entrancelogs | ( semi-open ) love is a many splendored thing

Entry tags:

( semi-open ) love is a many splendored thing

Who: Everyone who signed up for SHIPPING
Where: All around Wonderland! See below for specific locations.
When: Tuesday, September 9, evening
Rating: PG13 just to be safe, but if anything gets steamy (she hopes it does), I can up the rating.
Summary: Becky sets Wonderlanders up on blind dates. Also, will be image heavy.
The Story:

You receive a letter under your door sometime on the afternoon of Tuesday, September 9. This letter will be addressed to you in fancy script (Becky's best attempt at calligraphy) from a "secret admirer." You might be wondering, but it isn't February! What's with all the romantic nonsense? Well, my good friend, romance can be celebrated on more than just one day out of the year. That day happens to be today. The letter will ask you to meet your secret admirer at 6PM at a designated location. You'd best not be late! A night of romance (and perhaps even intimacy) awaits you! At least, she hopes so...

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[ in true fashion, cora almost doesn't rock up. it's not out of believing the worst, perhaps someone luring her out in a bid to set her alight or even shoot arrows into her chest as if she's a moving target, but more of her not simply liking it. it makes her uncomfortable to have a secret admirer, someone who has gone under her radar when it's usually so sharp. she's a hunter by nature — or it's predator, as she's hunted by those who wish to use her pelt for a nice fur coat — and she's allowed prey she hadn't even known was prey slip right between her paws without even knowing someone had been trying to be grasped by them. she goes out of curiosity, and having nothing better to do. boudica remains in her room, upset as she lays upon her bed, defeated expression on her white as snow face, as she leaves the ninth floor to scout out the location scribbled quite nicely on her letter. ]

[ at least it's not a candlelit dinner. she still remains tense at the sight of the room, quiet and empty, save for the large pool table that immediately captures her eye and interest. without even taking a step to venture inside, she spies no one else in the room. the scents lingering inside of it are ones she doesn't recognise — and perhaps one she does, from an alternate universe. but she makes no move to sniff them out, unravelling the threads to steal a clue as to who it is that had spent so much time plucking roses from the garden to only tear the petals from their stems to litter an otherwise rather nice pool table. ]

[ instead of going full out with her wardrobe, cora simply dons a nice pair of jeans and a tank top and jacket, flats worn rather than her usual boots. she arrives a little early by accident, scouting the room properly as she has a few minutes to spare. the whiskey is foul on her nose, even if she thinks she'll drink it merely to feel it burn her throat if her alleged secret admirer stands her up. even though her curiosity won't be quenched, at least she'll find herself finally enjoying time spent with her own shadow. wrinkling her nose at the rose petals sprinkled on the pool table, she picks up a cue and circles it, content with the idea of playing a game with herself as she waits to find out her date fate. ]

[ This is weird.

A secret love note makes Sam laugh at first, almost out of a genuinely surprised reaction more than anything. He stares at it for a long time after the amusement fades, wondering if this is some kind of secret death trap. He thinks of one, maybe two or three people who would take the opportunity to try and kill him, but none of them would try... well, this. It's pretty inane and whoever sent it clearly doesn't know that Sam's "love life" is more like a "love funeral."

Ouch. He winces as the phrase enters his brain.

Still. He's curious, maybe overly so, and settles on checking it out with the usual resolve and with his gun stuck in the back of his jeans. Sam hasn't really dressed up for his, aside from the usual plaid button-up and denim, considering he thinks it's probably a joke. Dean? Nah, he wouldn't waste the time. Most of the walk over is a mental battle of who would've possibly tried to set him up on a mystery date--

Which is why he freezes in front of the door, expression slipping in one of weary realization. Becky. Right. How could he not have come to that conclusion immediately? He almost turns around, fearing what he might find on the other side of the door, but... well, he could always check it out and run the other way, right? She's usually more forward than this, so... it's almost suspiciously covert.

Heaving a sigh, Sam opens the door, eyes quickly sweeping the room. Drinks, books, pool... not Becky's style. It's... well, it's his style. He shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how to react, before he notices someone else in the room. Sam's on his guard for a split second before he sort-of recognizes her, brow furrowing in question. ]

... Uh.

[ cora can sense him before he even opens the door — that's weird, isn't it? and completely against the rules of blind dating, right? thankfully, cora's never had an interest in properly abiding by rules, nor has she ever truly wanted to go on a date she hadn't chosen for herself — but the man who opens it is merely a stranger, scent and the sound of his own footsteps foreign to her ears and nose. she looks over her shoulder, pool cue still in hand, as her brows raise. ]

[ he doesn't look like a serial killer ... ]

[ he's familiar, if still a stranger — someone she's had minimal contact with, due to her own lack of presence on the network and her own boredom guiding her to taking to the network in her long moments of being unoccupied. but he's not a friend, nor really an acquaintance, which makes this a little more awkward than it has a right to be. and if this is true … ]

[ it still unsettles her to think someone's been watching her without her detecting it. ]

[ she cocks an eyebrow, ] You sent the note? [ she sounds amused. a tall guy in plaid sending a note like that? it doesn't necessarily occur to her it could be a complete set-up to see them make a fool of themselves. she only knows becky from an alternate universe, and while she should be sharper in knowing what shipping is, thanks to her and her rambling explanation, it never really hits her to blame that girl for this entire ordeal. ]

[ He doesn't look like a serial killer, but for all intents and purposes, he is. ]

Note? I-- What? [ No. No, he hadn't sent a note, he'd gotten a note. He doesn't have to question Cora, though, because he can guess; neither of them had had a part in this arrangement. ]

... I think we've been had. [ Sam heaves a sigh, brows knit in complacent frustration. ] Or we were lured here for something.

