entrancelogs | open -- event post with starters

Nothing was like anything else Wendy had seen before. Eventually it might remind her of what her life is destined to become, but until then this was disconcerting at best.

The fuzzy feet of her slippers are actually helpful in trying to stay quiet as she creeps along, though if Wendy ever actually has to run she's pretty sure she's screwed. Warmth and comfort did little for traction.

A sound ahead had gotten her low to the floor, peering around the corner. Only to see a familiar face.

"Dad?"

Whispering the word, not entirely ready to trust her own eyes, though Wendy rose and crept closer.

"Dad?"

Repeating it this time, louder. Enough to catch the attention of a figure that very much looks like Manly Dan. A figure who moves much faster though as he launches himself at her. She spins, taking off though her feet slip on the floor.

"Stupid fluffy feet," she growls, finally gaining purchase as it catches up with her. She turns, firing the bolt she has loaded... and missing.

Edited 2017-10-07 20:57 (UTC)

Nathaniel is barefoot, and (luckily) wearing the pair of breeches he'd chosen to go to bed in. It's not the most desirable way to fight, and he can't really say he's ever done worse, but he's managed not to die just yet and at least he has his bow and a decent supply of arrows.

He hears a voice up ahead and ducks down into a low crouch, nocking an arrow into the bow and drawing it halfway. Hearing things has been a common theme in these halls, and while the girl ahead is someone he immediately recognises, it's too dangerous to rely on his senses.

But only one of the people ahead is real, and it isn't too difficult to guess which one. As Wendy's bolt misses, an arrow flies over her head and hits the creature in the neck.

Despite knowing the truth, realizing that while much of Gravity falls is here, this is not truly her father, she still cries out as the arrow flies past her.

Flinching as it hits her father, she ducks her head, looking away. Scurrying to her feet, she runs as fast as slick feet will let her, heading for whoever it is.

"No stick, my butt," she mutters a second before seeing him. "Nathaniel!"

"Wendy, get behind me."

Not to say that she can't take care of herself, but in a place like this it isn't something he wants to leave to chance. There's no way he's going to stand here and let this girl die.

He ushers her behind him and fits another of his limited arrows into his bow. Nathaniel backs up, in the hopes that his first arrow did the trick... but not counting on it. Things here are never that easy.

"Who is this? Your father?" Just a guess. He's really hoping that facsimile of his own doesn't show up.

She knows she's got skills others don't, but that doesn't mean she's risking her life. Even if she feels bile rise in the back of her throat at the idea of risking Nathaniel. Of risking anyone else after all she's been through.

Staying close to his back, not willing to literally leave his side. For her sake. For his own.

"No, no that's not my dad. I don't care what kind of an E-gar suit he's wearing," she says, shaking her head so hard that her hair whips about her face. "But yeah. That's what my dad looks like."

She's quiet a minute before whispering. "Please tell me that's not actually my dad?" Because if Wonderland could do this, she doesn't count that it would.

He'd rather risk himself than her, talents or no talents.

"... it isn't your father," he tells her, giving her a quick glance as he urges her back away from the creature. "If I thought for a moment that it was, I wouldn't have shot him."

Nathaniel doesn't know how likely it is that thoughts of his own father might escape and shape something in the creatures surrounding him, and he isn't sure if he would be as quick to attack as he was when his young friend was in danger.

"Keep moving, and run when I tell you to."

"How do we know? I mean... what if it was? What if its this place and..." Shaking her head, folding her arms tightly over her chest, fingers clenching at her arms until her knuckles are white. Holding it together, because that's what a Corduroy does, but only just so through the physical act.

She's staying close, moving with him but her head, her gaze, never stops moving. Looking back, into the shadows, unable to stop watching, waiting.

"How do we know?"

"Wendy..."

He hadn't even thought about her emotional welfare in the face of watching someone kill a creature that had taken on the appearance of her father. Nathaniel doesn't stop moving, but he does put one hand gently on her shoulder.

"You know you can trust me, don't you? I wouldn't have killed that thing if I thought it was your father. Even for a moment."

She doesn't flinch at his touch, but there's a tensing as if uncertain in that moment. Part of her mind is wondering if things could look like her father, could they look like Nathaniel? Dismissing that thought though, she nodded so hard it made her head hurt.

"I do. I know you wouldn't have, but what... Is that from them taking my memories?"

Because then what else could come for them? What else could she end up seeing?

"I would imagine so."

