possiblymad: (Charisma)
[personal profile] possiblymad
[Look at that, he's on the network and not under the influence of an event. That's a rare sight to behold. He's no longer hiding and he has an inquiry on his mind.]

Greetings fellow unwilling... and perhaps willing inhabitants. Allow me to pose a question to any and all willing to answer. But first, I must clarify something. The definition of a lie is an intentionally deceptive statement. The intention to mislead or deceive. A falsification or a fabrication. Put simply, something untrue.

Now, many of you are aware of who I am and of what I am capable. Others may know just my name and the implication it provides. Fewer still actually recognise my face or the sound of my voice. [Yes, he's talking to you, dear. Fandral, honestly. Lovely, intelligent, but so gullible.] For those of you with that knowledge, fear not. This is in no way malicious. I have no hidden motive or deceitful purpose save for the slaying of my unyielding boredom. Truth? ...or a lie? [He smiles somewhat knowingly, but doesn't provide an answer.]

What I wish to ask is, for those of you with such self-righteous morals, is there any here that can claim not to be guilty of a lie? The answer to that is a simple 'no'. Lies take many forms, be they malevolent or innocent. Withholding the truth or altering it, both qualify. Omission of truth or using the truth to paint a different picture are both still considered deceitful.

Lies are not only used for ones own benefit. They can be used to protect others. Tell me, would you lie to save a life? To save the lives of many? I'm curious just what would be the breaking point?

[He raises an eyebrow, inviting an answer just before he ends the feed.]
airshipswank: (don't get up on my account)
[personal profile] airshipswank

[ Not all actions observable in Wonderland are of greater significance or entertainment value. Sometimes, such as is the case this morning at the greenhouse, one will simply observe a man with gloved hands uprooting a specimen or two from a bed of plants, before meticulously wrapping them in layers of cloth to carry away. Ah, gardening! What a delightful pastime! ]


[ Buckingham's wardrobe is no deviation from his usual design, indeed today it plays a small part only, as it is the sword in his hand which deserves special attention. Drawn and held in front of him for display he addresses the network with his intentions: ]

I never thought to ask before, but he-- [ The duke nods to a well-worn wooden dummy at the back of an otherwise empty room. ] --has rather exhausted his use for the day, yet I still... have a mind to spar.

[ He lifts his sword for show, before sheathing it swiftly, and addressing the camera with a wide smile. ]

A mobile opponent, I've not had that pleasure for too long. Perhaps someone would... care to join me? Eighty-five, on the tenth floor, to whomever it would suit today.
not_apriest: (aramis at home)
[personal profile] not_apriest
[Aramis is in the garden with coffee and a book.]

I've been reading through what will be France's history in most of your times. Did anyone here experience either of what they refer to as the 'World Wars'? The notion of a violent global conflict is...

strangeboy: (go away)
[personal profile] strangeboy
[D'Artagnan's been in this place for three days. Three whole utterly confusing days, most of which were spent navigating his way through the stairwells and hallways, trying to get a feel for the layout. He's been outside, walked the perimeter of the place (excepting the forest, of course), and peered out over the lake, though hadn't taken a chance on going in. He's never been much of a swimmer, really. He's investigated the library, eyes scanning over unfamiliar and unintelligible titles, trying to figure out anything he could.

He'd happened upon a packet in what he assumes is the foyer. It held the answers to all of his basic questions: where am I, how did I get here, how do I get home, etc. While those answers may have been discouraging to most, D'Artagnan just happens to come from a fortunate time in his life-- still entirely too confident in his own abilities, considering he's just saved the whole of France with his three best friends.

In any case, the only thing he hasn't done is figure out how to properly use his communication device. In fact, he doesn't even really know what it's for, just that it's a little black square that sometimes makes noises at him and shows him the faces of other people, who he assumes live in this place with him. He hasn't spoken to a single one, too busy with investigating all that he can.

D'Artagnan walks down a corridor on the first floor, passing through a doorway and smiling widely at the sight behind it. He's found the kitchen, it seems, finally, and Christ, is he hungry. He's still a growing boy, after all.

He raids the cabinets-- pleased to find them well-stocked with everything he loves-- and sets himself down at the table in the corner, his communicator falling to the floor with a slight crack!

