[OPEN] Ready or Not...

[widows_kiss]

Who: Natasha & whichever unlucky souls stumble across her!
Where: the kitchen
When: evening of 4/21
Rating: PG-13ish? There might be cursing but hopefully no violence. Probably. Maybe? >.>
Summary: Hello, Wonderland! There's a spy rooting through your drawers. Wait, that didn't come out right...
The Story:
Natasha knows something is off before she even opens her eyes.

She's slumped over a solid surface, her head cushioned on her arms, toes just barely reaching the floor beneath the stool or whatever it is she's perched on. She goes from the unawareness of sleep - or unconsciousness? - to high alert in the span of a heartbeat, although visibly she doesn't so much as twitch. Her breathing remains calm and even as though she were still deeply asleep, but she's already cataloging what her senses can tell her without the aid of her eyes.

This is not her sofa, where she's fairly certain she'd drifted off a short while earlier. Her thoughts are clear, not clouded or foggy, no telltale traces of a foreign agent responsible for missing time and changed locations. She's unhurt except for the lingering ache of still-healing injuries and as far as she can tell there's nothing restraining her. It's quiet - no hint of anyone else around, although she waits almost a minute to be sure before letting her eyes slide open.

The kitchen's unfamiliar. Large, well-equipped, tall windows letting in the warm rays of a setting sun. There's a bowl of fruit at the other end of the counter, simple and unassuming. Nothing is familiar and nothing stands out as obviously out of place, other than her. It's just a kitchen. One she's got no idea how she arrived in, but at least she's apparently been given the freedom to look around.

Natasha slides off the stool to prowl around the room, checking the windows first but there's no one in sight, just an ornate stretch of gardens outside. Her second task is rooting through the kitchen drawers in search of a knife or anything else she can use as a weapon.

She's not sure why she's here, if she's in danger or not, but she likes to be prepared for anything, just in case. And call it paranoia but waking up somewhere strange and unfamiliar - no matter how pleasant - rarely results in anything good.

On second thought, maybe she'll borrow a few knives...

Comments

[imnotsure]

"...You know, they're gonna notice."

There's only so long that Selina can stand playing at Holly - the girl is too sweet, too naive, and probably the worst idea for a cover in the history of histories. All the same it seemed to keep people off, except Blake.

Still, you can only play innocent to a point, which is why she's leaning against the fridge wearing a dior dress and a necklace. Anyone with an experienced eye can tell that both the diamonds and the ruby are real. Very real.

"It's a communal kitchen."

[widows_kiss]

Natasha glances up at the arrival, nothing about her giving away that she was assessing for threats with an intent gaze. Her pose and expression is purposefully casual and not at all like she just got caught red-handed attempting to steal the cutlery. She takes the speaker in with a glance before straightening with a smooth grace, one eyebrow arching upwards in inquiry.

"Communal for who?"

Since that seemed the most relevant question at the moment.

[imnotsure]

"Everybody in the land of misfit toys." She gestures, indicating the mansion as a whole, "There something...stressing you out darling?"

She could relate honestly, if her own instincts weren't going off five alarm.

[widows_kiss]

"Besides the fact that I don't know where I am or why?" Natasha shoots back, folding her arms over her chest as she regards the woman intently. There's a shadow of a smile on her lips, patient, curious. "No, not at all. Are you the welcoming committee or are you just here to be distressingly vague and mysterious?"

[imnotsure]

Selina laughs at that. Genuinely laughs, it's warm and almost friendly, "...Okay, okay. I'm not playing fair but in all seriousness don't take the knives, the closet in your room when you find one will give you whatever you want. I mean take one if you want but..."

Shrug. She somehow feels like she doesn't need to give that kind of advice, looking her up and down she nods mutely. After encountering Hannibal, will, and others... not to mention meeting some people face to face, there are certain people that "Holly" won't work on. In a way it's a relief."

"Look, the majority of people here are saps, who'll fall for the first routine that somebody gives them but everybody's off their game. Ever read Alice and Wonderland? Watch the Disney movie?"

She gestures around, "This is it. Or a piece of it. We're either guests or captives, or captive guests. It's a nice place to be if you're looking to get away for awhile. If you're not, good luck finding a way out going too far off the grounds...bad idea."

