+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

[vitaelamorte]

Has this ever happened to you? You are a young and dynamic roleplayer full of inspiration and zest, and you have just the fictional character to enrich dreamwidth's roleplaying world, AND YET... you doubt.

Is that magnificent voice in your head shakier than you would like it to be? Are you bringing out an old favourite and need to be sure they haven't gone rusty from disuse? Do you need an opportunity to perfect your character's Mirror before sending them out to tag? Or do you simply want to take a look at Wonderland's atmosphere, and get to know some of entranceway's characters and players?

THEN WE HAVE JUST THE THING FOR YOU!

If the fears and doubts expressed towards this piece of fruit



accurately represent your feelings in regards to playing one or more characters in this game, then you have come to the right place! We proudly present the latest edition of the radiant, delicious and vitamin-packed

♥ ENTRANCEWAY ♥
TEST DRIVE MEME

► Try out any new characters and new Mirrors here! Have a go at the setting, thread with its current players, and see if Wonderland is a good fit for you and/or your character. Post a top level comment, tag into other people's starters, enjoy yourself!

► Thread your character's arrival, set a scene with them as long-established inhabitant, or let one of our past events inspire you. Any starter is fine, and both prose and comment spam are welcome!

► Please only note that threads on the test drive meme ARE NOT GAME CANON. They can't be used as part of the activity check OR as samples for any future applications. Thank you for understanding!

► Intrigued? Check out our...

NAVIGATION | INPUT & INQUIRIES | TAKEN CHARACTERS | WANTED CHARACTERS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS

AND THAT IS ALL, throw yourselves into the fray, test your drives, and seize the grapefruit! ♥

Comments

[fissure]

Upon inspection, Prior struggles against the twitching of his nose, the back of his hand swiping away the urge. American. It's not as dirty a word to him as it would be for some, but it still inspires a twinge of irritation. It's funny enough considering he's known to be brash enough he might as well have been raised in the United States. He's quite vocal, he'll admit that, but that's where he likes to think the similarities end. Still, no use in turning down a smile, even if the more obvious natures of the man before him tell him he probably shouldn't bother.

"Is that so?" he asks, but believing it is something else entirely. "If I see them—" I'll certify myself as utterly insane, he thinks, but doesn't finish. No use in sowing those seeds, particularly not when he's already had his run-in with an institutionalized diagnosis.

Prior shrugs and looks all that much smaller as his shoulders turn in. He'd never considered himself small — for his time and place, he's about as perfectly average as they come — but Billy feels but a handful of a man in contrast; if comparing the broadness of their shoulders alone, they're as different in width as their respective countries of origin.

"But... why?" The incredulity is not spared. "Why the rabbit and why Alice and—" His hand sweeps at their surroundings as if Sam clearly hadn't noticed how truly bizarre all of this appears. "And why not him? Who says that bastard gets an out?" Likely the part of Billy's mind that must have created all of this, right? Why else would it all feel so... curiouser and curiouser?

[ofletters]

"Why?"

It's a good question. Though, in Sam's own experience, God had created the universe and eventually flew the coop, so... why wouldn't Lewis Carroll do the same? If he had created this particular Wonderland, that is, and is involved in any way.

"You'll never get good answers with that question," the younger Winchester chuckles. "Trust me."

It's asking a lot, since they'd just met, he realizes.

"He might not have anything to do with this," Sam muses, shifting his weight. "Or... he might, but we've got no proof either way."

They don't have a lot of proof in any direction, unfortunately. Sam's been in Wonderland for nearly four years, and he feels like he's lost more than he's gained in all that time.

[fissure]

If Prior's to make suggestions on what Sam might have lost in the last four years, at least he knows where to start.

"You're a utter wealth of information. Has anyone said so?" he asks, not once allowing himself to be taken in by the perception of a greater knowledge. So far all Sam has done is speak in the same kind of riddles that already characterize Carroll's unstable landscape.

Arms stiff at his side, he clutches his fingers into tight fists and then releases them slowly. It's better than grinding his teeth, but the popping of his knuckles as his hands tighten down on themselves tell tales he doesn't bother answering for. He feels angry. Deceived without a target to lash out against.

"No credit for his inspiration, I see. Unless he just another loony like the rest of us, writing about what he's seen." The way he accents loony, with distaste on his tongue, says a lot for his own credibility on the subject.

It's going to take a while for Billy to accept any of this is more than a dream brought on by psychosis.

[ofletters]

Sam smiles thinly, offering a weak shrug.

