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+ TEST DRIVE MEME +

♦ 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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He's a stranger to her, which she didn't entirely expect. She wondered where Mason was hiding and watching, as he surely was. She offers a small, polite smile and holds out her hand. ]

Well. It's nice to not be alone, I think. My name is Margot Verger.

[Ward is torn. Offer a fake name, offer an alias, or just not say anything? He keeps a hand pressed over his side and just stares for a brief moment before shaking it away.]

It's nice to know I'm not in Kansas anymore. [He frowns.] This isn't Puerto Rico is it.

[ She can't help but smile a bit.]

I don't think it's warm enough for Puerto Rico.

[ She tilts her head at his gesture. ]

Are you in pain?

[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.]

[ 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. ]

[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?

[ 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.

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?

[ 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.

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?

[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?

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.

[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!

[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.]

[ she doesn't miss the scar, but she doesnt comment on it. Her attention is elsewhere. Namely on that wound. Despite her earlier protests, she proves herself capable, quickly washing up at a nearby sink. Then she turns her attention to his injuries, cleaning and bandaging his wound with the sort of clinical detachment one would expect from a medical professional. But she is no such thing. Merely frequently wounded herself. ]

Your folks sound charming, really. Now, how do you feel?

Fine. [He inhales.] I can take pain. If I need painkiller...

[That's all it is. She's not staring at least. He's decided that celibacy is what he'll be doing for the rest of his life so far.] You do this well. You sure you're not a nurse?

[ She keeps busy, cleaning up the mess calmly. There may be th occasional faint hand tremor but other than that she is rock solid.]

I told you, no medical training as such. Just....experience. Girls with rich fathers don't need careers. Not even to save their worthless lives.

[Grant freezes at that. Girls with rich fathers don't need careers.

He is seven years old at his mother's birthday party. Dressed in his best, dressed immaculate he plays politely with the other children before he is summoned by his mother. She's drunk, sitting at her make up table. She's been drunk a lot ever since Christian left. Swirling her wine she crooked one finger to him.

Her touches were never good. Never gentle.

"Grant. You love your mommy don't you." Smoothing his cheeks, fixing his hair, "You love her so much. don't you. Don't you."

"Yes mother."

"That's my good boy. Not as handsome as your brother but it'll do. Well mommy wants to tell you a secret baby boy. One day, you're going to grow up and be a very successful senator, or a congressman, or even a governor. You might make it all the way to the top." she tapped his nose with one long nail, "and when you come home after screwing expensive hookers in your car you'll have your wife too and she'll be one of those girls out there - pretty, blonde, brunnette or redheads. You'll have her like a cheap - whore because that's all she's good for!"

The slap came down hard on his face, "Say it. Say they're cheap whores."

"Moth-"

"Say it!"

"Mommy please."

"Say it."

He stumbled over the words, "Th-They're cheap wh-whores." he didn't understand entirely, he wanted his brother, his father, anyone, "Mother please-mommy-"

"Mommy please Get out. Go back to your hookers." she was weeping he saw. Tears cutting rivers over her cheeks.

In the present Ward's stare is suddenly intense, predatory.]

You don't really believe that do you?

[ She lifts her chin a bit. Margot does not back down, even when it's smarter to. Though of course she has no idea of the terrible direction of his thoughts. ]

What does it matter if I believe it or not? Papa believed it, and now that he is gone, Mason believes it too. I have nothing without him, and that is how he wants it. There is no escape for me.

[He straightens, moving to sit up and stare at her. He tries to move off the bed, to move away from her - except that he can't.

So he'll roll his eyes.]

There is always a way out. It's all about playing the angles. [No one should be that depressed. No one should think that way. He grimaces as he shifts.]

Did they abuse you?

[ She frowns as she considers his question. ]

I never lacked for the obvious things, food and clothing and schooling. But as a girl, I would never measure up to the standard of perfection Papa believed in. My brother and I are twins, and I always felt like an accessory to Mason. Lesser in every way. Mason has...a cruel streak that Papa encouraged. I do not know if anyone noticed what he did to me, but I do know no one would have lifted a hand to stop him. I tried to kill him once, and failed. Dr. Lecter, my psychiatrist, told me it was because I still love him. How messed up is that? I paid for my failure. I paid in ways I could not have foreseen.

[Mason has a cruel streak that Papa encouraged.

"Christian! Grant! Come wash up for dinner!"

"Chris hit me! He hit me really hard!" blood streams down his nose, over his cheeks. His brother was his friend, his ally, his confidant. His father stared at him for a moment then frowned in Christian Ward's direction walking casually across the grass, "Chris did you mean to do this?"

"He was being a baby dad."

"Were you Grant?"

"I am a baby!"

"No." His father took him by the shoulders, "Thomas is much smaller then you are. You have to fight your battles little man. The next time your brother hits you you hit back."

"What about my nose?"

"Go get a tissue."

It was the indifference that hurt the most. Indifference that was not applied when he'd kicked his brother in the groin as hard as he could the next day before debating, brick or fists? brick or fists? If you want to survive you've got to hit back

In the end he'd opted for fists and been spanked within an inch of his whole damn life. Ever since the staff. Ever since the staff it all came crawling back and even after his catharsis-

"For godsake Grant I'm sorry, I'm sorry this is not the way to do this

He's annoyed suddenly. Annoyed with this woman who presumes to somehow remind him of his past but he can't damn well move or run or hit her. Well he could but what would she do? Shrink up in the corner just like I did.

His expression softens.]

You realize you probably didn't fail because you still loved him right? You're stupid if you think that's true. You probably failed because you didn't know how.

[She openly admitted she had no experience with real world things, even though his bandage is tight. It'll need stitches but all the same.]

Or you got caught.

[He could be talking about a meal. About where they are. But then his expression darkens.]

It takes a few tries.

[There's a deep breath before he's back on his back.] What'd you try and do to him if you don't mind my asking?

Edited 2015-02-04 17:22 (UTC)

[ ~~I am just making this up because the show never explicitly tells us. Dammit.~~ It's not an easy subject. She dislikes thinking about what has happened to her, and she doesn't like being called stupid. She isn't. She is just not as cruel as she needs to be. ]

I tried to stab him with his own knife. He snapped my arm like a twig.

[ Her tone is matter of fact. She could be talking about the weather. ]

I think you're wrong. In some way, I do still love him. He is all I have. And I am all he has.

[I tried to stab him with his own knife. And there are ways defending against that.

Glancing over he suppresses the idea and the very vivid memory that he still loved Christian. That watching him beg for his life hadn't hurt, that watching his parents weep hadn't ripped something out of him. That in the privacy of the forest he hadn't given himself over to helpless racking sobs...

Or wanted to. Instead he had just stared in the fire and dreamed of screaming. Of killing them all.]

There's a way of defending against that.

[He falls flat on his back, arm straight out and grips his wrist.] You'd have to be lifting weights but you press here and here - [He demonstrates on his own wrist.] It interrupts the nerve signals to the hand and he should drop whatever he's holding.

[Siblings. Family.] It's not love if the person hurts you.

[Never turn your back on the enemy, you taught me that.

His expression is unreadable and he silences himself with a sad sigh.]

[ She notes his movements, but she can't quite see herself replicating them. ]

I never said my brother didn't have problems. He hurts me. He wants to control everything about me.

[ She had thought lying across the eel aquarium with the bitter taste of defeat in her mouth was the worst she would ever feel. But after the accident, being so helpless, so painfully aware that she could do nothing to save herself or her baby...no, that was far worse. ]

Do you want to hear a story?

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