entrancelogs | Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore

Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore | OPEN

Who: E V E R Y O N E (Including our 4th wall guests!)
Where: Everywhere, one both Mirror and Real Side!
When: December 12th - December 18th (WEEK ONE)
Rating: PG-13, warn if going higher
Summary: This year's Ewaymas celebration rolls out the way it usually does, with intense decorating, a sudden snowfall and...far more arrivals than usual! New faces and old fill the mansion - but why would Wonderland bring so many people at once? And why do some of them remember Wonderland?
The Story:

On the evening before December 12th, the captives of Wonderland might be awoken by a loud commotion. Some of it is typical Ewaymas noise, likely familiar to anyone who has been in Wonderland for more than a year – construction sounds and jingle bells as Wonderland decks its own halls quite literally. Garland and lights race down the walls and down the stairs, and stockings appear on the walls for each and every person in Wonderland, embroidered with their names. There are decorative candles everywhere, and all sorts of decorations for every conceivable winter holiday, even if it does not align perfectly to the dates of Ewaymas. Time isn't real, so there will be menorahs and dreidels and Star of Davids even though Hanukkah ended two days prior. And of course, in the front hall, growing straight out of the floor, is a large decorated tree full of ornaments for everyone. And as always, it will have snowed heavily overnight, bringing all of the snow Wonderland will have between now and spring.

There is a second source of commotion in the night though – the sound of a crowd.

Over the course of the night, dozens of new arrivals will appear in Wonderland. Some for the first time. Some wondering how they managed to return with their memories. Others stumbling in with no recollection of ever having been here. Some might be friends from other timelines, other possibilities, and some might even be doubles of people who are already in Wonderland. It's strange for Wonderland to drag so many people into the mansion at once, but everything seems to indicate that they are supposed to be there. They have their own network devices and even have their own stockings on the wall and their own ornaments on the tree – by all accounts, it seems Wonderland expects that they'll be staying, and is treating them like any other new arrivals. Please, make them feel at home and help them settle in nicely.

The first few days will be for catching up with old friends and enjoying the decorations and settling into Wonderland. However, within a couple of days the decorations will start to glitch, much the way corrupted computer graphics might. Lights might change abruptly from multi-color to blue or white, entire décor styles will abruptly change, candle flames will flicker on and off like broken fluorescent lights, and any singing decorations might loop on a beat or two over and over putting you into an eternal hell. Wonderland doesn't seem to be able to stick to one motif, and it can't stop changing. These glitches are occurring on both the Real Side of Wonderland and the Mirror Side.

By the 15th, these glitches will include entire rooms changing into different holiday scenes. These scenes will all be of characters at various winter holidays in the past, the present (in their world), or a possible future. At this point in the event, characters will still be able to navigate the basic mansion and be able to exit these moments easily. These scenes cannot be interacted with – Wonderland seems to consider them another form of decorating. Unlike previous events of this type, these scenes will not loop at first. They will play once, and then Wonderland will glitch and correct itself to be the room it is supposed to be. The scene might play again, but it will be in a different location if it does.

By this point, Wonderland is having an increasingly difficult time holding itself together in a way that makes geographical sense. You might exit one room, even a room that was not previously playing a scene, and find yourself in the kitchen or on the roof instead of in the hallway. You might open a door that you were sure led to your room only to see a ten foot drop to the grounds outside.

This is the mingle log for WEEK ONE! For more information on this part of the event or any questions, please head over to the plot post, or check out our Fourth Wall Master Post for your other Fourth Wall event needs! Prose or [action brackets] are welcome. Please clearly indicate whether your character is on the Real Side or Mirror Side in your top levels. And of course, have fun! ♥

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jean stops so suddenly that Marco bumps into him, but that's okay; it just gives Marco a chance to grab him with the other hand and press in close against him, suddenly trembling like a leaf and wanting--needing--to as close to Jean as he can.