"What I 'know' about this place is pretty flimsy... and changes all the time. I'd be suspicious of people with stronger theories, 'cause they either haven't been here long enough or they haven't really thought it through."

This guy seems cynical enough, which is, admittedly, a good thing to be in Wonderland.

"I'm not a big believer in the 'all or some of us are crazy' theory, but to each his own. Like I said, there's no single explanation, so you can more or less adopt the one you like best."

[fissure]

"I think you mean I should adopt the theory that's most convenient for my fragile psyche," Prior huffs, his expression faltering into uncertainty for moment. He's been warned enough about the easy answer versus the correct answer, and tempting as it may be to take the easy answer, it's not always the most beneficial choice, particularly when it leads to such a deviance between what Billy can see and what he already knows. "Works for me." A lie, but for now, not the worst he can tell.

Giving in to the inevitable (for once without a grand amount of fuss), he finally offers out his hand in greeting. "Prior. Billy Prior."

Despite the way lieutenant is tempting to creep into the mix, he leaves the designation for another time and place. There's no King and Country here, and even if there were, he'd be pressed to admit his place in the military after all he's seen and experienced. One look of pity, to him, is every bit as awful as one look of contempt. Better to avoid the lot if he can help it, although standing around in early twentieth century regalia certainly does him no favors.

[ofletters]

"I mean, that'll work, too."

Whatever keeps you sane in an insane place. Sam eyes the stranger and his shifting expression. When the guy introduces himself, the younger Winchester offers his own hand, shaking firmly.

"Sam Winchester. Nice to meet you, Billy." There's something below the surface of this guy, but he's not exactly sure what it is, yet. "Where'd you come from, right before this? If you don't mind my asking."

It'll almost definitely offer some insight into Billy's demeanor... unless he lies.

[fissure]

Suspicious wording, Prior notes, thinking it particularly out of place for all they've already said. It has got him thinking, though, about the moments before his arrival, and how he can't quite convince himself that wasn't the real dream. (Or nightmare, as he has the great luck of remembering it, as Rivers would remind him.)

"France," comes his clipped reply, so lacking in detail it might as well be useless. It says something - he's certainly not French - but it doesn't speak of the turmoil, of the limping Western Front, nor does it really give Winchester an indication of what makes Billy so frightfully churlish. And why should he explain that? He doesn't know the guy from Adam, and even if he did, the Americans have certainly won themselves no favor in their bumbling attempts to find glory, arriving so late to the party.

He deflates, his shoulders dropping and his chin dipping. The end had been so near, although he has no way of knowing that now. Within hours they would be making a great push, a terribly inefficient shove at the Front that would cost Prior his life. While ultimately effective - one of the last offensives of the war - it would also claim a thousand more lives in the process.

"Why?" He thinks it a fair question, if only because of the wording. Why is it important to know just that? He hardly thinks it a coincidence the question feels so out of place.

[ofletters]

"Why?"

There are a lot of reasons he might want to know, a lot of reasons that he does want to know, but Sam merely shrugs, looking as if it had been nothing more than a polite inquiry.

"Everyone comes from a different place, more or less," he explains. "And... sometimes, the memories of that place come back to haunt you. Literally. And not just you."

That's too foreboding to let lie, so he sighs and goes on: "Wonderland's got a way of... twisting our memories and bringing them through here. We call them 'events,' and they crop up every few weeks."

Some are kinder than others. He thinks briefly of his own, of the rooms that bore dream-like fantasies. That hadn't been so bad (though it was arguably cruel).

"So if I catch sight of any, uh... French flags, I know who to blame," he finishes by way of offering levity.

[fissure]

"Won't be the French you'll want to look out for," he muses grimly, and not without effect. In Prior's world, and especially in his own mind — where he surely must be, surely — there's no ignoring that particular beast. Where unknown, there place monsters, Billy recalled, his head shaking slightly in response to his own thoughts. The sheer frustration he feels because everyone so conveniently ignored the known monsters in their midst for so long has yet to sift through, and what lingers irritates like thorns in his socks. But thorns, at least, and not something so much worse.

Who has time to imagine monsters, anyway?

Instead, he imagines for maybe just one moment that he's not at war with everyone and some of that aura of displeasure is allowed to fall away. "You don't happen to have a cigarette, do you?" Woodbines, Lucky Strikes, it's all the same, he thinks (until he has room to choose, of course). "I've gone without plenty, but there's certainly no signs of famine here..." His eyes cast around a wary glance. He could probably roll up the sidewalks and smoke them if this really is Wonderland.