He leans over, frowning at it, unaware that it's started broadcasting.

Huh. At least it's not broken.
avoirfaim: [ stomach growling ] (blood pudding ingredients everywhere)
[personal profile] avoirfaim
[ Now he wouldn't make a network post so soon after his last, but the pieces fell together quite perfectly, as if the powers that be had rewarded him for acting on his most base desire to humiliate another. Not Buckingham, no, but it seemed well timed. It isn't right after he finds Buckingham's dead body that he makes the network post. He has other, more important things to do. He puts on a calm but perturbed face with a firm frown, and starts the video. He's in the dining room, at the table, the body can't be seen. For a moment he sits with a first lightly against his mouth in concern, not speaking. ]

I would prefer not to make this public, but as I do not know who Lord Buckingham considers a friend...I regret to inform you all that he has been murdered. I--

[ He pauses, licking his bottom lip in a display of discomfort and looking elsewhere from the camera. Then back to it. ]

As a medical professional I'm not unfamiliar with corpses, but I would rather not stay here any longer than I have to. The body is in the dining room, I suggest someone who knows him come and at least make him decently presentable.

[ And, well, that's the end of that. ]
psalmed: (notanna)
[personal profile] psalmed
[Are you bored of seeing floofy dresses yet? Because at first the feed is of nothing but a mountain of skirts. Finally it's adjusted to Lia, and a teacup, and it's clear there's been some thought in presentation. Her hair is styled, the dress is the height of fashion (of two hundred and something years ago) to the point of impracticality.]

So many people are posing such fascinating questions. I would ask one of my own. Would you want to know your future? If you could peer into the next years of your life, and the lives of those you love, would you wish to see what time will bring, even if you could not change it?

And then, if you knew...would you accept it as the will of God? Of fate?

[There's a sadness there, lingering behind the polite and pretty face. Fingers are tangled in the beads of a rosary around her neck as she considers her next words, and at last she smiles and ducks her head.]

I still find myself lacking for a partner in sword practices. I would very much like to encourage anyone who wishes to learn or only wishes to stay active to get into contact with me. I would be happy to teach a beginner to defend their self and virtue, as I would be happy for someone to perhaps teach me new endeavors.

That failing, I fear I shall have to invite a few of you for tea.

[Quite the threat, there, and at least some mischievous spark has returned to her face as she shuts off the feed.]


Apr. 29th, 2014 10:44 pm
scorchedlily: (stricken)
[personal profile] scorchedlily
[She'd expected to hit the water, so when she does, it's no surprise. Instinct has her holding her breath and fighting to reach the surface even as the heavy weight of her gown drags her inexorably downwards. It takes only about twenty seconds of rapid descent through oddly pretty depths, her speed aided by the sheer height from which she'd fallen, for Milady to realise that if she wants to live, the gown needs to go.

Struggling with her skirts, she reaches through a hidden slit in the voluminous fabric to pull a dagger from the sheath on her thigh and reaches up to slice away her heavily embroidered stomacher. Despite not being able to breathe underwater, removing the hard panel gives her some small confidence (and a little less weight), and her next move is to cut the ribbons connecting her sleeves to her bodice. A desperate shake of her arms has the material floating away, leaving her only with the heavy swathes of fabric entangling her legs and dragging her unrelentingly downwards. Feeling the tightness in her lungs that signals the need for air - soon - Milady begins the frantic slashing of her waistband - and it takes almost too long. Fighting desperately to keep her mouth shut to prevent the instinctive intake of air that simply isn't there, she continues to hack at the uncooperative jacquard until she can wriggle out of it (internally cursing the stupidity of a bum roll). Judicious kicking frees her of the weighty mass which continues to sink, and she immediately strikes for the surface--

--and inhales a huge lungful of water.

Through her panic is irritation that she's going to bloody drown, of all things, and she kicks desperately

to save


Blue eyes open blearily, wet sand gritty and harsh under her cheek. Her dagger is gone, lost to the ocean, but she can see a sleeve that somehow made it onto the beach, bedraggled and limp, mocking her.

Moving is too hard.

Something much closer in her field of vision draws her focus, and while she has to blink several times for the small box thing tied to her wrist to be clearly visible, when it does happen, she's hit with a strange sense of deja vu.

