+ TEST DRIVE MEME +

[vitaelamorte]

♦ Test Drive Meme ♦

♥ This meme is a chance for new players and/or new characters to try out their voices in Wonderland's setting, and mingle with entranceway's current player base. ♥ Get started with one of the prompts below, or reply to other people's top-level comments. Both prose and comment spam format is allowed and welcome. ♥ Creating top-level comments is reserved for new characters who are not currently in Wonderland, as well as for new Mirrors that haven't been played yet. ♥ Please note that any threads written for this meme are not part of entranceway's game canon. They do not count towards current players' AC requirements, and cannot be used as samples for any new applications. ♥ Have a look at our Navigation to find any information about Wonderland you might need, or head to the Input & Inquiries page for further question. If you've made up your mind about joining, go ahead and put in your Application, or a Reserve.

P r o m p t s

I. Welcome to Wonderland! Seconds ago you were surrounded by the things you know, but now you may find yourself standing on a strange beach. And you may find yourself in another part of another world. And you may find yourself within the shadow of a large mansion. And you may find yourself in a beautiful room, with a completely useless introductory brochure. And you may ask yourself: Well... how did I get here? II. Lose yourself to find yourself It's another day in Wonderland, and another event has come around. For its duration everyone has been turned into a stereotypical ghost. Disembodiment, translucency, and all it entails! Have fun moving through objects and walls, because actually touching a door (or interacting with any other physical objects for that matter)? Not going to happen. III. Mirror, Mirror, On The March Aren't you excited? Aren't you thrilled? The Queen of Hearts has chosen you amongst a mere handful, and sent you off to the other side. Whether you infiltrate quietly, or barge in boldly is entirely up to you. Her Majesty has faith in your skill, she knows you will retrieve her treasured Shield from that bothersome Red Queen and her hideous Reals. You will, won't you? You really mustn't disappoint your Queen, or else... OR ELSE. IV. Wildcard Play out your character's arrival. Celebrate their anniversary. Choose a different event to experience. Do anything and everything you like!

Comments

Ichabod Crane | Sleepy Hollow

[ughskinnyjeans]

[ At first all the video captures is a forehead. Eventually eyebrows come into view as well as his eyes. Finally the bridge of his nose and then it's all of Ichabod's face. Confused and perplexed at what seems to be the cause of all this.

For once it's not the technology that perplexes Ichabod, but the manner in which he was abducted. He has no recollection of being taken and yet--here he is. Intact and thoroughly peeved as to why someone would choose now to snatch him up. His immediate thought is Henry, but taking him right as he discovered the sword would serve no purpose. The sword was most likely with Abbie now. This doesn't appear to be the handiwork of his son or even Abraham. The man was far too crude and blunt to accomplish something like this. This took finesse and time. Magic.

He took shelter in the mansion before him and even scanned the literature left out for him. Wonderland. He's never heard of such a place. Perhaps it's some extension of Purgatory. That would make the most logical sense. Then again very little has made sense for Ichabod as of late. His whole world thrown off caliber.

The device is actually quite familiar. It resembles that of a smart phone. A device Abbie and countless others have taught him to use. It lacks the applications his previous one had. He will forever miss that weather app Abbie put in. He will not miss that mechanical voice that offered no soothing words. She would always be inferior to Yolanda in his eyes. She was much better at listening to one drown their sorrows. ]

Is this--ah yes. It seems to be working indeed. [ He clears his throat and holds his head up high. ] My name is Ichabod Crane. I have come to the conclusion that I no longer reside in Sleepy Hollow. It seems I've been spirited away elsewhere. Wonderland. [ What a silly name. ] I am looking for a woman. A very specific woman. You can address her as Leftenant Abigail Mills. Perhaps simply Abbie. She is--[ He holds up his hand next to him to indicate how tall she is. ]--ye tall. Dark hair. Dark skin. Quite possibly--actually more than likely incredibly irritated by the situation. If you happen to come across please attempt to reach me on my device. We're needed elsewhere and it is not here. Sincerely, Ichabod Crane.

[ He smiles one last time before his feed goes out. ]

n o t h i n g, that is what

[nascensibility]

[It's his first day in a Purgatory-like pocket universe, unless Evelyn is very much mistaken, but since he appears mostly unruffled she'll chalk it up to exceptional nerves of steel. At least he's fully-clothed - she first arrived in a dripping-wet négligée, left to wander the main foyer looking like a cross between the Bard's Ophelia and a drowned rat.]

I hate to be the harbinger of poor news, but you may be here for the foreseeable future.

[Despite her pragmatism her tone carries an apology; she knows perfectly well what it's like to be stuck for indeterminate amounts of time, and the transition isn't an easy one.

Wonderland's resident self-appointed librarian refrains from extending a hand for a shake, but she doesn't ignore English protocol entirely.]

I'm Evelyn O'Connell.

[goesdown]

It's so much better than that.