The things here could be operating in conjunction with Wonderland, or apart from it. Either way, they seem to be drawing from the minds of those they encounter. He had been concerned, at first, that she might be one of them... he wouldn't fault her for being worried about the same thing.

"We should concentrate on getting somewhere safe."

Trying to get somewhere safe, and focusing on that exclusively was not the same thing in that moment for Wendy. Logic said it wasn't her dad, but it was like a nightmare. One of those ones where you watch everyone you love die, violent and gruesome, and you can't get up and you can't move and you wake up screaming.

Except she's awake, and screaming isn't going to help. Neither is crying though she can feel the first pinprick of tears stinging her eyes.

"Thank you. I... I know I'm being ungrateful, but I'm really not. I'm thankful you saved me."

Nathaniel is aware that not everyone has the same experience with combat that he does. He doesn't expect that Wendy would have at all, which is partly the source of his straightforward instructions and guidance, but as she speaks and he hears the faint crack in her voice he stops walking, turning to her instead.

"Wendy..." he says, an uncommon gentleness in his usually rough voice. He places both hands on her shoulders and leans down just a little to put his eyes more level with hers.

"If I'm able to, I will always save you. Never doubt that."

Knowing how to fire a crossbow, and how to live off the land, was one thing. Wonderland and the events was something else entirely, and none of it was Wendy prepared for. Not in the least.

"I... I know you will," she murmurs softly. "I don't even doubt that. I... I owe you. Thank you. Thank you."

It wasn't entirely Wendy but she moved suddenly, hugging him. She hasn't thought much about how much she missed family, having those there that she cared about. Like her brothers. Hugging Nathaniel fiercely, like she would one of her brothers in this situation.

"Ah--..."

Nathaniel doesn't expect to be hugged, but he doesn't push her away. He carefully keeps his bow from hitting her in the back of the head and puts one arm around her, lightly patting the back of her shoulder.

"You don't owe me anything," he tells her, gently moving back with an unusually warm half-smile on his face. "Come through this alive, and we'll call it even. Are you ready?"

Sniffling, she pulls away and stands back, straightening her clothes as if working to pull herself back together again.

"Right. So, thank you," she says, nodding. "And I'm ready. Whatever we need to do? I'm ready." Whatever she has seen, she can get through this. She has to. For both of their sake.

Wonderland hasn't been that bad to Wendy. Suddenly she is wishing for the return of Gravity Falls, and the oncoming first days of school. That had been her deepest horror, this was now the number top prize.

Some prize.

And she is beginning to think that she would love to trade back for wherever she had been before that had creepy dad images and not really creepy kids.

Kids are creepy! She is one. She knows. She has brothers, and these kids "playing" before her are definitely way beyond anything creepy that her brothers could have done.

Since her brother's never had a... maybe a body? to play with.

Not wasting one of her remaining bolts, Wendy picks up something, heavy it at the two kids "toying" with, figuring she needs to get closer and see if it's actually a person or not.

They scatter and as she gets closer, Wendy realizes she can't tell, and that's worse than if it was a person.

"I don't even want to know whose messed up world this was," she mutters, moving further down the hall, away from whatever remains and hopefully away from the children, whatever they are.

Stan is having similar problems with these little gremlin children down the hall, except he's got a couple at his feet and he's only armed with his underwear and a baseball ball.

"Ugh! Get off me, you little trolls!"

He kicks a couple away from him, and then hits one hard enough with his bat that it goes sailing--

--right towards Wendy. Oops.

"Uh-oh. DUCK!"

For a moment Wendy is stunned. Either by the mess of children... or the sight of Mr Pines in his underwear. Though to be honest, in that moment, it's no contest. Why? Why is this something she has to see?

Dropping down to a crouch, reaching up and shoving it into the wall as hard as she can from that position. Slowly raising her gaze and then looking away suddenly.

"OH MY GOD, MR PINES. WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?" Says the girl in footie pjs. "Also, behind you!"

"Woah--!" Stan swings around and cracks his bat into a child-monster's skull, and beats it down a couple more times.

"I didn't HAVE any!" he finally yells. "I sleep like this and Wonderland didn't exactly give us a change of clothes!"

One of the monsters bites his bat and he lifts it up and tries to violently shake it off - and when he does, he finally gets a good look at Wendy and laughs.

"Are you in footie pajamas? Ha! Never woulda guessed that one!"

Wendy winces. They're evil kids but it's still going to make her flinch. They're kids. Maybe. Pretending to be kids, might be a better way of thinking about it. Especially not as she kicks one of them running at her, slamming her foot into it as hard as she can and sending the beastie flying backwards.