Lifting her hand with some effort, she slaps at what she's sure is the button to make the thing work.]

…not again.

[En français, and in raspy, harsh tones, but undeniably her voice, for those who'd know it.]
sorryitasedyou: (Default)
[personal profile] sorryitasedyou
[She's been in Wonderland for a little while, figuring out how to work the closet and laying low while everyone seemed to sing and pour their hearts and superiority out through song... It was wonky.

She takes her sweet time looking around the massively huge library, hesitant to even reach out to the network because there are just so many awesome things screaming at her for attention. BUT she needs to know if anyone else is here, especially Jane. She clears her throat before starting the feed.]

What’s up wonderful and talented Wonderland!

First of all – wow. Was not expecting people to be bursting out in to song... not that I knew what to expect. Anyhoo, kick-ass library… really. Kinda weirded out about the whole Wonderland thing since I don’t remember chasing a fluffy rabbit in a vest but I can roll with it for now.

Jane, if you and Thor ended up here instead of Asgard, please let me know because this is all sorts of messed up. Also, ditching me and leaving me standing in the rain to deal with the cops – so not cool.

For anyone else, my name’s Darcy and I like long walks on the beach, top shelf tequila and whiskey, listening to music, lounging by roaring fire, helping an Asgardian god and his buddies try and stop his psycho brother from leveling a town in New Mexico, and video games. Oh! Also books – I loooove a good book.

[She manages to keep a straight face through the last part, before finally losing it. She should probably take this more seriously, but with the singing and everything - it's really hard to maintain any sort of composure.

She takes a breath, running a hand through her hair.]

Ok, but really - I have questions. Any helpful information is appreciated like why I've been kidnapped and brought here... that'd be nice to know. Also if any of the Avengers are here, you probs don't know me but I know you in that 'I promise I'm not a creepy fangirl stalker' way - had to keep an eye on the big guy... So... yeah - please just let me know.

Toodles kids!

[end of feed.]
thestormcomes: (bitch u cray)
[personal profile] thestormcomes
[Unbeknownst to Athos, all Hell has broken loose in most other parts of the Mansion. He stays inside, he doesn't get out often enough to notice any particular changes - and if he did, he wouldn't concern himself overly upon finding a dead body. The occasional corpse in the gutter of the Parisian ghetto is absolutely unsurprising: people pick fights and lose, drunken men fall into the Seine, the Cardinal's guards cut through a swath of rioters like a hot knife through butter.

Athos' real concern is the fact that one of his party is missing.

Now, D'Artagnan had gone missing several days ago, but it isn't at all out of the ordinary for the boy to stay over with a lady friend or spend the night elsewhere. The eldest musketeer's fear rests in the fact that he entered D'Artagnan's room only to find it completely barren.

The next day, the dog that D'Artagnan had been caring for found its way into his chambers, licking him awake. It should be noted that Athos suffers from a fear of large hounds these days (no fault of his own, you see), and doesn't much like that he's resorting to the public to appeal for assistance.

Has anyone seen D'Artagnan of late? Young man - not yet twenty, brown hair? Petulantly irritating at times?

[A dog barks in the back of the feed and he physically cringes, thumbing the hilt of his sword.]

...and if anyone would care to take this beast off my hands, I would be much obliged.
psalmed: (unimpressed)
[personal profile] psalmed
[The feed opens to the lower half of a very confused face. A collarbone, decorated with the beads of a rosary around her neck, is what is mostly in focus. It takes a few moments for the view to shift from chest to the rest of a woman's puzzled face, which soon has a very cordial smile on it.]

To anyone who might me listening, I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. My name is Lia de Beaumont and I am a Knight of France and a Lady to Her Majesty. It seems I have wandered from my path and I do not know which way I might again find civilization. This place is so very like Versailles and yet...it is not, is it?

[Her voice is soft, questioning, and she lowers her head and shuts her eyes for a moment. Unfortunately a moment is all it takes as a wave crashes in and takes her out at the knees. It wouldn't have done much, but as the feed soon reveals after it is done flying through the air and landing on the sand, Lia is wearing an impractically giant dress. The wet fabric clings to her legs and she drops, easily dragged into the water with a slight yell. It's a matter of a full minute before she claws her way out of the surf, breathing hard.]

