+ Wanted to get it real home-like... +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: EVERYONE!
Where: EVERYWHERE!
When: ANYT-- Friday, February 20 to Monday, February 23
Rating: An average PG-13? (Consider warning for explicit sexual or violent content in your thread's subject line)
Summary:
For the duration of this event each character will discover that their room has been replaced with one of their own memories, one that they find themselves particularly happy or "at home" in. More information can be found here.

This log is an opportunity for your characters to describe the memory playing in their room, so that other characters might visit, and watch the scene unfold. To help browse the collection better, please include your character's name, and their room number in the subject line (e.g. Seta Souji - 100, 6th floor) of your top-level comment.

Rooms/Comments may be locked to certain people, or be available for all to see & visit. Log participation is completely and entirely voluntary.

Have fun!

Comments

[clairsentient]

[She's not sure how to feel about the fact that they're outside of that happy room of his, since it brings his anxiety back up to the surface again.

She shoves her hands in her pockets, clenching her hands and relaxing them again. No need to move back and amplify his emotions. She tries to let her own curiosity about him overpower his anxiety.]

Nice to meet you, Ned. I wish it were under less incredibly awkward circumstances, but I'm told that's how this place operates.

[wordvomit]

[Gently, in an almost exploratory fashion, Ned's worry is supplanted by genuine intrigue, sand brushed away from a great shell on the shore of a beach, revealing intricate spirals of interest. Curiously enough Zed's hands are stuffed into her own pockets - a mimicry of the Pie Maker's habit? No, she hasn't even seen it yet.

She isn't backing off, either, forcing Ned between his shut door and hard place.]

It has that tendency, [he half-smiles, half-grimaces.] This- um...this drawing...

[Is of a girl that no one in Wonderland has ever seen before.]

...it's nice. Good! Good, I mean...it's good.

[clairsentient]

[A subconscious mimicry, maybe. It's a posture she's learned from John, a way to keep herself guarded while being able to fumble for something that might be useful in a pocket or crease.

Suddenly mindful of his discomfort, she steps back a pace or two while he searches for his words.

She swallows, rubbing her neck. Is it his awkwardness making her like this? She tries to remember that she's more confident than that.]

It just sort of -- happened.

[She pauses.]

Which -- happens. Even before this place, just so we're clear.

[Don't worry about suddenly having the burden of seeing and drawing futures and pasts, Ned.]

[wordvomit]

[The Pie Maker is better guarded than Fort Knox, which says something about the way that the United States Reserve keeps tabs on its gold bullion.]

You...draw stuff that you've never seen before?

[His immediate assumption leaps toward the less practical and less reasonable, which suggests psychic powers, but Wonderland has proved time and time again to be a reservoir of unreasonableness, why stop now?]

That's...I'm sorry, you can- you can come in, I'm being- [Rude?] -uh.

[Gingerly, without touching her, he opens the door to his room.]

[clairsentient]

[She's honestly surprised he's inviting her back into the room where his personal memory is lurking. She'd invite him back to hers, but a man proclaiming to be an angel dressed as a very suspicious male doctor is probably less exciting for other people than it is for her.

Still, when he opens the door to his room she steps carefully inside, glad to be out of the hallway. She keeps her eyes averted from the memory in the room as much as she can, though. No need to be rude.]

Thank you.

And -- people -- events.

[She sucks in a small breath.]

Mostly it just ends up being awkward, in my experience.

[wordvomit]

[Shutting the door behind Zed - strange, to be named after the last letter of the alphabet, but his name is Ned so he can't exactly judge - the Pie Maker sets the drawing on the nearest folding chair and tucks his hands back into his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet.]

That's...an interesting talent,

[he observes carefully, as being the owner of his own particular talent lends itself to a healthy amount of wariness in sharing.]

[clairsentient]

[Maybe it's his internal trepidation that actually helps put her at ease. You recognize your own sort after a while, after all.

She smooths her hands down the front of her sweater, glad at least to see he is taking good care of the drawing.]

Sometimes I think it's a burden. Or I used to.

[wordvomit]

[Ned, who is perfectly aware that his gift is what brought Chuck back to life, also knows that his gift killed Chuck's father, his own mother a second time, a squirrel somewhere, hundreds of insects, three red-breasted woodpeckers, dozens of pigeons, and funeral director Lawrence Schatz.

It's difficult to not think that it's a burden when it keeps him from touching everyone and everything.]

What changed your mind?

[clairsentient]

It's helped me save people from getting violently murdered, or worse.


[Yes, there's totally worse than getting violently murdered...like being enslaved for eternity or something like that.

She rubs the back of her neck. She thinks of all those people that she could've saved in her childhood, if she'd just thought to hone her skills.]

[wordvomit]

[The Pie Maker knows from experience that there are worse things than being violently murdered.

One might wake up in a doctor's lair laboratory after being violently murdered, and have that doctor insist upon inspecting your person. Becoming an experiment is far worse than death, in his exceptionally humble opinion.]

So do you...investigate things, or...or try to prevent them from happening, or both?

[Diverting the subject from himself is a relief - he's not entirely certain how much she could see about him..]

[clairsentient]

I used to just draw them out and have no idea what to do about them.

[It was the cause of more than one nightmare, though. She half-smiles, ducking her head.]

And then I drew a man, and I ran into him in the street. He helped me understand my powers, and -- direct them. To help people.

[She shrugs her shoulders.]

I don't know how much I do to prevent them, but I help the people who can make the bigger differences.

[wordvomit]

[What Ned observes is that this is a very vague, malleable gift, that she does not appear to have taken the same lengths to understand it as he had with his own. His tiny, homesick mind had grasped desperately for answers where he had none and while he knows not where his power comes from, he comprehends its limits and extent.

The Pie Maker supposes that some people either do not have the same drive, or do not possess the means with which to experiment. She doesn't seem to consider it a burden.]

Must be nice. Having a...a mentor.

[He's not bitter. (He is.)

Father figures make his acid reflux flare up.]