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entrancelogs2013-12-15 03:01 am
pig_and_pepper) wrote in entrancelogs2013-12-15 03:01 am
Entry tags:
- bastion: the kid,
- bioshock: elizabeth,
- bioshock: mark meltzer,
- breaking bad: jesse pinkman,
- doctor who: martha jones,
- fullmetal alchemist: greed,
- heroes: peter petrelli,
- penumbra: philip,
- supernatural: adam milligan,
- supernatural: castiel,
- supernatural: crowley,
- supernatural: meg masters,
- teen wolf: derek hale,
- teen wolf: lydia martin,
- the dark knight rises: john blake,
- the lorax: the lorax,
- warehouse 13: h.g. wells,
- welcome to night vale: cecil palmer
The Grand and Splendiferous Ghost Log of 2013
Who: The Ghosts of Years Yet to Come and YOU!
Where: Anywhere. Everywhere.
When: December 15th - December 25th
Rating: G for Ghosts, Proceed With Caution!
Summary:
The Story:
And so it begins.
Throughout the mansion faded images will flicker in and out – ghosts of Wonderland's future. These ghosts can be of anyone, from any point in the next five years. They will play on repeat, as Wonderland's Chess Piece Ghosts have in the past, and they will offer brief glimpses into the future for anyone who witnesses them.
They cannot be stopped, and the images cannot be changed or altered. This isn't to say that the future can't eventually be changed, of course, but there is nothing that anyone can do over the course of this event that will change the contents of these imprints.
Where: Anywhere. Everywhere.
When: December 15th - December 25th
Rating: G for Ghosts, Proceed With Caution!
Summary:
• This log is intended to give everybody a good overview of where in Wonderland which ghosts can be found. It can be used as a reference for other posts, or to thread encounters too short to warrant their own entry.
• To help browsing all ghosts easily, please put [Name of Ghost Character] - [Location of Ghost in Wonderland] into the subject line, so everybody can immediately see who they'll encounter, and where.
•If you have any more questions about the ghosts, or the Christmas event in general, go ahead and post a comment to our Q & A thread!
• In short, STEP 1: Posts with ghosts! STEP 2: ?!?! STEP 3: PROFIT!
The Story:
And so it begins.
Throughout the mansion faded images will flicker in and out – ghosts of Wonderland's future. These ghosts can be of anyone, from any point in the next five years. They will play on repeat, as Wonderland's Chess Piece Ghosts have in the past, and they will offer brief glimpses into the future for anyone who witnesses them.
They cannot be stopped, and the images cannot be changed or altered. This isn't to say that the future can't eventually be changed, of course, but there is nothing that anyone can do over the course of this event that will change the contents of these imprints.
no subject
Of all the people for him to run into while attempting to get as far away from everything as possible... Blake is probably the one he's least prepared for. He knows what's going on now, now that he's left his room and actually, like, talked to people, and so he's well aware that everyone here is just how they'd been five years ago... No matter what's happened to them in his time. ...Not that it's doing him any favours now as far as preparedness goes. His reaction is instantaneous: at the sound of the familiar voice Jesse tenses visibly, hands clenching into fists where they're stuffed into the pocket of his sweatshirt, heartbeat picking up like he's just been given a shot of adrenaline.
Like he's just seen a ghost, and not the ones inside. Part of him wants to run, or tell Blake to fuck off and then bounce because he is not in any way equipped to deal with this kind of thing, but...
Rooted to the spot as his mind races to weigh the pros and cons of staying here and dealing with this or peacing the fuck out to smoke it away, his body seems to be making the choice for him. Just like every other crisis situation, he's still standing there like a jackass by the time Blake makes his way over through the snow. Way to go.]
Um-- I, uh...
[Shit. His voice cracks just a bit and yeah, that's it. That's all you're getting, man, because as of this very second he doesn't trust himself to speak. Or meet Blake's face. Instead, his eyes remain rather firmly trained on the fluffy white snow that's clinging to his legs.]
no subject
No, there's recognition there. And something else, unnamed, but entirely undeniable. It's enough to make Blake nod his head in a direction — any direction — and he even begins walking. It's not exactly kind to take the choice from the boy, but since he seems to have trouble making any choice in the face of John Blake, perhaps having it made for him will help.]
C'mon. Do us some good, I think.
[They wouldn't even have to talk, not necessarily. Blake just wants to be with someone, and he's guessing Jesse might need to be with someone, even if he was reticent to accept Blake's invitation.]
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When Blake heads off, Jesse's feet move all on their own, regardless of that fact that he still hasn't really decided if he wants them to. Actually, every step makes him feel more and more like this is the worst possible idea, like it'd be better for him if he took off and spent however long they're gonna have here just like he'd intended to: blazed out of his mind in his room. He won't have that escape when he gets back there, and so wasting the opportunity to do it seems like, well... A waste.