[seekinghome]

Ed watches her from the doorway, bemused. "How many knives do you need?"

[widows_kiss]

There's no guilty start at being caught when he speaks up. If anything, Natasha looks bemused by the interruption, glancing up casually as she palms one of the blades out of sight. It's not her first, but she's not about to give away numbers.

"I suppose 'as many as I can carry' sounds a little obsessive, doesn't it?"

[seekinghome]

"Just a bit."Ed's not going to mention that she's been here before. Obviously, she doesn't remember, and given that she has at least one knife on her person, it's probably best not to poke buttons.

"Any particular reason you're trying to make life difficult for those that cook well enough for doing so to be a good idea?"

[widows_kiss]

She tilts her head to the side, considers him thoughtfully for a moment although she remains where she is. Her lips twitch, one corner lifting in dry humor as she shrugs and gives a blunt answer.

"I thought it would help even the playing field for when whoever is responsible for me being here showed their face. Would that be you?"

She didn't think so, but it was too early yet to be making assumptions about anything or anyone.

[eatsyourscience]

The kitchen is a place where Souji spends a lot of time, despite the fact that he works in an impromptu diner upstairs. He's gotten in the habit of cooking his own meals, even though the dining room is much more convenient, and he's never found a good reason to stop. If nothing else, it was a useful way to meet people.

He's not entirely surprised to find someone he doesn't recognize in the kitchen. It's also not surprising for her to look like she's on edge--arriving does that to most people. It's the people who are calm right off the bat that he has to wonder about.

"Hey." His greeting is accompanied by a lazy wave. He comes further into the kitchen, but doesn't approach her. People, newcomers especially, need space.

[widows_kiss]

Natasha was preparing for a lot of people to come through that door, expecting a confrontation, an explanation, something, but the casual disregard as if nothing were out of the ordinary gave her pause. Her hidden knives stayed sheathed for the moment, out of sight, her posture not threatening, just a little wary.

"Hey yourself." He's young, and not at all what someone would expect of a kidnapper or whatever other reason she's unexpectedly here. He doesn't approach her, keeps a careful distance, and she can appreciate that, but she does wander a little closer, gaze intent.

"Are you the welcome party then, or am I to assume I sleepwalked?" The question is light, almost unconcerned in its humor, her head cocked to the side inquisitively.

[eatsyourscience]

"If I'm the welcome party, I'm a pretty bad one." He offers a small half-smile that's meant to be more consoling than amused.

He crosses the room to rummage in a cupboard. "I can't really tell you how you got here, but I can tell you about the place itself."

Unfortunately, his answer to most of the questions newcomers ask has to be "I don't know." Even after three years, it's been impossible to learn some of the most basic things about this place.

[widows_kiss]

"You're not surprised to see me." It's not a question, merely a curious statement of fact as he carries on in whatever brought him to the kitchen. She hadn't been anticipating anything of the sort, but someone hadn't seen fit to give her a heads up.

Natasha really hated surprises.

"Alright. I'll bite. What can you tell me?"

[possiblymad]

Loki isn't one to sneak off for a midnight snack. Or a mid-afternoon snack. Well, for any kind of snack in general, but he's spent the last few days (week?) barricaded in the library with a simple illusion cast over himself to keep him out of sight while he diligently researches everything he can on this Land of Wonder. Several kind souls recommended reading that interesting tale called 'Alice in Wonderland'. He also found several other pieces of literature linked to the very same. One, in particular, called 'Through the Looking Glass'. To be quite honest, they were not exactly his cup of tea, but he suffered through them for information's sake.

Now, that leads to his current predicament, in which he decided it might be a good idea to actually ingest something semi-decent and rehydrate his body, when he walked in on a rather curious sight. Said sight was rummaging through a drawer of cutlery, causing Loki to immediately retreat right back out of the room before she could turn. She probably heard him--he wouldn't put it past that crafty cow--so he needed a disguise before she inevitably came after the intruder.

Out of view, a shimmer of magic washed over his form, concealing it under the guise of another, before he stepped back into view.



Complete with dark sunglasses, some scruff, a sharp waistcoat, tie, and formal shirt, he struts into the room with all the energy he can muster to appear jovial and light-hearted.

