+ Somewhere a Grandiose Carnival Was Going on in the Sky +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The grounds of the Mansion
When: March 9-16
Rating: PG-13 (warn if you go higher)
Summary: The Red Queen has thrown a carnival for everyone!
The Story:


From Friday, March 9, through Friday, March 16, the gardens and grounds of the Mansion will be a sprawling a carnival. The masked, unspeaking vendors will be selling trinkets and running free game booths. Carnival rides, exhibits, and foods represent all of the various cultures of those currently residing in the Mansion.


Of particular note, and perhaps incongruously, everything is decorated with red hearts.

Use this log for any and all of your carnival needs!

Comments

[deadshapes]

"Oh man, I love that shit. There's something kind of beautiful about that, right? Abandoned buildings and stuff. Like..."

She pauses to chew and parse her thoughts.

"So, my hometown is like...a pretty typical old mining town, right. Abandoned shit everywhere, mine carts rusting on hills, sinkholes. The town's just kinda dying, yanno? But like...it's holding on. Right? There's something beautiful about that. I mean, nature reclaiming stuff and all, but also just...things holding on. People and towns and buildings got that way of holding on for as long as they can, and that's just..."

She trails off and shrugs, realizing she's getting a bit too philosophical. Touching too closely to all those big fancy ideas she used to finally shut the voice up.

"It's just cool as hell."

[postictal]

He watches the spark of enthusiasm flicker and then...die, as though she's censoring herself down. Kinda like how Jay only answers questions in short little bursts, barely letting on anything about himself, save for the one time Tim pushed.

Like he didn't expect anyone to be interested. Like he'd never had anyone ask him about his own interests before in his life.

"Guess I'd have to see it to believe it," he says, noncommittal. "Bet it feels like this...whole other world. Like time's frozen, maybe."

Or maybe that's stupid of him, to assume.

[deadshapes]

He doesn't want to hear about cults that worship holes in the ground with weird elder gods at the bottom. No one wants to hear about that stuff.

She's kind of worried that talking about it might bring it here.

"No, yeah. I know what you mean, that's exactly it. You see that stuff and like...it's easy to feel like it's a thousand years later and there's no people left or something. Or like it's a thousand years in the past or something."

[postictal]

Boy, that's a Mood(tm).

"Maybe we'll get to see it someday," he says, which is...probably equal parts comforting and not, considering that it's just as liable to backfire on Mae as it is to backfire on damn near everyone else. You lose a word when an event crops up from your world. That's just the name of the game.

Maybe it's cruel to wish that upon her - and, by extension, Wonderland.

[deadshapes]

She actually snorts, which blows a puff of powdered sugar into the air.

"I mean, I hope that if an event of mine happens, it's just like...'hey everyone, welcome to my hometown, it's a shithole but it's still pretty cool!' And not like...worse stuff."

Everyone's got worse stuff, so she figures there's no point in hiding it.

[postictal]

"It's been known to happen," he says, dismissive. "There was this one time - I think it was Shepard's world. We just kinda ended up in space for a few days, in this place called the Citadel. I'm pretty sure no one died. People just...played laser tag and looked at stars and stuff."

Nice events do happen, albeit few and far between. There was the whole shit with the ski resort, not that it was an especially pleasant time in the wake of Jay's disappearance. Jay Number One, anyway.

[deadshapes]

"Aw mannnn. I heard about that one. I'm still so mad that I missed it. There was that like...ski resort one too. That was how I met Turing. Good times."

Why can't there be more nice events like that? Come on now, Wonderland. Does everything really have to be awful all the time?

[postictal]

"Turing? The little...that robot?" There are multiple robots around, he knows full well, but not very many of them are tiny and round and blue. Save for Turing's Mirror, presumably, but he's not going to make that assumption either until he meets them for real.

Assuming he ever does.

"I mean, one of the many robots I guess we have around here?"

[deadshapes]

"Yeah, Turing's the small one with the spherical head. Jeez, we've got a lot of robots in Wonderland, have you noticed? That one with the, like, flashlight head...that Mettaton guy... I always liked mixing up genres like that."

What were they talking about? Oh, right.

"Anyway, yeah, me and them had a snowball fight and that's how we met."

[postictal]

"Flashlight head?" He's not well-versed on his robot mythology, or on who's who outside of the circle of people he interacts with regularly. Despite him making active attempts to be less of a shut-in, he's still woefully under-socialized, and it's starting to show.

Especially considering Mae hasn't been here nearly as long as he has, and yet has managed to meet more people than him in a much shorter span of time.

[deadshapes]

"Yeah, uh, I see them on the network sometimes? They're...I think they're from Shepard's world?"

He must know Shepard at least. Everyone knows Shepard.