The help would be...most appreciated.

[And then the feed ends, because what is a lady without thanking someone after putting on such a display? If anyone is to come across her, she will be sitting on the beach in a chair, wringing water out of her skirts and trying to get the sand off.]
not_apriest: (aramis en garde)
[personal profile] not_apriest
D'Artagnan, I've been asked to conduct some more...formal fencing classes. I was wondering if you might have time to assist with some of them, to help demonstrate techniques.


Jan. 19th, 2014 06:21 pm
onsilksheets: (now listen closely)
[personal profile] onsilksheets
[Bela is nowhere to be seen when the video clicks on but her voice is clearly audible in the background, sounding like a echo. Someone isn't happy.]

...Bloody ridiculous..stupid Wonderland...

[The language being used becomes more colourful as the feed continues. A moment passes and this comes into view. If armour could have an expression, Bela's would be furious right about now.]

I appreciate vintage but having armour for a body is taking it a bit too far. I don't think I can stand another day being unable to feel anything. Or eat.

[She just needed to rant a little. Oh, but wait...]

Has anyone figured out what the televisions have got to do with this? It doesn't seem to fit with what's been going on.
not_apriest: (aramis distracted)
[personal profile] not_apriest
Athos? D'Artagnan? Are you, um... [His voice sounds hollow and tinny, even to his own...can he still call them 'ears'?] Where are you?
usskickass: (That so?)
[personal profile] usskickass
Uh, so, hey. Howdy. [Beiste gives a little wave, clears her throat.] I know we've been getting lots of new folks and it's been a while since I talked about this all public-like, so. I teach self-defense on Wednesdays. Mostly what they'd teach you in one of the ones for ladies, along with judo throws and just basic workout stuff. Some events separate us, so each of us learning how to defend ourselves somehow is better than leavin' it up to only some of us, I figure.

Basically, I'm putting this up here to recruit other teachers for things, if any of you know anything about defense. I'd prefer stuff that ain't lethal, since there's always the chance that we'll be fighting one another. Just something that knocks them down or out and lets you run away.

And as far as people taking lessons or just coming to train, y'all are welcome. Anybody, any skill level. Me and any other teachers that volunteer will figure out something you can do to keep yourself and others safe.

Just lemme know if any of you are interested, 'kay?
thestormcomes: (avertissement)
[personal profile] thestormcomes
[The Mansion has really outdone itself this year with the decor.

Boughs of holly, garlands strung over banisters and swags of pine in the halls. The kitchen smells like cinnamon and nutmeg, wreaths deck every door, and little sprigs of mistletoe hang from just about every public doorway (he strenuously avoids those, by the by). It actually feels like Yule -- there's even a massive log in the fireplaces, burning strong to keep the cold at bay.

Of course, all this probably means that something abso-fucking-lutely horrible is going to happen - because in his experience, that's how things go down around here - but Athos isn't tremendously opposed to enjoying things while he can.

In fact, you can find him peeling oranges in the kitchen with a small mountain of spices next to a pot full of dark, red liquid. Quietly singing something that modern audiences might think sounds suspiciously like The First Noël (albeit in French, sorry) under his breath, he throws a handful of cloves into his mysterious concoction and sets the stove to flame.

Spoiler alert: it's mulled wine. No one should be surprised.

He probably won't notice if anyone creeps up in his business. Probably.

NOTE -- Any mistletoe shenanigans that I planned with people might as well go in here, if people are amenable to that idea! :)
chloroformedthejanitor: (I'm just not sure)
[personal profile] chloroformedthejanitor
[Annie appears onscreen, looking anything but her chipper self. Seems that's more and more common, these days, especially after things like disgusting zombies. She'd kept her own and managed to make it to the farmhouse on the second day, and stayed there for the remainder of the event, helping people who managed to get there as well. It wasn't until the event was over that she realized that they were well into fall, and that Christmas must be coming up soon, and if Christmas is coming, that means Hanukkah's here, or...that it already passed.

And, okay, yeah, she doesn't have like, the best relationship with her parents anymore, but it's still a special holiday for her! And she could've had a sweet little ceremony each night and lit the candles and made matzoh ball soup in the kitchen and shared it!! But no, instead she was killing zombies and hiding in a farmhouse. Seriously.