"Are you looking for something specific, or do you usually take to raiding unfamiliar drawers of cutlery? Seems like a strange habit to me, but who am I to judge, Miss...?" He prompts for her name, though he already knows it. He knows much more about her than one might imagine, actually, but right now, he's just playing the part of some poor defenceless human with no knowledge of the Avengers. A human who has been reading too much and can't seem to come up with a decent cover name that doesn't involve that god-forsaken book! Thus, Thomas Cheshire was born.

[widows_kiss]

She'd heard the movement, yes, but he was out of sight when she turned, which did nothing to subdue her sudden suspicions. Natasha was armed now - although not visibly - and facing the doorway when he reemerged, her gaze watchful and alert. The likeness was not identical to the Asgardian menace she knew, but the similarities were impossible to miss and it took all her willpower not to drop a blade to her fingertips and act before he did.

She doesn't buy the act - his resemblance is too eerily shocking for that - but she makes no move towards him, guarded as he strides into the room with an easygoing manner. She doesn't believe in coincidences, not when they show up wearing that face, and her hand lingers on the edge of the drawer as she watches him.

"When I wake up in unfamiliar places with no idea of how I got there? It's not a strange habit at all. Perhaps you'd like to explain that?"

She doesn't give her name, doesn't give anything more than a seemingly straightforward answer to deflect his own questions, waiting to see what - if anything - he would give her in return.

[possiblymad]

He's certainly done his homework here. One might think that showing her a face that so much resembles that of a certain trickster, when he could so very easily have changed it entirely, would be a bad move on his part. Really, it only helped cover his tracks if he could misguide her with truths. It was a convoluted plan, but he had his reasons. Reasons that would become evident as time progresses.

"Ah, yes. That." He flashes her a sympathetic look, but the smile doesn't break for long. "So, you must be new here, then? Like the rest of us, we wake in a strange world without a clue as to how we arrived. You get used to it, I assure you." He offers up another big smile, never removing the glasses.

"Then let me be the first to welcome you to Wonderland, in person!" He doesn't dare drift much closer, but folds his arms casually, watching her intently behind those shades. "This place really does live up to its suggested name. A land full of wonder." His tone almost takes on that of a charismatic storyteller about to tell a fascinating tale of old, even raising his eyebrows suggesting the very same.

"You might think me mad, but you've been whisked away to another world, as far as I can deduce. It captures remarkable subjects from different worlds--universes, even." Oh, he's an open book, my dear! He'll give you whatever you want to know. In regards to Wonderland.

[widows_kiss]

"Wonderland."

Her tone is oh-so-unimpressed as she watches him. The fact that he keeps the glasses on is an annoyance but there are other tells she can watch for, and she does, noting nuances in his tone, expressions, even his pose. Her skeptical response makes it clear she's not going to just take his word for it. Which shouldn't be surprising, even if he didn't look like the god of lies. A children's tale? Really?

"Does that make you the White Rabbit?"

[notmymccalling]

Scott couldn't help but notice the rather distinct sound of someone rifling through a drawer of silverware and other utensils. It wasn't particularly loud, but it was enough for his enhanced hearing to pick up as he passed the kitchen. So he backtracked and peeked inside. Wow, okay. He knocks lightly on the door frame to get her attention. You do not just walk up behind a woman gathering knives and startle them. Even if you do happen to possess a supernatural healing factor. Healing or not, it still hurts!

"Um... You know, it's probably easier to ask the closet for something more specific than steak knives. ...if you're looking for weapons, I mean." Why else would anyone be collecting blades in such haste? And yes, Scott sounds totally sane. Just ask the closet. It makes perfect sense to a newbie.

that journal name though XD

[widows_kiss]

Her head comes up, awareness prickling at the back of her neck for no reason she can name, because the young man standing there looks relatively harmless. She'd heard him before the knock though and when he tries for her attention, she's got no weapons in hand or anywhere else visible. Not that she doesn't have them now, they're just safely tucked out of sight with an adept slight of hand.

Natasha straightens, one hand resting atop the counter as she opens her mouth to answer and then pauses, his opening words sinking in. Her eyes scrunch slightly in confusion.

"Ask... the closet. Was that supposed to make sense?"