"Well start wearing more clothes to sleep in!" She's trying to keep an eye out, and not directly look at her boss at the same time. No. No. This is not a good view.

"What?" She looks down at herself, making a face. "They're warm, and woodland." With pink, and footie feet.

Stan laughs more at that. "Psh. What do I look like, Ford? I'm not paranoid enough to change what I sleep in just 'cause Wonderland's terrible!"

That kind of life is behind him. He is old and he's earned the right to sleep in whatever the hell he wants. On the upside, they're putting a good dent in the evil child monsters both literally and figuratively. Their numbers are dwindling and Stan and Wendy have a pretty good height advantage on the remaining critters.

"Look, just be glad I had something on, alright?"

Edited 2017-11-05 02:04 (UTC)

"Maybe paranoid is not bad," she says, making a face. "And don't take about what he wears either. Things I don't need to know, Mr Pines. Ever."

It's hard carrying on a conversation when you're totally not looking at someone. Of course, focusing on killer kids, and bashing in their heads with the butt of her crossbow? Well that does make it a tiny bit easier.

"Stop that!"

Mental images she doesn't need! She's totally asking the closet later for brain bleach. She bets in Wonderland it's real and not just a meme.

Stan cackles. Harassing Wendy almost makes fighting monsters worth the trouble.

"What? It's true!" he says, as though he doesn't understand at all why she's upset. "This place could've left me here buck naked and cold! I'm just lookin' on the bright side for once!"

He gets what's coming to him though, as one of the kids sinks their teeth into his ankle. Stan hisses in pain, but sucks it up enough to fight.

"Ow!! No, bad! Bad demon kid!"

He smacks the monster child a couple times with his bat until it finally lets go, probably harder than necessary.

"You know, if I accidentally shot you, no one would blame me," she says, not that she's planning to do so. She actually likes Mr Pine, even if she plans on giving him shit. All the time. Especially for this.

"Hey! He's mine to harass," she teases, though she comes closer, kicking it hard with an upward lift the moment it let go. "These aren't like real kids messed up by this place, are they?"

She almost might feel guilty if they were. Kind of. Maybe.

"I'd blame you!" he says. "I'd blame you, and I'd come back and haunt you, and I'd be stuck in whatever I died in, so you'd be stuck with me haunting you in my underwear for the rest of your life."

He knows she isn't really planning on it, but picking on her is part of his job as her boss.

"Eh. Probably not. Granted, I haven't seen Dipper or Mabel around yet, but I haven't heard anythin' about people turnin' in to monsters." Then, he mutters under his breath, "At least it's not freakin' zombies again."

"You're be shot," she argues back. "And betting someone here knows how to exorcise you. If that's a word,' she adds, not entirely sure it is. "Also, ew."

So utterly ew. She totally didn't need those thoughts, or to be haunted by Mr Pines in his underwear.

"Okay, so they could be real kids?" Dammit, that's thoughts she doesn't need. Like they could be her brothers? Nope, she doesn't like that idea at all. "Zombies? Like why could you say that?"

She's been lucky about them. So far.

"I doubt it - weirdo monsters usually only have so much wrong with them or the story gets too long and complicated," he says. "Weird demon goblin children is short and sweet; if you add too much to the lore it gets hard to remember."

Says expert fake-lore-creator Stan Pines.

"Because we've had them way too many times since I got here! I'll be happy if I never see another zombie in my whole life."

"You know this isn't the Mystery Shack, right?" Because he totally sounds like he's in the Shack and she's just sitting behind the register. Damn, what she wouldn't give to just be sitting behind the register again listening to this.

Wendy rolls her eyes at him. "I second that. I never want to see them again." She's only seen them once, but that was one time too many.

Every sense she'd had drilled into her since she was little in preparation for living off the land was on high alert. Back to the wall, her crossbow and remaining bolt - and a couple of hastily made ones that might likely snap - but she's trying. Trying not to die. Anything but that.

Which is why she's torn in that moment.

From somewhere down the hall she can hear a voice calling for help. There's a timbre to the voice that makes her think of pain, and someone desperate to catch their breath.

Yet she's run into her dad already in this place, and children, and she's torn between the girl she is who would help people... and staying right where she is and not dying!