[postictal]

...right, yeah. He's - he thinks he's met them, actually. Not that he was in the right mind at the time. He was stomping through a painfully humid jungle and halfway out of his mind and on the verge of a catastrophic relapse, so he wasn't exactly in a stunning state to be taking notes.

It takes him a minute to recall their name.

"Legion?" he ventures finally. "I think that's it."

[deadshapes]

She snaps her fingers and almost drops the rest of her funnel cake.

"Yeah, that's it. I knew it was something creepy-sounding like that. Man. We really got all kinds here, huh?"

She loves it. Even if it means everyone and their mother thinks she's a cat.

[postictal]

"I dunno about 'creepy,' but yeah, I think they've been here for - maybe longer than I have." His conceptualization of time isn't great, but what else is new? "We've got someone calling himself 'Lucifer' who owns a club. Jury's out on whether or not he's actually Satan."

Does he care? Not particularly. It doesn't really concern him one way or the other.

[deadshapes]

"God, I keep forgetting that that's a thing. I don't think I've ever talked to him. Just like, oh yeah, Satan's here. Which makes you realize there must be versions of Satan, right? Which is surreal as eff."

If there's different universes and timelines and dimensions then there must be variations on everyone. Wonderland is so damn weird.

But at least it has funnel cakes.

[postictal]

Maybe he should ask Satan if he had a hand in Tim's creation, he almost jokes aloud, before remembering who he's talking to. As much as morbid humor is well and good between the two of them, he shouldn't go blurting shit like that to just anyone.

"I dunno. I think most people don't go outta their way to talk to the literal Devil." Assuming he is the actual Devil. He goes around proclaiming himself Lucifer Morningstar, so that probably counts for something.

[deadshapes]

She makes a face. "I can think of a few people who would deffo go out of their way to talk to the literal Devil."

She never thought about their being a Venn diagram between goth kids and actual cult members, but there you go.

"How's your funnel cake?"

She's practically finished with hers, and though her stomach is starting to complain, she is absolutely planning on going back for seconds.

[postictal]

"It's...good." He almost sounds surprised to admit it, to both her and to himself. He doesn't allow this kind of thing for himself all that often. He has to more or less be walked into it, or pushed into it, or has to do it on the behalf of someone else, simply because it never occurs to him that he should for his own sake.

"I'm gonna have like, ten cavities, but - " He was gonna say all you gotta do is die to fix it, but that seems a shade more morbid than is necessary. "...uh, I guess it's pretty worth it."

[deadshapes]

She absolutely beams. He's got that sort of halting tone, like he's still surprised that it's actually good. Like he's surprised something so simple and god can even exist.

"Pfft, yeah, but someone around here's gotta have like...dentist magic or something. It's Wonderland. But either way, hell yeah. Worth it."

Always worth it.

[postictal]

"You wanna finish this one off?" He's...not sure he can finish, honestly, and some instinct left over from the weeks he and Jay switched off ducking into gas stations for whatever shitty not-meal they could scrape together, that would get them by for another day, urges him not to let something like that go to waste.

He's still got a good third or so of it left, and he's officially reached his limit. He's never had this much sweet anything in his life, and he's starting to feel it.

[deadshapes]

"Sure. I got like four stomachs."

That's a total lie. She can practically hear Bea chiding her, telling her she's gonna make herself sick. Screw it! YOLO or whatever.

"We should do this again sometime, dude. I bet I could figure out how to make these. It can't be too hard."

She's going to make funnel cakes or light the kitchen on fire trying.

[postictal]

"Uh, if you're sure." He's privately of the mind that something like that would be a terrible idea on par with driving into a gasoline-soaked house full of zombies blaring eighties music, but sure. She can do what she wants; he's hardly got a track record that would suggest he's in the position to judge.

"Are you...like, a cook, or anything like that?"

[deadshapes]

"I am rapidly becoming more sure."

This is how all of her bad ideas start.

"Me, hell no. I mean, I know how to make ramen. And cereal. Does that count?"

[postictal]

"...sure. Why not?" He's no better. This won't be fucking disastrous or anything, surely. "That's about on par with what I could scrape together in a dorm room or on the road, so yeah, that's...that's gourmet, right there."

Funnel cakes sound intensely complicated and a bad idea for elementary cooks to set about making on a whim.

That sounds like the kind of batshit idea that's doomed to failure.

[deadshapes]

"No no no, you wanna talk gourmet, gourmet is when you dump Froot Loops into the ramen, because you skipped breakfast and that feels weird and it's 11 pm and you're like 'well shit, I gotta eat something.'"

It really, really didn't work out very well, but whatever. College was weird.

"Dude, you and me. Setting kitchens on fire. We're gonna do it."