More than that, though, he's feeling like his feet are leading him straight to a meltdown. If he'd thought he'd been finished grieving back there (spoilers: he wasn't), seeing Blake alive and in the flesh and so-- so him- the way he used to be before everything changed and dragged the entire place down with it- is only serving as a reminder that he's not even close. Those wounds have barely had time to even start to heal, and now here he is picking the friggin' scab right off.
He never was great at the whole self-preservation thing.
And so he follows, falling into step with Blake in silence (for now), because what can he even say...? He compensates for this awkward and uncharacteristic quiet by digging into his pocket and pulling out his lighter and a plastic bag. It contains an array of joints in varying sizes and... smokedness, and he plucks one out without thinking; between that and the slight tremor to his fingers as he moves to light it up, it's pretty clear he's... Not all there, really. His eyes are red-rimmed as he stares ahead, and while the brightness of the crisp white snow hurts... It's better than the alternative. This kind of pain he can deal with.]
no subject
So much has changed. They don't need to talk for him to know Jesse's hurting. Some small part of him wonders if it's his own death that plays a role in what the future's made of his friend, but with so little interaction between them, it's probably not that much of a factor, right? Certainly, the Jabberwocky is to blame for the majority of all the future's problems.
Hey eyes the joint, watches the light of the flame on Jesse's face as he pulls those initial puffs, but there's no judgement.]
Been checkin' out these... ghost images. Some crazy stuff. Not sure what I oughta make of it.
Not sure what to make of any of this.
[It doesn't really require Jesse's input if he's not interested. Blake will just keep talking, voice quiet and somewhat reserved.]
no subject
and influence peopleor... Don't, and spend the rest of your days miserable and alone until you kick it enough times and go native, or whatever it is that happens to people like Annie...Jesse'd chosen the former, obviously... Not that it'd really mattered in the end; Blake's death isn't the only thing he's got working against him, but it's a factor, and it's more than enough to unravel him now. He doesn't quite regret getting close to people- because he's at least self-aware enough to know that there'd never been any other choice for him to make- but he can't help but wonder if things would have been easier if he'd just kept to himself.
His initial response is a quiet hum as he puffs away at his joint while they walk, but after a minute or so (after the drug's had time to do its thing, really), he finds his voice. Still can't quite manage to look up, but hey. It's a start.]
Christmas Carol.
[He's pretty sure about that. What he isn't so sure about is who's playing Scrooge. Is it the people here, so they can stop it? There are quite a few that he knows will take what they hear from their friends and try to do something with it, definitely, so it could be a last ditch effort on Wonderland's part to get itself back in shape... Or it could be for the dubiously lucky few who've been dumped back here to live in Christmas past, enjoy one last season before everything goes completely to shit. Why them? Who knows, 'why' anything with Wonderland is something he'd stopped asking a long time ago. He's really gotta hand it to the place, if we're talking option B- this is reaching new levels of fucked up, one of the sickest jokes yet: Yeah, enjoy what you can, if you can forget about the crushing responsibility of trying to fix things...
He just doesn't know. He's not sure it can be fixed, if that's the point of this, and even if it could... Betting on him never ends well.]
...How many of them have you seen? The ghosts.
no subject
Many as I could find. Lost count, actually. Spent hours searchin' the woods, searchin' the mansion. Feel like— feel like I'm just... missin' somethin'. Like I oughta be there. Like I oughta know what I'm seein', but I don't.
[It's hard to be left behind. Not nearly as hard as the life ahead of all of them, maybe, but John's gotten so used to having a buffer, and now that he doesn't, now that he feels so separated, the severity of the world to come is really beginning to weigh on his heart.
He wants to save them. He wants to save them all. He wants to save Jesse, even this one, if there's anything to be saved.]
Saw a lot. Didn't like most of it.
[There's probably a bit more gravitas to his words than there should be, but maybe the implication's clear.]
no subject
The only thing to come of that had been more questions... And he's never considered himself the thinking type, not when it matters. So boned.
He frowns.]
Yeah, there's not much to like... It's like-- It's like they picked the worst possible shit and just set it up on loop, you know? [...Okay, maybe not all of the worst... He sniffs a bit, swipes the back of his hand across his nose. Friggin' cold...] How, uh-- [He knows it's probably gonna give it away (or at least be shady as hell) to ask this, but he needs to know:] How much did you... See? Or hear, or whatever...
[Again with the whole staring anywhere but Blake thing; he's afraid his face will give everything away, if it hasn't already been dropped on him.]
no subject
He frowns in kind.]
Uh, well. Pretty much everythin'. Went 'round, found it all — what I could, anyway. Bettin' I missed a few things.
[He did not miss Jesse and his lab on the tenth floor, however.]