[ Lured here for a set-up? In the date sense, too, not in the... trap sense. ]

[ she waits for the guy who apparently has all the answers to give her an answer. lured here for something? it already has her hackles risen at the mere notion of being tricked — standing in a room, all too comfortable, is eerily familiar to the way her childhood home had burned down. but she smells no smoke, nor sees any, and finds no fires are being lit while that trusty door of theirs remains permanently shut, regardless of hard she would barrel into it, or even himself, with all that height. ]

We've been lured here for a game of pool and whiskey? [ her eyes narrow. nothing in the room seems really suspect. she hadn't been able to pick up on any strange sounds nor scents — but it's not as though she's about to tell him she's literally sniffed the room out and deemed it to be just a regular, if not extremely extravagant, room. ] It seems innocently strange to me.

Might be. [ Sam takes a sip of the whiskey, heaving a sigh after. ] Depends on who sent the notes.

[ And he has a decent idea, based on this, but... why would Becky try to set him up with someone that wasn't... well, her? ]

Sorry, have we met? I'm Sam. [ He extends a hand with a weary, but warm smile. ]

[ cora looks at his hand for an incredibly brief moment, as if sizing it up for how well a big hand could bite her, before she places hers in his briefly. she doesn't necessarily smile, but she's stopped frowning in confusion. ] Cora. [ it's not nice to meet him, the pleasantly never quite hitting her lips. those sorts of things are sentiments that are hollow, and cora doesn't necessarily like giving people hollow notions anymore. ]

Is this some really soft event of Wonderland? [ usually they're so hard and altering. the mansion still looked like the mansion, even if she's wondering if its become the set of the bachelor for tonight. at least he lacks any roses to give her. ]

Might be. [ Might not. ] Doesn't seem like it's got the usual crazy stuck to it.

[ "Hard and altering" are great ways to describe what usually happens... ]

But... I dunno. They might have something worse planned.

[ cora rolls her eyes, exasperated. it's always something worse. what can be worse than believing you're the sole survivor of a house burning your entire family apart? it's spending six years without knowing your only brother is alive and grieving for you, too. wonderland's just as sick as home, if not a little more in the pleasure it obviously takes in tossing people down the rabbit hole and playing with them as if they're toys. ]

Why don't you think this is something Wonderland would cook up? I get it's not crazy ... [ it's still a little crazy, though, isn't it? ]

Just doesn't seem... like the trademark. I can't put my finger on it.

[ He frowns, glancing back at her. She seems smart, definitely on edge (good, everyone should be, in this place), but he can't explain. ]

Won't know until it takes a turn for the nuttier, right?

[ wonderland has a trademark? right, the nuttier and more tea time involved, the more wonderland it is. she'd glance toward the clock, but she doubts it's tea time just yet. ]

Lets hope it doesn't. [ cora's had enough nutty to last several books detailing her adventures down a rabbit hole or beyond the looking glass before she had even hit the age of eighteen. personally, she's tempted to form her hand into a fist and knock her knuckles against the edge of the pool table. ]

The whiskey any good?

Actually? It's... yeah, not bad.

[ Pretty great, really. He shrugs, taking a hearty sip. Why not, right? Maybe it'll seem less weird on the other side of a glass or two. ]

... Have we met? You sound kinda... familiar.

[ at least the alcohol is normal so far. that's an upside, right? ]

[ but cora takes a moment to think. he's familiar, but not so much in the way some people in wonderland have become to her. she shrugs, ] I talk to a lot of people on the network. [ which, at least, confirms she doesn't recognise him from any face-to-face stumbling-into-you moments in the mansion. that would require her to actually not take to the woods so damn early in the morning and hide out in her room from thereon after. ] We might've. I try and avoid all the newcomers. [ her expression pinches. just in case he happens to be a recent newbie, ] I'm not good at the welcome wagon stuff.

I know the feeling. [ He still doesn't recognize her face, but she seems sensible enough, the type whose message he might reply to. ] I haven't been good about the new people, but I keep a lot of notes. Sort through the network pretty often and keep track of everyone.

[ For himself, anyway. He has notes on most of them. More so on those he's met in person or interacted with more frequently. ]

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( semi-open ) love is a many splendored thing

barry manilow begins to play ...

waggles eyebrows

prepares my love funeral ...

u cannot prepare

but the book said i do!

well fine then. huff

don't you want me baby, don't you want me oh-oh-oh.

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