He has to tell him. He has to warn him, even if that means thinking about the darkest thing, and Marco doesn't even notice how Jean's voice changes, implying that he already knows what Marco is going to say.

"In Trost... on the rooftops..." Marco is shaking so hard he can barely keep his balance, and he clings to Jean to keep from falling, looking beseechingly at his face. "I... I heard them, I heard them talking, a-and they... Bertolt and... and Reiner... they said they were titans and..."

His voice cracks, and Marco gives in, burying his face in Jean's shoulder. "I t-tried to get away, but he... the big one... he hit me from above and knocked me onto a roof... broke my shoulder... and th-then he held my arms back a-and..."

Well. And Jean saw the end results of what happened, didn't he? They took Marco's gear and left him on that roof to die, and he did die, and now he's alive again somehow and he needs to warn Jean.

"Don't trust them!" Marco lifts his head again, his face almost within kissing distance of Jean's, but the tears and snot running down his face make this anything but a kissing moment. "Especially R-Reiner! He's their leader, he's the one th-that... that m-made Annie..."

"No, no," Jean shook his head as soon as Marco began to describe how he died. He drew him in close, and lifted his hand to guide his face to bury into his shoulder. He couldn't bear to see him cry anymore. Jean was the one that discovered his body, and in that moment he already knew how much he had to have suffered. "Don't talk about it. You don't have to tell me..."

The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood up straight as Marco recounted what he feared to have happened. Those three were the cause-- and of all the shit they'd done, all the hundreds of thousands of people they killed, none of it mattered as much to Jean as this one thing. The one person he thought he'd lost in carelessness had actually been taken away from him. He'd been robbed, and he'd been blaming himself for it this whole time.

Rage coursed through his veins. But he couldn't vent it now. Marco, for whatever small amount of time he might have here, didn't deserve it. Maybe in a week's time, he'd go and make his first visit to the Destruction Room and break everything in sight. For now, he had to smother the fire as best he could.

"We know," he answered Marco, his voice strained. "We've known for a long time. We captured Annie and Bertholt is dead. Reiner got away. But he's far, far from the Walls. now. You don't have to worry."

Marco folds himself into Jean's arms, shaking so hard it feels like he's going to shake himself apart, and the warmth and solidity of Jean is what he needs right now. Jean's very alive, very present in a way Marco wishes he could be, and he wonders if this is what it's like to be a ghost.

With Jean's acknowledgment, Marco drops his face to his shoulder again, nodding against it and probably smearing tears and snot all over Jean's sweater. The fact that he knows is a startling revelation, but the the news that Bertolt is dead is even more shocking. Even now, after all that's happened, the idea of Bertolt being dead sends a stab of pain through Marco's chest. Bertolt had been his friend, and while he hadn't helped Marco on the rooftops, he hadn't exactly participated either. The thought of him doesn't send fear coursing through Marco, like the thought of Annie or, even worse, Reiner.

"What... what happened?"

"It's...complicated," Jean replied. He didn't move a muscle, and kept Marco tucked into his shoulder. "Annie, Reiner and Bertholt, they're from a place outside of the Walls. We're not the only people alive. There are cities and countries and powers all outside the Walls that we've never known about, and they were all from one of them. They were sent to try and capture Eren, and they were willing to kill us all in the process."

"Reiner and Berholt were the Armored and Colossal Titans. Annie was one too, but not one you know about."

Marco shakes his head again. This is beyond his current ability to comprehend, although he'll be curious later. For now, though, it's just one shock layered on top of another, and he's reaching his capacity for horror.

"Can we... go back to wherever you're staying now?" He just really needs a shower and a change of clothes, okay? Maybe once he's not still clammy with titan spit, he'll be able to focus better.

"Yeah," Jean nodded, gave Marco a pat on the back of his head, and waited for a moment for Marco to get his bearings back before leading him on, up a flight of stairs and down a plush hallways before they came to his room.