Hard to know how to take any of it. With you guys havin' lived it all, can't exactly ignore it like it's not ever gonna happen, never happened, an' so on. Has happened. Just not for us.
no subject
Still unsure about whether "pretty much everything" means Blake's aware of his fate, he decides to err on the side of caution and keep his mouth shut, choosing instead to take another hit as he stomps through the snow in silence.
At least until something flickers in the snow up ahead. Faintly, but enough that it clues Jesse in to what's about to happen. This one... He's pretty sure he knows what it is; eyes wide, his skin goes about as white as their surroundings and he makes an abrupt about face, coughing on the lungful of smoke he'd forgotten about releasing. Jesus Christ, he'd come out here to get away from these things...]
Uh, yo. We're, uh-- we're getting kinda far away from the Mansion...
[Turn around. Please.]
no subject
John stops, too, eyeing Jesse and his sudden shiftiness and that hobo beard. God, time hasn't been all that kind, has it?]
What d'you see? What is it, Jesse?
[He knows it's something. It's not nothing, and he's really not all that interested in letting it go. While he wants to keep pressing in on it, he's following Jesse's lead for a second.
And while he's here, he gestures for that joint because caring is sharing and he's had about enough of unhindered reality for a little while.]
no subject
But despite his extracirricular activities back home, he's actually not the best liar ever, and trying to cover up the fact that something's up is pretty much impossible at this point, and so there's no choice but to elaborate. There's also a part of him, very small, that wants Blake to know, that wants to talk about it or to be comforted in some small way. It's stupid, but there you go. Jesse stops, turning in his little snow path in a way that says "you win". And there's no avoiding it now-- he can't help the way his eyes linger on the specter and he watches the entire loop once, twice, finally dragging his gaze to the ground after the third go. He holds it there, and there's an exhausted quality to his voice when he finally speaks. Defeated, maybe, or on the brink of, at the very least.
He gives up.]
It's not the whole thing. There's more to it than that, in like... Five minutes ghost time.
[He looks up at movement of the the give-it-here gesture, giving Blake the tiniest side-eye before handing the joint over easily enough; he can't remember when that sort of thing stopped being weird to him back in the future, but he's a little surprised given the time period he's in now. But whatever, sharing is caring, it's like the druggie creed. ...Or the pothead creed, anyway- anything harder and it becomes "sharing is stealing it out of your buddy's pocket". Oh, nuance...]
no subject
He holds on to that joint for a second, letting it dangle at his side while he uses the small opening to push forward a little more.]
More, as in Jabberwocky? Or somethin' else?
[And now that he's asked, he takes a few small puffs, mindful of the cold and the fact that he hasn't been high in some time. As he holds it in, he offers the joint back to Pinkman and takes that opportunity to look over the boy more critically.
He's gaunt and tired and drawn looking, and that beard? It says just as much as the red eyes and the hundred yard stare.]
Wanna know. [He breathes it out with the smoke. That admission softens the request, right?] Seems important.
no subject
[He reaches for the joint, stubbing it out with fingers cooled and wet from snow or sweat or whatever the hell moisture that lets him do it without burning the shit out of his skin. Replacing it in his pocket, he sighs, glancing again at the spot where the loop's started again with a frown.]
Calvin and Hobbes. That's what you were doing, those crazy little snow guys. [He shivers, crossing his arms to mask the way his shoulders are shaking. It's as much to do with nerves as it is the cold, but he doesn't necessarily wanna broadcast that.
Biting down on his lip slightly, he jerks his head at the ghost.] See how your head kinda starts to turn, right at the end there...?
[Just say it, Jesus Christ. Such a pussy...]
no subject
You're there. An' then, sometimes later, I'm gone.
[He doesn't even need the confirmation from Jesse to know he's right. Her gets it. They'd come out here to play in the snow together, obviously, and while Blake isn't certain about the intent behind it, or the story behind it, he really gets this moment and what it means to him. To them.
Blake's tossed back more than two decades, reminded of the past, back to when his father was still alive.]
Dad an' me — used to be our thing. Every Sunday mornin', sit at the table eatin' cereal, readin' the newspaper. He'd read the stories, I'd read the comics, but we'd always read Calvin and Hobbes together. Save it for last, y'know? Sat on his lap drinkin' the milk from the bowl...
Hadn't— [A beat, a breath. Hadn't thought 'bout that in a long time.
[It's all said fondly enough, trailing off as John smiles down at the snow. Even if it hurts like Hell, even if Blake misses his father every day, it's never been enough to stop him, never been enough to bring him down. Hopefully Jesse understands the sentiment.]
no subject
The story Blake's telling him... He's heard it before. Out here, actually, though maybe not the first time they'd busied themselves making little snow soldiers... But it still makes something twist and tug painfully at his insides; he doesn't have any such memories of his own father, and while he's mostly come to terms with that, it's still a subject he doesn't like to think about too much.