[Crowley eyes the man with a somewhat judging look, but that might just be Crowley's face. This man doesn't look like much to Crowley, but Wonderland had taught him to not underestimate anyone and, really, that had been something he'd kept in mind even before he came here. ]

On a scale of one to ten, how many drugs have you done?

[wordvomit]

[The information isn't necessarily intended to be reassuring, as Ned is a "glass half-empty and laced with cyanide" sort of person, but he has his moments. Now is not one of them. To the Pie Maker, being sociable is an exhausting chore fraught with verbal sinkholes into which he can step, conversational traps and the dreaded interpersonal obligations.

Shaking hands like a normal person is one of those obligations, but Ned does not do touching and it takes every ounce of his considerable self-control to reach out and accept her hand gingerly for a brief shake before his fingers return to his pockets.

Achievement: Unlocked]

I'm Ned.

[He does not recognize her name or her reputation, offering a fleeting (sheepish) smile.]

The, uh, Pie Maker.

[fratricidal_tendencies]

[Margot can't help but grin.] the Pie Maker. [She echoes bemusedly. How cute. He has a pseudonym of sorts.]

I imagine you must love to bake. Do you have a favorite?

[She used to once upon a time but now she hates the taste of chocolate. Another sweet thing Mason has made bitter.]

[ingrantitude]

[This is a loaded question. Is he in pain? Yes. He's bruised and he's not entirely sure about one of those gunshots to the side. It's gone through and he can feel the bullet moving around in there every time he breathes. It's a reminder of how badly he screwed up and it keeps him angry.

Good. If he's angry he can keep going. The more in pain he is the more he can keep his mind clear and figure out what to do next. He can think through pain -

(physical pain)

It keeps the bad things at bay.

Leaning against the wall he fixes a very, very steady gaze on her before shaking his head slowly]

I could use directions to a medical professional but no.

[He may be wearing dark blue clothing but some of it looks very black. Like he's bleeding. There are things that betray him, the smallest facial twitches, the way he's sort of leaning but honestly...]

I'm not in pain.

[He won't tell a single soul about that.]

:D

[coolwithit]

[He doesn't even need to see who it is because, like her, he knows Jo's voice when he hears it, and turns in her direction.]

Jo!

[Has he finally done it? Has attempting to cheat the system really worked and he's finally found where the youngest Harvelle's Heaven is? But Ash isn't going to question it too much, just yet, and grins in her direction. If this worked in any way, it was worth the potential cost (namely, getting lost in goddamn Heaven) in spades.]

You are a sight for sore eyes, lemme tell you.

[coolwithit]

[Ash has a certain amount of fucks to give, and he isn't sure that he's ready to give one to a judgy little dude in a suit who... well, he really doesn't fit this place, but maybe it's a really old memory. Before the suit.

But hey, if this is his Heaven, he can hang. At least until he can get his bearings and find something else to write with and get the hell out of here.]

Winners don't do drugs, my friend.

[There's a funny little curve of his lips, right at the corner, that says exactly how much he's joking. He doesn't tend to grin with his whole face.]

[hypocritically]

[She raises her brows at his outburst, saying 'watch your language' without needing to. She is still his mother after all, and while the surprise is valid, her reaction still comes with a reprieve.]

I haven't been here long-- [But she isn't entirely sure what he means. Esther knows what a Harvest Girl is. Some covens sacrifice a young girl to restore their power or at least to ensure it's continuation. But what that has to do with Esther is beyond her.]

Who do you mean? [She asks concerned, not just because it involves her and he seemingly knows something she doesn't, but he's very concerned about it.]

[malefice]

[ The unsaid scolding puts a bad taste in his mouth, but he doesn't say anything, instead he stays exactly where he is. Trying to take in that she was back in her own body... dead no doubt.

Even if she was dead, it didn't keep him from wanting his distance. A dead monster is still a monster after all. ]

This place wasn't your doing, then?

[ Way to answer his mother's question... But he's never been one for doing as he should. ]

Who knows you're here? Is Finn?

[avoirfaim]

It is, though you may find that it only gets harder to believe from there.

[ Leery of his counsel is good, it puts her ahead of the curve. Relief is better, it shows him what he already knows: that he's better than the brightest and most astute.]

[fratricidal_tendencies]

[ She does not believe him. Margot is sadly familiar with all injuries, large and small. And she knows about trying to hide them, so Mason can't gloat over how he's gotten under her skin, in more ways that one. ]

If you are injured, perhaps I can help you. I'm no professional, but I know a lot about wounds.

[ There is a darkness in her eyes, years of pain visible, etched across her features, for just a flash. ]

[fratricidal_tendencies]

[ That was not the answer she had hoped for. Still, she has never known him to lie to her, or, if he has, she hasn't caught him in it. But no one catches Hannibal until he wants to be caught. His presence does make her reconsider Mason's involvement. ]

And so this is not, as I had imagined, another of Mason's horrid tricks?