Inside, things are different from the rest of the Mansion. Instead of being velvety and luxurious, Jean's room is actually rather similar to one might find in a city in Wall Rose. Except... There are things scattered around that definitely wouldn't belong in such a home too.

In one corner is a moderately large flat screen TV connected to a gaming system on the floor in front of it. There's also a ceiling fan / light combo, and a digital clock on his bedside table. A nearby desk is piled with sketchbooks, loose paper, and art supplies that no middle class family would ever be able to get their hands on.

"The bathroom's over here," Jean gave Marco a light tug in the right direction. "You'll like the shower. It stays hot forever."

That seemed like a rather mundane thing to say, but Jean had found that a hot shower was one of the great neutralizers in this world. Stand in there long enough, and you get this stupifying feeling, like nothing really matters anymore.

Marco is quiet and complacent as Jean leads him down the long hallways, looking from side to side and taking in his surroundings. He'd normally be asking more questions, but right now he's just trying to absorb everything and make some sense of it.

Jean's room gets a few interested glances, but not as many as one might expect. The thing that makes Marco sag with relief, that makes him lean against Jean and sigh, is the smell. There are new smells mixed in, things he can't place, but the room smells like Jean. Paper, and graphite, and a smell that is uniquely Jean's own, and it's all familiar, familiar enough that it almost brings tears to Marco's eyes all over again.

Thank the gods Jean is here. If he wasn't, Marco thinks he would have lost his mind.

Marco turns to Jean, wide-eyed, when he mentions the shower. "I can't use all your hot water!"

When Jean says forever, Marco assumes he means two, maybe three minutes. That would be forever back home, and a luxury violently craved and fought over.

Jean used to have a roommate, who was the one that introduced him to the television and the video games, but aside from that, it was clear that Jean still preferred a simpler lifestyle. He wasn't against conveniences, and had now gotten used to a modern diet that he wouldn't want to change, but he still found the most pleasure in things like sketching and horseback riding. It had already been bred into him.

"No, I mean it. It lasts forever." Jean replied, and for the first time since he found Marco, his lips twitched into something kind of like a smile. "I can stand in there and totally lose track of time, and it never goes cold."

There had been times when the Mansion had been particularly rough during an event or something, where Jean returned to his shower and stood in there for an hour without realizing it. It was like his lizard brain had activated and he was willing to shove his face in the spray until he drowned.

"It... really?" Marco is still highly skeptical, but Jean has no reason to lie, and that hint of a smile does more for Marco than he could have imagined. It's normal--sweetly, perfectly normal--and for the first time since he woke up, Marco doesn't feel haunted.

At least, he doesn't until he glances down at himself, and his shredded uniform. He reaches up and plucks at the chest, where the threads are unraveling, ripped away. "Can you... get rid of this?"

He never wants to see it again. Jean's clothes should fit him; they'll be tight across the chest and shoulders, but Marco will make do.

"Just throw them where-ever when you take them off, I'll get rid of them."

The closets here thankfully worked both ways. You could get whatever you wanted (to an extent) out of them, and you could pitch anything into them and have it lost to the void forever. Jean would have happily burned the remainders of his uniform, but, well, it was cold outside.

"I'll get you some clothes too. Something to sleep in."

Jean still wasn't the most socially apt-- there were some things even time couldn't mend-- but he could tell that Marco didn't have any desire to explore the Mansion anytime soon.

Please don't try and burn his uniform, Jean... it will just remind Marco of what must have happened to his body, and bring on a fresh batch of existential horror. Simply throwing it into the void will be fine.

"Thank you." Yes, there is no way Marco is going exploring. He's going to clean off--and probably be fascinated by whatever products Jean has in this shower with endless hot water--and get dressed, and then he's going to plop right down on that couch and probably cling to Jean like a child with a teddy bear. Hopefully that sounds like a fun evening? Emotional Crisis and Chill?

Marco takes a tentative step towards the bathroom--the lights are brighter than he's used to, but the facilities are close enough to what he knows to not frighten him--but then stops, looking over his shoulder at Jean. "You'll still be here when I get out?"