Nature and nurture win out in the long run, and she tilts away from the wall, peering down into the darkness to try and see the person. Her fluffy footed pjs are quiet on the floor as she slowly begins edging her way towards the voice. Letting her feet slide rather than picking them up, her crossbow at the ready, and her eyes narrowed. Waiting, watching.

And finally spying the edge of a head moving from the shadows.

"Not a human!"

Which is her new determinant between helping and getting the hell out of there. Sorry any in Wonderland that aren't human.

Turning on heel, one foot slips out from underneath her and she tumbles down.

"Stupid footie pajamas! I'm sleeping in flannel from now on!"

Scrambling to her feet, she spares a glance back, realizing the creature is coming for her.

"Stupid event! Whose world is this even?!?!"

Most of the cries for help Frank's been tracking have been bullshit--he'd crouched, low down, and seen huge...things, misshapen and lumpy, and not a single person in sight.

But that? That wasn't a cry for help, that wasn't one of the pitiful 'Help me! I'm so afraid!' he'd tracked up here.

That was...Redhead.

God fucking dammit.

He's got the leg of a chair--or something. He didn't look too close when he'd grabbed it and tore it off the crushed furniture, and he lunges out, roaring, as the thing makes its move for the girl, swinging the heavy improvised club at the bastard's kneecaps.

"Go!"

Panic coursed through her, heart racing so hard she can feel it pounding in her ears.

She's wily, but it is definitely faster. And there's something, someone, up ahead and a small voice in her head warns her. Whispering that it's another one of them and they're just herding her the way they want her.

Gripping the crossbow, prepared to use it for a club if she has to, hearing a voice. Not that weird kind that had gotten her this far, but one she knew.

Not having time for release as she darts past him, skittering down the hall as she grabs the corner and using the momentum to slam herself against the wall, hidden out of sight before ducking her head and looking back, praying Frank's okay.

For the record, kneecapping the bastard slowed it down...for a minute. It also really pissed the thing off.

Still, it was enough for him to get moving, the thing staggering in pursuit. At least it was roaring, not trying to look like or sound like someone else.

Small comfort, right?

He's not a great fan of running away, so he was moving backwards in stages, making sure the thing had its eyes on him. He catches Wendy's gaze as he backs past her hiding spot, and he points, behind the creature. He'll take this on--she should go back the way they'd come. That was a plan. Not a great one, but a plan.

Wonderland hasn't always been easy, but this is the worst she's gone through since coming here. People spoke of monsters. She suspects Gravity Falls has them on this level. Believing that and seeing it isn't ever the same thing.

She follows that pointing, brows both lifting. Maybe it's challenging him in just leaving him to deal with it. Maybe it's that he's telling her to run back past what might be a body. Hard to tell. Least she's not telling him I told you so.

Instead Wendy is standing perfectly still, nails practically digging into the wall but barely moving. Barely even taking a breath.

True, at least she's not telling him I told you so. She's also not running back to safety.

Right. When they get out of this mess, she's going to get a block of instruction on military hand signals. First, though, he has to get her out of here.

"Open to some ideas, Redhead," he says, keeping his gaze carefully away from where she was hiding, and locked on the creature's face.

"I'm not leaving you here to die," she hisses, keeping her voice as low as she can. "I warned you about it, I'm not letting it happen to you. I can't do that again."

Not again. She can't do that again. One person already died for her, she's not letting Frank be the next one!

"We both get the he... the hell out of here, or neither of us." She doesn't curse, it's the nature of ~~being a Disney character~~ being raised the way she was. Now though she will! "You can't ask me to do that."

Her voice barely cracks, but she shakes her head hard. A bit to emphasis her point, a bit to get rid of the tears.

She holds up the crossbow where he can see it. "I've got one left." Arching her brow, making a throwing gesture. "An eye shot?" Might get them both out of there. Maybe.

He wants to argue about that with her, but, now is not really time, as the creature has moved from snuffling after him to taking razor-edged swipes in his direction. But he shoots her a look that says 'we're going to talk about that later, young lady'. He might not have been the father of a teenager, but he had been a dad. He has a few dad moves.

"Not asking YOU to do anything other than not fucking die." He has no problem bringing the high-rated language--let him handle that department.

Talking to her distracts him a bit, and a claw catches him off side, flinging him to the ground. "Now!" If she's got a weapon, this would be a great time to use it.

Wendy knows after this she is going to learn everything she can. Swords. Guns. Rifles. Freaking rocket launchers if the closet will give her one. Anything to not end up like this again.

She's a Corduroy, daughter of Manly Dan. She was never meant to be a damsel in distress, and she is NOT going to keep getting people killed.