[ingrantitude]

[That was him once. He could tell. The moment he sees that pain and anguish he can tell and he stops to study her for a long moment. He felt that, he had that.

It's really refreshing having it finally beaten out of you and no longer care. Twitching, he nods mutely. No sense in bleeding to death.]

No doctors here? No medical professionals? Nothing that you saw or heard?

[fratricidal_tendencies]

[ She gives him an apologetic look. ]

Not that I have yet encountered, but I just woke up, admittedly. If you would prefer, I can look for someone. There should be a first aid kit somewhere at the very least.

[ofletters]

[ No, not dead... for once. Surprise!! ]

Damn, man, it's good to see you! [ BRO HUG, INCOMING... ! ] Are you-- I mean, did you come from...?

[ You know, that place? Where things are terrible? ]

[ingrantitude]

I'm bringing it up. [Ward's voice is tight.] Because I've been shot. I'm not doubting your capabilities.

[He studies her up and down with something like pity and slight calculation.]

Far from it as a matter of fact all the same...

[He swoons.] Fine. Lead the way. If we can find something I can probably talk you through it. You're sure we're not in Puerto Rico anymore?

[fratricidal_tendencies]

[ Well, Mason never thought to shoot her. She should be grateful for small mercies. And in the Verger household, small mercies were the only kind of mercy. She reaches out, somewhat reluctantly, because Margot isn't very big on touching, to wrap an arm around him. ]

I'm positive this is not Puerto Rico. I'm not convinced you should be walking though.

[ingrantitude]

I'm fine. [He breathes] I can handle pain. [physical pain.]

If you can get me to a first aid kit I can walk you through helping me. If you're so inclined still.

[There's a frown. He wants to say something else. Introduce himself but there's blood leaking from his clothing and there's the lack of trust and...

Stepping, there's a hiss of pain.]

Wanna hear a joke?

[fratricidal_tendencies]

[She is concerned, but trying not to let it show. ]

I would love to hear a joke, sure.

I'm not terribly familiar with gunshot wounds, but I do know about puncture wounds. I may not need your help. Is the bullet still inside the wound, if you know?

[ingrantitude]

Yes.

[He grits his teeth. Why does a lady who looks relatively well-to-do know about puncture wounds.

Does he want to know. Probably not. So he will talk. Doing the bad Italian accent and everything.]

An old Italian Mafia Don is dying and he called his grandson to his bed Grandson I wanta you to listen to me. I wanta you to take mya 45 automatic pistol, so you will always remember me. [he grunts. There's an open door and he pulls at her - trying to get her to move in that direction.] But grandpa I really don't like guns, how about you leaving me your Rolex watch instead.

You lisina to me, some day you goin a be runna da bussiness, you goina have a beautiful wife, lotsa money, a biga home and maybe a couple od bambino, some day you goina come hom and maybe finda you wife in be with another man. Whata you gonna do then? Pointa to you watch and say, "TIMES UP"?

[he nearly falls at that but he still manages a smile. The room itself is simple. Bed, blankets, pillow, closet, and a mirror.]

...Oh look.

I could die there that'd be nice.

[ingrantitude]

[Ward was patched up by a certain familiar individual and decided that exploration was the best idea in these circumstances. Magic closets are one thing entirely, but knowing the lay of the land is another. He has no idea where he is or with who or how.

What he does know is the closet refused to give him a gun. Instead he got a toy gun and in frustration broke the furniture in his room to give himself a makeshift stake.

Doesn't really work so well, but if you drive the splintery end into someone's eye...

Not that he's looking for anyone to do that with. Except for the guy staring at the mirror.]

Don't stare too long you'll ruin your eyes.

[ingrantitude]

[Ichabod Crane.

Ichabod Crane the guy's name is Ichabod Crane.

Ward can't let this pass up it's got to be a joke of the highest caliber so he makes sure to triple lock his post and respond with a cheeky grin.] howdy Ichabod I'm Rip Van Winkle. Wish I could help.

Haven't quite seen your friend Abbie though. You just arrive?

[fratricidal_tendencies]

[She grins at him, a sudden flash of mirth briefly lighting her gaze.]

I hadn't heard that one, but we aren't big on jokes in my family. Not funny ones anyway.

[ she helps him to the bed, and stands by to catch him if he should fall as he settles onto it. ]

You're not going to let something that small kill you, are you? No more talk of dying!

[ingrantitude]

[He stumbles and leans against her.] ...Of course not. I'm a survivor.

[He only dreams of death. The light catches on his wrist as he tries to settle himself to reveal a faint faded scar. Straight down.]

Yeah? Mine were all about liberals. Or democrats. How many democrats does it take to balance the budget? 0 - they're stubborn like donkeys and can never agree on anything.

[What he does do is pull off his shirt revealing a large splotch of bruising and what's a clear gunshot wound. Blood drips onto the bed and he flops back onto it, bleeding.]