+ It's good that we can't see what isn't there +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: EVERYONE
Where: Wonderland and adjacent dimensions!
When: Friday, April 21st to Monday, April 24th
Rating: PG-13, warn if higher!
Summary: A place to list your tears throughout the event, and describe the worlds that can be seen or accessed through them. Event Post.
The Story:

While invisible zombies ravage Wonderland, tears are popping up everywhere! Through them characters can see versions of themselves from alternate universes. Some of them show a different version of Wonderland, some a different version of their home. Some are as benign as a character drinking coffee instead of tea, others are as drastic as somebody's entire personality changed completely.

On day one tears are so small as to barely even be recognisable. Faint voices and melodies can be heard through the tiny cracks if you step really close, but these brief and indistinct glimpses are barely even worth describing.

On day two tears have opened up wide enough to recognise them for what they really are. Yesterday's melodies will sound clearer, and the voices will become decidedly familiar, belonging to people characters know, sounding perhaps even like the characters themselves. Look through the tears and they may catch sight of home, or something that merely looks like another part of Wonderland. The tears are yet narrow and instable though, and the field of vision is correspondingly poor.

On day three the tears have grown a great deal. The worlds beyond them can be seen and heard, though most cannot be interacted with at all. Only the biggest ones are already stable enough for characters to stick their hand inside, and pulls through any objects within reach.

On the fourth and last day some tears have finally become large and stable enough for characters to pass through whole. Not all tears will reach this stage, but those who have can be visited, and the world beyond them explored... at each character's own peril.

Comments

[postictal]

Immediately, the prickle hums down the back of his neck, and he has to look over his shoulder, an impulsive, slightly frantic motion. Checking the corners of the room. Checking everything over, making sure nothing's slipped inside in the interim.

"Can these things...bring stuff? Into Wonderland?"

[choosetruth]

"I don't know. But they're very small." Not quite as small as they were yesterday, though. That... could be bad. "Why?"

[postictal]

"Not like a - person or anything? Nothing like that."

But that doesn't matter, does it? That doesn't matter if It doesn't come through. It's not possible, he'd think, for there to be a version of him that didn't claw up against the thing scrabbling in the confines of his skull. It just has to get a glimpse, just has to look for people -

And they're fucked. Just like that, they're all fucked.

[choosetruth]

"I know I give off the impression of knowing everything, but this one's not from my world. I can't tell you." There's a tinge of dry amusement to her tone, though her brow is knit with worry. She knows enough about Tim's world to be well aware that whatever he's worrying about could be very well worth worrying about, and that odds are good he won't tell her because of its freaking spread by telling people feature.

"But, whatever it is, it should go away at the end of the event. That's how events work."

[postictal]

"It should," he mutters darkly. "Sometimes stuff - sticks.

That's about all he can say without digging the weight of more questions in on his back, though knowing the way things are with her, even that can't be guaranteed. She's done an admirable job of not prying further, not verbally.

There's only so long that can last.

[choosetruth]

"You think there might be a tear from your world." Georgia looks at him, expression serious. "You think someone's going to see something they shouldn't."

And from the not nearly enough that she knows about his circumstances, just seeing it could be dangerous.

[postictal]

"I think it's a very real possibility," he says grimly. "And that's not something that...it doesn't just go away, not if it's - not if It's - "

He can't finish. There aren't any fucking words for the thing, facelessly looming out at him from the corners of his own mind. Whatever vocabulary was once assigned to It, nothing's actually come close to defining It, what It's capable of.

[choosetruth]

"Mental trauma doesn't heal as easily as physical trauma." And she's aware this is probably a lot less simple than, say, the way she now wants to vomit whenever she's in a room with white walls. This is mental trauma plus whatever magical nonsense it ties into. "Something like that, right?"

[postictal]

"Yes?" Immediately contradicted by the way he shakes his head, mouth tightening. "I mean - no, it's like...it's like - "

One hand cups in front of him as he tries to pin words to it, some kind of explanation that won't make her curious beyond measure, that won't lead her to seek It out.

"Like...a virus. Like something that spreads. 'Cause you've seen It, 'cause you talk about It."

Because you broadcast your findings to some hundreds of thousands of people on YouTube.

[choosetruth]

"Going viral." It's not a term that's especially popular anymore, for obvious reasons, but Georgia knows enough about the internet before she was born to at least understand the term. And she certainly understands how dangerous viruses can be. A third of the world's population died because of the one in her bloodstream.

"So what do you intend to do about it?"

[postictal]

Therein lies the question. The most he can do is scour Wonderland and makes sure no one gets a faceful of something they can't get rid of, a burning in their eyes and in every synaptic twinge that follows.

"I don't..." That's the easy way out. He doesn't know. He never knows. Always helpless to prevent whatever comes next, striving desperately to save someone, just one person, and never knowing if he'll really succeed.

If there's something he can do about it -

It's better than doing the same kind of nothing he's done before.

"Make sure It can't get through."

[choosetruth]

She nods, one corner of her mouth tipping up in approval. "Good." It's not exactly a plan, but it's a statement of intent, at least. It's a start. "You'll let me know if there's any way I can help?"

[postictal]

If she can help. If she can, without getting any of It in her head, muddying her thoughts, obscuring the truth in bright smears of static. Would she turn out more like Jay, striving for answers despite the warning signs? Like Alex, desperate to close out every loose tie once she discovered what It was capable of? Would she -

He nods once, grimly.

"Yeah," he says. "I'll let you know."



So he does what comes naturally.

He tells a lie.

[choosetruth]

George eyes him another moment through her sunglasses, frowning slightly. She doesn't believe him. It's hard to believe him about much when it comes to his mysterious thing he can't talk about, that can infect minds like a virus. He won't let her know.

But she does believe it's too protect her. And as much as she hates the idea that she might need protecting, she....

Fuck. She already gave her life to the search for truth once. It's not goddamn fair. She's torn, wrenched between the part of her that still doesn't know how to ignore a story and the part of her that wants nothing more than to be done. She's given her all and they brought her back to give more. And she knows in her heart that she won't be able to stop herself forever. When the truth starts mattering less than her own well-being, she'll truly stop being Georgia Mason.

But right now, she has a reason to preserve herself, and not just because she promised she wouldn't pry. She needs to survive long enough to tell Shaun what's going on. And that means keeping her word and letting this story go. Letting Tim deal with this shit on his own.

So she does what doesn'tcome naturally at all. She lies right back and pretends she believes him.

"All right. Good." She nods mechanically. "You know how to find me." She turns sharply, shoving her hands into her pockets and walking away rather than continuing to face him. He might not judge her, especially since it's what he wants. But she sure as hell judges herself.