entrancelogs | + Your Princess Is in another...Palace +

+ Your Princess Is in another...Palace +

Who: Everyone!
Where: All over Wonderland
When: Friday, 8/24 - Monday, 8/27
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Palaces! This log is for Palace Rulers to post descriptions of their palaces, and for unaffected characters to wander in and out of them.
The Story:

Palace rulers: These are the characters who experience the bout of lightheadedness and spontaneously manifest a Palace starting at noon on 8/24. As soon as the palace forms, the character is essentially sucked into their Palace and made to play the part of the ruler.

These characters will forget they were ever in Wonderland or indeed had any other life outside of their Palace. If Character A's Palace took the form of her living her dream as a world-famous surfer where the oceans are made of cotton candy, she would always believe she'd been a surfer and that oceans have always been made of cotton candy. Any characters who entered her Palace would merely seem like visitors or intruders to the beach. Maybe they're surf fans, too?

It is possible to "wake" a Person from their Palace if one were to kill them (easy mode... if a bit violent) or make them see it's merely a mental construct (hard mode). If a person were to die inside their Palace, however, it would count as a mansion death. There are no real ways to "unmake" these Palaces other than to snap the person out of it or wait for them to run their course.

Palaces are tied to locations that characters frequent or find special meaning in. They do not outwardly change the appearance of the mansion--the clinic will still look like the clinic on the outside, but crossing inside takes you into the mental landscape of that affected character, and it may look however that player chooses it to.

Unaffected characters: Congratulations, you get to explore other characters’ inner world by visiting their Palaces! There is also a chance of danger should a character enter into a Palace whose ruler is likely to see them as a threat. Should Character A as described above not want a person there, sharks on legs might rise from the ocean and attempt to chase them off. (Sorry about that.)

However, there will always be a way to escape a Palace should you need to. There will always be a door leading back to the normal mansion, though no one else in the Palace will be able to see it aside from the unaffected character. If you entered the clinic and it's a barren hellscape, the clinic door will take you back out. Yay!

It is also possible for characters to see cognitive clones of themselves inside someone else's Palace if that person has a mental image of them. How these cognitive versions behave is, however, entirely up to the Palace ruler, whether realistic or not.

See the Bulletin Board for details on the event. You can also go to the plotting post to see what everyone else is doing!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Here?"

Because of course he was here. He's always been here. There's nothing outside of the bar. At the question, he points to a jar on the bar-top. It's full of something that doesn't look like it's actually food, but the label on the jar promises the contents are pickled eggs.

"You got those. If you want to spend the night in fuckin' hospital."

"Ah, perhaps I will... dissuade myself from the temptation."

He looks around a bit more. This place makes Grillby's look like the Applebees on the Good Side of Town.

"So, uh, tell me about this place... that's outside the bar. The city. I'm not from here. We are in..." Asgore searched desperately for a place on earth that wasn't Mt. Ebott. "Is this Alabama?"

"Probably a good idea."

Nobody eats the eggs. Nobody. Not even Fables, and they're immortal. Gren squints, turning to look at the door.

"What? No, it's not fuckin' Alabama. Jesus, ain't you never heard of New York before?"

"Mt. Ebott is... not near anywhere that I am familiar with. So, I am not very familiar with the geography of... anywhere, really. So, did you all move from York and resettle here? In... this New York? Did you rebuild it to look like the old one?"

See, in the Underground, there's Home, and then there's New Home, and they're both basically just... the same place, twice.

"What?" Gren squints, confused. "Shit, no, the other York is what, England? We just all came from the Homelands. To here. You should know this."

Because he's pretty sure Asgore is just a Fable with some serious memory issues. That's all that makes sense right now.

"Ah, no, I am from beneath Mt. Ebott. As I have already said. I have never been to your Homelands because I am... not from them."

Asgore furrowed his brows together. "Is there... aside from having a human body, which I do not possess, something that... I should not be able to do? Or something I should be able to do that I cannot? That might help you to understand that I am not a Fable? I... hmm... could make you a nice cup of golden-flower tea." A real drink, not this piss-poor lager.

Gren is not convinced at all. None of that makes sense. He HAS to be a Fable. That's the only way he'd make any logical sense of being here.

"Sure, buddy. Sounds like you got hit on the fuckin' noggin on the way out."

At the request the bartender gives a sharp, short laugh.

"You seriously came to the Trip Trap to ask for tea?" Gren asks, eyebrow arched. "And no, you ain't convincing me on the not a Fable thing. There ain't anything else other than Fables and mundies, and you sure as shit ain't a mundy."

Asgore shuffles around in the pockets of his cargo shorts (because there's nothing more dad than cargo shorts) and pulls out a few packets of tea that... looks as if they were done by hand. Nicely, though. Someone did this with a world of care. This isn't Lipton. "Grew it myself. If I can get a cup of hot water... or really even just regular water I can provide the heat in a pinch..."

It came to him, as he fussed with his emergency tea supply. "Ah, do... Fables... have hearts? Ones that beat?"

That's a perfectly normal question that's not at all disturbing.

"...You. You just carry tea around with you?"

That was from Holly, who comes to stare at the lovingly created hoard. She does relent though, sighing heavily and offering a hand, open palmed, ready to take one from him.

"Most of us have beating hearts, yeah, on account of not bein' dead and all," this is from Gren. "Why?"