Not that he thinks Jean would abandon him! He just needs the extra reassurance right now.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jean reassured him, and sat down on said couch to prove it. He even put his feet up on it. The stars could start falling outside and he still wouldn't leave Marco. There wasn't anything more important than being here right now.

"Okay." Short of dragging Jean into the shower with him, there isn't much more reassurance Marco can get. He watches as Jean settles in, then retreats into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

He drops his tattered uniform to the floor, and spends a few minutes examining himself in the shockingly large mirror. He looks the same, if a little drawn out and tense around the eyes. He doesn't look like someone who has died and been brought back in some crazy place full of lights and warmth and endless hot water. He just looks like Marco Bott, from Jinae district, who died at Trost.

With a shake of his head, Marco steps into the shower.

The shower itself is an extremely pleasant surprise; just as Jean said, the water gets tremendously hot, and it stays hot the whole time. Marco stands under the blast and lets the heat soak into his bones, although he doesn't stay for the hours Jean says he could. He still doesn't entirely believe the water would stay hot that long, and he'd rather not get blasted by freezing cold water. He does play with some of the liquids and soaps Jean has, and marvels at their fragrances and how strong they are. The soap gets him so damn clean.

Once he's done, Marco turns off the water and steps out, wrapping himself in one of Jean's fluffy towels. "Jean? Do you have anything I can wear?"

Jean lies back on the couch and relaxes while he listens to Marco take his shower, and kept an ear cocked to be ready to hear any banging or thuds that might indicate a problem. But no, the water simply ran, and Jean had a moment to let his emotions settle down. It would be a total lie to say that he wasn't upset anymore, but his blood didn't feel as hot as it did either.

"Just a second," he answered, and got up to open the closet. It gave him some clothes that were more or less analogous to what they would have worn back home in the barracks, but were probably less itchy and better tailored to someone Marco's size. He passed them into the bathroom without looking in.

Marco wouldn't admit it out loud, but hearing Jean's voice answer him is an immeasurable relief, as are the clothes Jean passes to him. They're not the clothes Marco remembers, but they're close enough: a pair of tan pants that fit better than the ones he used to wear in the evenings, and a green sweater that doesn't rasp against his skin. Marco shrugs into them, and then spends a few moments combing his wet hair, carefully parting it down the center, before venturing back into the living area.

He goes directly to the couch, plopping down next to Jean, sitting perhaps a bit closer than normal but not getting up in Jean's space either, and points at the large, black mirror on the wall across from them. "What's that?"

What's the point of a mirror if it's black?

"It's called a television," Jean answered him without hesitation, because he was ready for a welcome distraction by now. "I don't know exactly how it works, because all the technology and devices here are such fucking contraptions. But basically, it shows moving images with sound. They call it 'video.' Here."

He got up off the couch for a second to turn on the TV. Since there wasn't any kind of service provider here, there weren't any channels, but Jean only used his to play video games anyways. He booted up his console too, so Marco could at least see the start-up screen.

"Then you use this box here to play a game on the screen. It's pretty fun if you feel like sitting on your ass for a couple of hours. I can only handle it for so long before it starts to fry my brain."

Marco watches, interested in spite of himself, as Jean fires up the television. He could use the distraction too, and it seems like this is something Jean enjoys talking about.

The way the screen changes from black to suddenly colorful makes him jump, and Marco gets off the couch to get closer to it and investigate. "Can I touch it?"

He lifts one hand tentatively, but won't touch unless he gets confirmation that he can. He'd hate to break Jean's toy, after all.

"Yeah. It's only about as breakable as any piece of glass would be." Jean answered, since he assumed that the screen was glass. It might be plastic, or something else. He didn't know. "You might get a little shock from the static though. You know, like when your clothes rub against the sheets in the winter and then you touch the doorknob."