Making a face back at him, hissing her words as low as she can. "I'm not having someone else die in my arms." He dies, she does. She isn't being that person. What would be the point of being near people if she keeps getting them killed?

She doesn't hesitate. She's not trained for all this place throws at them, but this? She knows. Especially when that anger wells up within her. Dammit, she's not getting someone else killed!

Bracing it against her shoulder, she takes aim, a deep breath, pulling the trigger in the exhale and sending the bolt right for one beady eye.

"Me fucking neither!" He sounds a little distracted, trying to fight off a slavering mouth. So, don't get any ideas about dying in his arms. He's vetoing that idea right off the fucking table.

The thing howls as the shot hits home, piercing the thing's eye, and Frank's just not going to think too hard about the warm gross liquid splashing on him. He's just going to roll to one side, get to his feet while the thing's distracted, and grab Wendy by one sleeve, hauling her with him.

"Any idea how to get out of here?" Because it is time to LEAVE.

"Well good! I don't plan on dying here!"

Which most probably didn't, but Wendy had every idea in her head that it was never going to happen.

"Okay, ew," she says, wincing because survival skills or not, she's still a fifteen year old and that is both gross and cool at the same time.

"Actually, yeah," she says suddenly, running along after him. "Up there, turn left. I saw a light there. I was heading that way when it found me!"

Glancing back, making a sound as she sees it moving. "And it's not staying down for long," she hollers, not caring if it hears her. They can make it. She hopes. "That way!"

It's agreed then. No dying. "Going to hold you do that." In other words, don't die on him, because that would really piss him off.

He doesn't waste too much more time chatting, pushing her ahead of him. If the thing's going to catch one of them, it's not going to be her. "Keep going. Don't look back."

"Good. I plan to do the same," she says, glancing up at him, still clutching the crossbow though she's out of bolts. It can work as a club if she needs it to.

"Cause that's easy when someone says that," she mutters, not that she isn't heading at a fast clip towards the glow that she hopes is still there.

"Oh, you wanted the easy level? You picked the wrong ride, Redhead." Welcome to Frank's Inappropriate Comedic Timing. But hey, if he's still talking, he's not being mauled, so there's a plus, right?

"I didn't pick any of this," she points out, looking back over her shoulder because she can't help herself. Swallowing hard at what she saw, her step quickening as she hurried for the flow she could see around the next corner.

"Blaming the headless one next time she's around." Not that she was likely behind this either but still.

"I think I got more'n enough people to blame." But Wendy isn't one of them. "But I'm going to blame myself if I don't get your ass out of here in one piece." So, get hustlin. He's going to turn, picking up a piece of rock, and throw it behind him, like a softball. Won't do anything other than buy a few seconds. Maybe that would be all they'd need.

"And none of them show up," she mutters, rolling her eyes. It's been something that's bugged her since the day she arrived in Wonderland. Even if most days, the days that aren't like this, she doesn't seen entirely much difference between here and home. Except the lack of her family that she desperately missed.

Running now, skidding around the corner and seeing a bright blue light at the end of the hall.

"I really don't trust this," she says, even heading straight for it. Not trusting it doesn't make it the only option at this point.

He looks over his shoulder as she speaks, and sees the blue light. "Too timely to be true, you think?" He thinks so. "Got anything we could pull down in its path?"

"No. I think... I think we're supposed to be here. Because it tried to stop me coming here," she admits, even with the nervousness she feels. "But... we just don't know where it goes. Might be back to the mansion."

It might be worse. They just have no way to know.

"I'm willing to try."

"If it doesn't want us here, that's where we probably want to be." Because fuck these things and whatever they want. "Good. Go. I'm right behind you." As is the damn dog thing, who keeps snarling and snapping at him. But running backwards is hard, even for a trained professional, so he trips going backwards, and his only hope is that he doesn't land ON Wendy.

She had to trust that, sprinting as hard as she could for the lights. Behind her she can hear Frank's boots, the breathing of the creature. It only makes her run faster.

It's that burst that might guarantee he doesn't land on her. Instead hitting into her, sending her sprawling into the bright light, uncertain if he's behind her or will be able to catch up.

"Frank!"

open -- event post with starters

For Nathaniel - Tziah

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Harabah with Stan - More kids!

Oh my god I'm sorry this is so late

Never a problem. Ever.

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Arqa - Wendigos and the Punisher

Re: Arqa - Wendigos and the Punisher

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