Then again, nothing was making sense since waking up in a strange kitchen with no idea how she'd gotten here.

I thought it clever! XD

[notmymccalling]

Scott blinks. Oh.

"You really are new. Sorry, I haven't met everyone here yet, so I wasn't sure. Yeah, uh... I guess it sounds kinda dumb if you don't know what I'm talking about." Scott frowns a bit, scratching the back of his head in thought. Okay, so he'd done this with Erica. He could do this again, right? Except, he knew her. He knew how she took things. Sort of. He didn't know this woman, and she had no reason to believe him.

He steps into the room a bit more, but doesn't get more than a few meters of her. Something about her makes him nervous. It was that feeling he got when there was danger. Thank you werewolf senses for being an ominous, cryptic pain in the neck.

"It's like... some scifi thing. Sorta. Everyone has a closet in their rooms here. If you ask it for something, it usually, um... kind of creates it?" He sounds so unsure near the end of that sentence, because honestly, he doesn't know the specifics about it either. "Okay, less scifi and more magical? I'm really not as crazy as I sound." He laughs lightly, nervously. The chemosignals he was getting from here were mixed and somewhat overwhelming. He didn't even understand half of them. He was too new at this sort of thing.

In for a penny... "You're in Wonderland. It's not much like the book, actually, but all the weird stuff is real."

[widows_kiss]

"Wonderland," she echoes and she can't help the skepticism thick in that word as she glances around her, letting herself relax, physically projecting that she doesn't mean harm. She hasn't missed the way he's nervous and fidgety and keeping his distance and she hadn't meant to cause that but maybe he's more observant than he appears, so she makes the extra effort.

"Yes, I'm new. Apparently. By a few minutes, I think, but I'm not entirely certain because I'm not sure how, exactly, I got here. Or why. But you're not surprised to find that I am nw here so I'm guessing this is a thing that happens? What else can you tell me?"

Since he seems willing to give her answers, she might as well press for them.

[avoirfaim]

Even if the kitchen is most definitely communal, Hannibal has taken to treating it as his very own. He keeps it neat, he sucks his teeth when someone has moved something and leaves polite but stern notes warning against doing that again. The kitchen is communal after all, and we all must know where to find what we're looking for.

The plan for dinner tonight is simple. The kitchen has taken to giving him random chops of meat in the fridge, whether they be human or animal, and the game begins. He can be inventive, and perhaps that's the point. Exercise your creativity, for you will need it here in the confines of your gilded prison. In order to do what you like you're going to need to think outside the box in an instant. And so he does what's necessary for a satisfying meal.

He watches the stranger for a moment, silent from the doorway, before speaking up.

"I hope you plan on putting those back when you're finished."

[widows_kiss]

She doesn't start - she'd had a sense someone was nearby, although she doesn't look up until he speaks, her green gaze intent and watchful as she takes him in. She straightens calmly, fingers casually curled around the handle of a knife. Not at all what she wanted, but it would do in a pinch. One hip leans against the edge of the counter as she cocks her head and studies him. She's not outwardly projecting a threat but that subtle edge of readiness is there all the same.

"I'd be happy to, if someone will take the same courtesy with me. Do I have you to thank for this?"

[avoirfaim]

Then they're on the same page.

In his pocket, his fingers wrap around the scalpel he's taken to carrying around, ready to pop the cap off if he needs to. He's sure he won't, but the way she holds that knife is reason enough to be ready. That knife could cut through the tension like tenderloin.

Despite the scalpel in his hidden hand he just smiles, with the barest traces of the condescension one wears when they know something someone else does not. Friendly, but condescending none the less.

"You have as much to thank me for as I do you. There is really no point in taking your anger out on the kitchen and those who use it.

[widows_kiss]

"Did I imply I was angry?"

One eyebrow arches upwards as a corner of her lips twitches, a faint show of mild humor as she watches him. She doesn't miss the faint tension in his arm, the subtle shift of movement one she recognizes and he's not unarmed, a useful piece of information, though she makes no moves yet, not until she knows who and what she is dealing with.

"If I were taking out a fit of temper against the kitchen, it would look much worse than this. I was merely preparing. It seemed a wise choice after waking unexpectedly here. Care to explain that?"