He had been told that happened because of the electricity. He only understood that in a cursory manner as well, but he wasn't about to stick a fork in a socket to put it to the test.

That would probably be a good idea, and one Marco would approve of. No sticking forks in wall sockets, please.

Marco dutifully touches the tv screen, and jumps a little when it shocks him. It wasn't painful, just a tad unexpected, and he waits a moment before touching it again and running his fingers over the glass.

"Can you make the pictures change?" Right now it's all very bright and colorful, but nothing is really moving or happening, and Marco doesn't understand how Jean could sit and watch this for a couple of hours.

"Yeah, that's what the game box is for."

He grabbed the controller that was on the floor next to the console, pressed the button to turn it on, and sat down in his usual Gaming Position, slightly hunched over, his hands dangling down between his knees. Everything hummed to life. The television soon showed the title card for his favorite game-- Monster Island.

You played as an explorer on a big new world where dangerous, giant monsters lived. As part of research, you would hunt and capture the monsters for further study, and made armor and weapons out of their body parts. Jean liked it because the humans never got hurt, and the monsters were obviously that-- Monsters. There was no ambiguity. The hunt even had an aspect of respect for nature. It was thrilling and exciting without besmirching his strong sense of morality.

"I know it looks pretty realistic, but everything on screen is like... Like a piece of art. It's not real at all. Just a game."

Marco glances over his shoulder, and Jean's posture jogs his memory. Jean used to sit that way to study sometimes, and Marco comes back to the couch, settling in beside him and resting one hand on the small of his back.

"You're going to hurt yourself, sitting like that." But okay, if Jean is going to insist, Marco won't question it. He won't move his hand, either... he needs this contact, the very real feeling of Jean under his hand, to make himself feel better and not question the existential horror his life has become.

"So how do you make the art move?"

The contact was fine-- if slightly awkward, but it barely registered to Jean. He scooted over on instinct to stay close as well, and was totally comfortable with their shoulders touching as he played the game.

"You use this thing I've got in my hands here. The buttons correspond to the stuff the character on screen can do. My old roommate could play any game without practicing at all, so there's some kind of sense to it that I don't have a handle on yet... but I've got this one down, so I play it a lot."

Jean ran his character around, and had him swing his giant sword a few times. They were in the safe hubworld, so no monsters would show up here to attack him.

It's only awkward because you're a repressed only child, Jean. Marco Lots-of-Siblings Bott doesn't think this is awkward or weird at all, and he leans right back when Jean leans against him.

He watches with interest at what Jean is doing, trying to figure out what buttons make the character on the screen move, but he can't quite figure it out. He's also a bit at a loss for how Jean manages to not be looking at his hands the whole time.

"Can I try it?" Running around and flailing with a sword makes sense, even if the thought of using that sword makes Marco vaguely ill. What, exactly, is Jean's character supposed to attack with that?

"Sure," Jean passed the controller off to Marco, and put it into his hands correctly, so his left thumb was on the control stick and the right thumb was on the buttons. "You tilt that thing around to move in the direction you push, and each of these buttons do different things. Like the one on the bottom lets you talk to people, and the one on the right swings your sword."

There was the shoulder buttons too, and all the contextual stuff in the menus... but one thing at a time.

"Don't worry about swinging your sword and hitting someone or breaking something. It only works on monsters."

Marco lets Jean position his hands and listens to the explanation, but when he tries it himself, there's a serious disconnect between his brain and his hands. He just can't quite grasp how what he's doing with his thumbs translates to the screen, and ends up running to confused circles and waving his sword around like a moron. Rather than get frustrated, though, the whole thing strikes him as amusing, and for the first time since he woke up here, Marco feels a smile, tiny but genuine, tickling at the corners of his mouth.

"I suck at this." Badly! But his failure at Jean's game is more entertaining to Marco than upsetting.

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does Jean have Katamari Damacy? Marco would love Katamari Damacy

they only have knock-offs here, so something like Wad up the World maybe

Rolling Balls of Sticky