"Of course, madam. I never leave home without a few tea bags. You never know when you might feel the need to brew a cup or two. Please, feel free to make a cup for yourself." He places three tea bags into her palm with a smile.

He turns to Gren. "You are more than welcome to feel for a pulse. I do not have one. I have no blood."

Perfectly normal.

Holly stares at him a moment longer, before exhaling heavily, taking the tea bags and vanishing off to a back room, to boil a kettle. Gren himself arches an eyebrow, at this totally normal and not weird at all request.

"Um...no, thanks. I'll pass."

"We could... engage in a mock battle, and we could determine the color of your SOUL," suggests Rational Guy Asgore Dreemurr. "As a Monster, my soul is weak and colorless, but you have a body of flesh and blood and most likely possess a SOUL far more permanent than my own. I would promise to, uh, do no damage."

Gren's genuinely starting to wonder what in the hell is happening to him right now. The last fight he got himself in ended up with him literally losing an arm. And that was a fight where he at least knew his opponent. This nutjob is a complete dark horse...goat...whatever.

"Yeah, still going for a hard no on that one, Pal."

"Ah, of course. I could describe your... regular form to you. Although this doesn't prove I am something different... it does prove that we've met, at least. You are a large, burly sort of monster, with irregular teeth, very pointy, with a flat mouth... tan-grey colored skin, no hair of note, eyes the same shade as your flesh, a bit deeply set, quite expansive arms... or I suppose arm, and you dwindle a bit in your legs, comparatively speaking. A, uh, little bit sticks up at the top of your head."

Is your photo for sale in all of the shops there, Gren?

"That...was descriptive."

He can't even blame the mundy books for that- whenever anyone illustrates Beowulf, they fail to capture his likeness. They just can never quite decide what he actually looks like. The description clearly puts the other patrons of the bar at unease - because there's only one way this guy can do that. Gren glances at them, then back to Asgore.

"...Alright. That's...pretty fuckin' compelling. Weird, but compelling. Maybe I do believe you. A little."

"You are welcome to feel for my lack of a heart, still, if you need further proof of my... not being from here-ness."

He turns his attention to the women behind the bar.

"I apologize for the continued oddity of my being here, madam. Perhaps, however, the water has come to a boil?"

"Nah, it's okay. I'm pretty done with the proof."

It's still WEIRD, though. Holly makes a soft 'tch' noise, vanishing off into the back. Gren turns to Asgore, looking at him again. There's a tug at his memories, and he doesn't like it one bit.

"So. I know you from somewhere else, then."

"Yes, you do. We met in... a place called Wonderland. There are a somewhat confusing succession of queens, although currently there is a Red Queen and a White Queen and they... appear to be nicer than the Queen of Hearts was, at any rate. Perhaps you remember... meeting me while looking for my son during an alien invasion? It was the first time we met each other. I was quite taken aback by your striking form. There are other people there, too. Many humans. A few other Monsters like myself from my world."

"I know what Wonderland is, and that don't sound like it."

Wonderland fell, like all the Homelands fell. It's likely a husk of what it once was. Still, that is pulling at his memories- he shifts, uncomfortable.

"I- that...that does sound kinda familiar, yeah."

"I have a garden on the rooftop of the building where we live. Lots of pots and potted plants. It's fall now, it's mostly chrysanthemums and late fall vegetables. The place... tends to reset itself. There was a time when we all became characters in a role-playing game. I do not know if you were here for that, though. As I said before, we met when an alien space ship crashed and resulted in a..." he rolled his hand in the air in a gesture that was searching for how to explain that one... "bad time. Mind control and... many deaths. Other events are less stressful. One time you and I were both... Tal-vashoth. Large, silver-skinned fellows with big horns. Really, it wasn't that much of a difference for me, except for the lack of fur and all of that blood sloshing around. There was a dance filled with people who... all hated each other and wore a lot of masks."

Waxing real poetic over here.

That's an awful lot to take in in one sitting, give him a minute buddy. Still, the more Asgore speaks, the more that slots into place. By the time he finishes, Gren is frowning up at the ceiling.

"Awwwww shiiiiiit. This is fuckin' Wonderland bullshit."

He did it!

"Yes. A... Wonderland bullshit event of some sort. Did you know that I spent... I don't know how many hours, wandering around in the bedroom of one of my former skeleton guards earlier this morning? This was far easier to navigate, you know. I had to dodge walls of bones in his room. This bar is far friendlier." He nods to the woman behind the bar.

And there it was, that weird old feeling of quasi-guilt for making Asgore swear. His final question does make him laugh.

"That's the first time anyone's called the Trip Trap 'friendly'".

The woman snorts, going about her business. Gren's smile fades, as he sees her.

"...None of this is real, is it?"

"It's real enough," responds Asgore. "As real as it ever is, here. I am a monster made out of magic and dust. You are a monster made from flesh and blood, yet here we both are. I was killed once during an event by an ice giant -- massive icicles right through my chest. I died just as surely as if it had happened outside of any one of these events."

That's depressing. This ins't the real Trip Trap though, he knows that now. Lily's here. Alive and breathing and okay. Woody's here too, not exiled, not hated. Everything is how it was before everything turned to shit.

"...We should get outta here all the same."

He doesn't like being TOYED with. Fuck you, Wonderland.

+ Your Princess Is in another...Palace +

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