Natasha Romanoff (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
widows_kiss) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2014-04-21 06:51 pm
widows_kiss) wrote in entrancelogs2014-04-21 06:51 pm
[OPEN] Ready or Not...
Who: Natasha & whichever unlucky souls stumble across her!
Where: the kitchen
When: evening of 4/21
Rating: PG-13ish? There might be cursing but hopefully no violence. Probably. Maybe? >.>
Summary: Hello, Wonderland! There's a spy rooting through your drawers. Wait, that didn't come out right...
The Story:
Natasha knows something is off before she even opens her eyes.
She's slumped over a solid surface, her head cushioned on her arms, toes just barely reaching the floor beneath the stool or whatever it is she's perched on. She goes from the unawareness of sleep - or unconsciousness? - to high alert in the span of a heartbeat, although visibly she doesn't so much as twitch. Her breathing remains calm and even as though she were still deeply asleep, but she's already cataloging what her senses can tell her without the aid of her eyes.
This is not her sofa, where she's fairly certain she'd drifted off a short while earlier. Her thoughts are clear, not clouded or foggy, no telltale traces of a foreign agent responsible for missing time and changed locations. She's unhurt except for the lingering ache of still-healing injuries and as far as she can tell there's nothing restraining her. It's quiet - no hint of anyone else around, although she waits almost a minute to be sure before letting her eyes slide open.
The kitchen's unfamiliar. Large, well-equipped, tall windows letting in the warm rays of a setting sun. There's a bowl of fruit at the other end of the counter, simple and unassuming. Nothing is familiar and nothing stands out as obviously out of place, other than her. It's just a kitchen. One she's got no idea how she arrived in, but at least she's apparently been given the freedom to look around.
Natasha slides off the stool to prowl around the room, checking the windows first but there's no one in sight, just an ornate stretch of gardens outside. Her second task is rooting through the kitchen drawers in search of a knife or anything else she can use as a weapon.
She's not sure why she's here, if she's in danger or not, but she likes to be prepared for anything, just in case. And call it paranoia but waking up somewhere strange and unfamiliar - no matter how pleasant - rarely results in anything good.
On second thought, maybe she'll borrow a few knives...
Where: the kitchen
When: evening of 4/21
Rating: PG-13ish? There might be cursing but hopefully no violence. Probably. Maybe? >.>
Summary: Hello, Wonderland! There's a spy rooting through your drawers. Wait, that didn't come out right...
The Story:
Natasha knows something is off before she even opens her eyes.
She's slumped over a solid surface, her head cushioned on her arms, toes just barely reaching the floor beneath the stool or whatever it is she's perched on. She goes from the unawareness of sleep - or unconsciousness? - to high alert in the span of a heartbeat, although visibly she doesn't so much as twitch. Her breathing remains calm and even as though she were still deeply asleep, but she's already cataloging what her senses can tell her without the aid of her eyes.
This is not her sofa, where she's fairly certain she'd drifted off a short while earlier. Her thoughts are clear, not clouded or foggy, no telltale traces of a foreign agent responsible for missing time and changed locations. She's unhurt except for the lingering ache of still-healing injuries and as far as she can tell there's nothing restraining her. It's quiet - no hint of anyone else around, although she waits almost a minute to be sure before letting her eyes slide open.
The kitchen's unfamiliar. Large, well-equipped, tall windows letting in the warm rays of a setting sun. There's a bowl of fruit at the other end of the counter, simple and unassuming. Nothing is familiar and nothing stands out as obviously out of place, other than her. It's just a kitchen. One she's got no idea how she arrived in, but at least she's apparently been given the freedom to look around.
Natasha slides off the stool to prowl around the room, checking the windows first but there's no one in sight, just an ornate stretch of gardens outside. Her second task is rooting through the kitchen drawers in search of a knife or anything else she can use as a weapon.
She's not sure why she's here, if she's in danger or not, but she likes to be prepared for anything, just in case. And call it paranoia but waking up somewhere strange and unfamiliar - no matter how pleasant - rarely results in anything good.
On second thought, maybe she'll borrow a few knives...
no subject
The fridge has blessed Souji with a bottle of soda, which he pours into his very strange glass. As he waits for the fizz to go down, he gestures at the cabinets.
"If you think of what you want, you can get it in here. Usually." He takes a swallow of his drink. "The closets around the Mansion do the same thing, except with more than just food and dishes."
no subject
"You can... what. Wish things into being?" Natasha eyes the cabinets with a skeptical look.
no subject
He still isn't sure what exactly he's lost and he frowns into his drink thinking about that.
"But yeah, we are trapped. Or at least, no one's ever figured out how to leave." He nods at her last question and then again toward the cabinets, urging her to give it a try. "Since we don't want to be here in the first place, I guess the place is trying to keep us as happy as it can. Or something."
no subject
She forgoes the cabinets and heads to the fridge instead. She'd seen him pull out his bottle of soda and forgoes the glass, thinking very hard about what she wanted before opening the fridge door. She'd been specific and apparently whatever ran this place was feeling generous. Or, at the very least, indulgent. She pulled out the bottle of iced tea, the brand being one she could only find at the little corner market around the block from her apartment.
"Well. That is strangely useful."
no subject
"Kind of. One of the things I lost--I can still picture it, but I have no idea what it's called."
This leads them to another important topic, though. "The memory loss always comes with an event. That's what we call them, anyway. I think they're also called crashes, but I'm not completely sure why."
no subject
"What's an event?"
no subject
He pauses to take a drink of soda and then continues. "But it happens pretty regularly. Every few weeks, usually."
no subject
What a chilling thought, she didn't have many that were safe enough for that. And she didn't particularly enjoy sharing.
"Sounds... unpleasant. But thank you for the warning."
no subject
He moves to the sink to wash the glass, even though the Mansion would take care of it if he were to just leave it sitting around. As he's reaching for a cloth to dry it on, it occurs to him that he hasn't actually introduced himself and he looks over at her.
"I'm Souji, by the way."
no subject
She leans her hip against the counter and takes another sip of her tea. "Souji," she echoes, making note of it. "A pleasure. I'm Natasha."
no subject
"I've been here about three years. If you have other questions, I'll do my best to answer them."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Although I'm currently standing in Wonderland. I can admit there's a lot I don't know about," she added, waving a hand in the air in amused exasperation.
no subject
no subject
She straightens then, still clasping her bottle of tea. "Well, Souji, thank you for the information. No offense, but there's still a lot I'd prefer to see firsthand. If I come up with more questions though, I'll look you up?"
no subject
"Yeah. I don't think I'm going anywhere, so I should be easy to find."
no subject
no subject