And one he feels a little shitty for bringing up in Blake, even indirectly.]
Kinda... Hard not to. [He looks down at his feet, at the dark stain of wetness that's climbing his legs almost to the knees. Idly he wonders why he didn't grab some boots or something, Jesus...] Sorry.
no subject
Christ, time sure does have its way of making people feel it passing. He doesn't reach out, but he takes in Pinkman for a second longer and gestures them back toward the mansion so that they don't have to stand out in the cold any longer.]
Don't be sorry. Hard not to be, though, I know.
[Blake doesn't know any of the details he should know, at least from his perspective, and that bothers him. He feels oddly responsible for this kid, and seeing what he's become hurts in a way that he doesn't quite understand.]
Sorry I left you. Seems like— [He frowns.] —like a shitty thing to do. Guess I must've lost the ability to pull my head outta my ass somewhere along the line.
no subject
No, no, it's-- We all thought it was the right thing, you know? [Or maybe he doesn't. Too late now, he's just gonna keep on going:] Or like most of us did. It's not like we had a whole lot of other options and we just figured-- Something had to work, right? Nobody thought it'd... You know... [Be such a colossal fuckup? Thin the already pitiful herd? Blow up in their faces so spectacularly??
He trails off helplessly.
They'd just sort of stopped, after that. It was the only plan they'd had and after losing so many people... No more. Jesse can't think of anybody left who wasn't devastated by that loss; it's hard not to become close when you're in a situation like the one they've got back there, after all.]
lol my keyboard went nutso on that subject there...
Still, Pinkman's words seat themselves heavily on his conscience and he can't help but wonder if he's done enough, if he will do enough, if he can do enough...]
Did what you could with the knowledge you had. Made a decision. Gotta respect that, 'cause sittin' 'round doesn't always get you much.
hahahaha mind of its oooown
[And they were right. Just... Not in the way they wanted to be.
Shivering slightly, he lifts his shoulders and moves to cross his arms, hoping to trap in some kind of warmth. The subject matter and the cold wetness combined are seriously sobering, and that's just about the last thing he wants right now. And it sucks, because without the the verbal laxative effect most drugs have on him and the benefit of a pleasantly fuzzy head to pick some dumbass comment out of, he's not sure what else to say. Everything he can think of seems inadequate or stupid. There's no fixing what happened, no defending it...
Yeah, he's at a loss.]
heeee
After a moment, he lets out a long, controlled breath.]
Kinda wish I was the one comin' back. Dunno how Wonderland makes its decisions, but... [Head shaking here, all the head shaking.] Well, whatever. You know how it goes.
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No, you don't. [You don't know what you're asking for here, Blake. He's self aware enough to know that he's not the best candidate for this to have fallen on, but he's under no illusions that it's a hell of a lot easier for anybody else. The responsibility isn't something he'd wish on anyone, especially not Blake; he personally thinks it's all pretty hopeless (which helps, in that defeatist sort of way), but he knows for a fact someone like Blake would try and try and try anyway...
And then blame himself when it all went to shit regardless.
Eventually he realizes that he's been quiet for a good long while, and lets out a long breath as he shoves his hands into his pockets and squints at the Mansion.] Anyway... I don't think it had a choice.
no subject
[He's not saying it would solve everything, but it would be nice if they had some options against getting the shaft every time. Blake, of course, keeps the majority of his thoughts to himself, but he can't help being a little angry at the world they're forced to live in (some much, much longer than others).
He holds the door and offers a rueful smile.]
Glad for the people, though. Can't ever say I'm not.
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Yeah, the chances of that are, like, slim to not ever gonna happen, man.
[But as to the other thing Blake's said:]
...You're right, though. About the people. They're awesome.
[Hard not to get attached after so long, no matter what kind of distance you might be inclined to keep... Jesse'd been screwed in that regard fairly early on; there'd never been much other choice.]
no subject
He grips Jesse's shoulder with a gentle squeeze and nods at the thought.]
Yeah, they're real awesome, can't argue there. Gotta feelin' I'll always find it hard to regret gettin' close to people here. Been a hell of a ride already.
no subject
Yeah, well... Hang on, yo. Seatbelts and oh shit bars and whatnot.
[There. Words of wisdom. You win, Wonderland. Knowing how well things usually work out for Jesse, there will probably be some kind of blowing-your-hands-off Butterfly Effect shit going on now...
Shoving his hands back into his pockets again, Jesse sighs.] Anyway. I'm gonna go get my magic closet on, they're like-- like the Disneyland of the past tense, or whatever. Gotta hit 'em up while I'm here.
[Yeah that made complete sense. Drugs're bad, mmkay?]
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