So, she can be found in the diner, her crafting supplies spread out in front of her in a booth in the back. Currently, she's pouring glitter over a set of folded up pieces of paper-- Christmas cards. She missed one holiday, she's not going to miss another.
evilhandissues: (bitch please)
[personal profile] evilhandissues
[Lindsey is disgruntled by his brush with the undead to say the least. Which is why he's sitting in his room today with something on his lap. It's a beautiful, absolutely beautiful acoustic guitar.

He even seems more human. Less lost.]

...Okay so those are the events that y'all were talking about. I get it.

That being said, I really don't want to be caught with um' around my ankles so to speak the next time something like that happens. That said, I'd like to learn how to fight.

[inhale. exhale. He holds up the guitar gently] I'll trade music lessons for it.

I'm not much of a teacher but I can try.

[he holds up a hand] to prove my point.

[To prove his point he starts to play. It lasts for four minutes before he finishes with a flourish and smiles tightly.]

Trade that for being able to defend myself in any capacity.

can't get any better then that right?


Nov. 17th, 2013 08:07 pm
alighthouse: (eager)
[personal profile] alighthouse
[The video turns on to show an excited Elizabeth.]

I finally got it to work! It’s a lot harder than people make it look, but I--oh.. oh.. no not like that.. please stop!

[The phone is dropped and from the ground you see a yellow kite whirling around in the air. Elizabeth tugs on the string, but the kite goes zooming through the air and plants itself on top of a tree.]

Oh no!

[The phone is scooped up and she runs off.]

[ooc: You can either network tag or action tag and find Elizabeth trying to figure out how to climb a very tall tree.]
not_apriest: (aramis thinks down)
[personal profile] not_apriest

I don't blame you if you don't want to hear it, but I would still like to offer you my most profuse apologies for my mirror's behaviour. What happened was inexcusable, and I'm sorry that I found myself unable to stop it. I would also like to offer my deepest apologies for anything I may have said or done to lend creedence to his actions.

I have greatly valued your friendship in my time here, but I will understand if you no longer wish to extend it. I don't know how to begin to make amends for what happened. I'm not sure amends can be made for such a violation of trust and person.

Please take care of yourself.

Yours sincerely,


[She can write back or call him or change to action or ignore it.]
not_apriest: (aramis grave)
[personal profile] not_apriest
[Aramis spent most of the first day free of his mirror locked in his own room, alternately pacing and praying. His mirror had spent a good portion of his time in control offending people, but one far more gravely than any of the rest and he didn't know how to even begin to make restitution. Finally he unlocked his door and ventured out into the apartment. When he came to Athos' door, he reached out to knock, then withdrew his hand, then reached out again and, this time, firmly knocked.]
thestormcomes: (well it just so happens)
[personal profile] thestormcomes
[Athos was there when it first happened, the sudden explosion of glass as mirrors shattered and tree roots poured out. He fared well for the first day or so (he can't remember how long it took him to cut through the swath of flora); it always pays to have a sword at your side. Understandably, moving plants were not his forte -- people are predictable, much like an animal is predictable when one is indulging in a hunt, and people he can fend off with relative ease.

Plants, however, appear to be an entirely different matter. After all, the boxwoods at Versailles are not known to attack passers-by.

That was, of course, when a vine whipped around one leg and another series of thoughts - another mind entirely - invaded his own and suddenly everything was flowery prose, it was- it was moonlit nights and a strange devotion for the self, a near-maddening torrent of pride and vanity.

It was a voice in his head that sounded exactly like his own, who in the moment spoke and said:

...I say, rather dismal in here, isn't it? No flowers, no...not even a rose? Ah, but I see there was one, once!
Perhaps I should write a poem about it -- The Ballad of Lost Love? No? How about a limerick instead?

Ahem. There once was a man named Athos-

Coping with the voice was no easy feat. A whole evening's sleep wasted on composing sonnets, Athos would only occasionally relinquish control to allow himself better peace of mind since his mirror (as it introduced itself) seemed decent, if frivolous.

And the voice isn't so bad when it isn't embarrassing him horribly.

[[ NOTE: Athos will be wandering the mansion attempting to help people -- his mirror will do much the same (with lesser success). Please specify in the subject bar which Athos you would like to start your interaction with!

Warning: MirrorAthos is like a High Renaissance Gilderoy Lockhart. Converse with to your own detriment at your own risk.]]
bottlearum: (What lies in store?)
[personal profile] bottlearum
[ It's not long after the event ends that Jack starts up the feed. Behind him you can see, in a shocking turn of events, that his room is based off the Capatin's cabin of the Black Plearl.

Except, it's a complete mess. Chairs have been knocked over, the table is knocked over, papers are everywhere, books and jewelry and empty bottles and blankets are strewn across the floor, his sword sticking out of the wall. His room is completely ransacked, like someone had thrown a giant, all-encompassing temper tantrum.

And in the middle of it all, sitting crisscross applesauce, is Jack Sparrow, pleasant little smile on his face.

Once he's made certain the feed is on and running, Jack waves a hand and starts speaking. Nothing strange here.

Right. I've been here long enough to know how these things work. These "events", as they are, are based offa one of us. Our memories, our world, [ He waves his hand in an etc., ect., motion. ] ...so on and so forth.

[ Jack picks at one of his fingernails, the perfect picture of nonchalance. ]

So. Who's event would that last one be, eh?
airshipswank: (I answer for my will to no man)
[personal profile] airshipswank
{ See, I'm back again... } )

{ III. VIDEO } [ And so his last act for the day, once he has changed into something more suitable, is to casually show himself on the network, as though he never left for even a day! ]

We have... artists here, I imagine? Painters, at least one of them, I should hope. I'll have a small task for them, should they be interested in ways to pass their time, or... earn a reward.

[[OOC: Whoops, that took me a bit longer than I imagined, but Buckingham is finally back. Anybody who wants to interact with him can either run into his action thingies in I and II, or answer his transmission in III.]]
watchthedetective: (computerized)
[personal profile] watchthedetective
I know this place is hard to deal with at the best of times, and the past couple of events seem to have been especially bad. If anyone is interested in getting together in a group setting to discuss the things that have happened to them here and share knowledge, coping skills, and emotional support, please respond.

Private to Sherlock Holmes )

005; video

Jun. 20th, 2013 04:16 am
oncefairytale: (Default)
[personal profile] oncefairytale
[The feeds opens up on Amy sitting in the gardens, sunflowers filling the spaces around her. She's plucking the petals off a few of them and they form a carpet around her. Despite the fact that she turned the video to record, she's trying to get her thoughts in order first. It's obvious that whatever she wants to say has been on her mind for a while. After a moment, she looks up at the feed. When she speaks, her words come quickly.]

Is it true that when we go back, we don't remember Wonderland? It's as if we never left? If so, then what's the point of all of this? Why torture us with shadows and monsters and the like?

[She presses her lips together.]

What if I don't want to forget any of this? [And then softly.] Or any of you?

[Despite it being a question she knows the answer to, she's still upset about it. For the first time in a long while she has true connections to people. Having her shadow constantly in her ear telling her that everyone is going to leave her and she was going to be alone again made for a very trying weekend.

She offers a weak smile to the camera once she's finished.]

It's funny. When I first got here, I couldn't wait to go back home and get back to my adventures. And while I still want to see what the universe has to offer...[She trails off and looks down at her lap.] I wish I could take all my friends with me.

[And that's a new feeling for Amy Pond. It used to be that all she needed was the Doctor to make her life complete. And while she stills feels that there's a hole inside of her that's missing something vital, she isn't ready to say goodbye to anyone. Especially since she noticed that people do occasionally disappear. Sometimes they return and sometimes...She clicks the feed off.]

[ooc: got a little busy and don't want to be swamped with backtags. but if anyone wants to handwave a shadow encounter, here is a little summary of what Amy's been up to.]


Jun. 9th, 2013 01:53 pm
supertemp: (:|a)
[personal profile] supertemp
[Donna's reclining on her bed, a fluffy calico kitten snoozing next to her. She looks bored, and that's never a good sign.]

So, what's everybody been up to 'round here lately? Besides events and whatnot, that is. Anything interesting? [She arches an eyebrow at the camera, smirking deviously.] Any decent gossip?


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