pull the lever, kronk! (
coleader) wrote in
entrancelogs2015-11-23 10:45 am
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open | in peace, may you leave this shore.
Who: Clarke Griffin and your lovely self.
Where: Here, there, everywhere.
When: November 24th
Rating: PG, probably.
Summary: Clarke falls down the rabbit hole.
The Story:
MORNING » BEACH
AFTERNOON » MANSION
EVENING » FOREST
Where: Here, there, everywhere.
When: November 24th
Rating: PG, probably.
Summary: Clarke falls down the rabbit hole.
The Story:
MORNING » BEACH
[ Clarke's first thought is the same one that has been running through her mind since she stumbled back to camp, bloody and covered in mud. Bellamy is alive. Octavia is alive. Raven is alive. She replays the thought over and over, but it never loses novelty. Clarke is no less relieved the hundredth time she thinks it than she was the first; she will never stop feeling so, she suspects, and every breath of hers will undoubtedly turn into a sigh of relief.
Clarke's second thought is— sand.
There wasn't sand on the Ark, the spaceship she lived on until she was nearly eighteen, and there certainly hadn't been any sand out in the woods the dropship to Earth had crashed into. Sometimes, Clarke thinks that she's experienced all she's ever going to — she has already seen so much more than she ever imagined, and it seems like testing fate to wish for more — but this, this is a fresh experience, sullied only by her confusion at how she stumbled upon a beach of all places. ]
Oh my god. [ The murmur slips out of her mouth, unexpected, before she can stop it. Clarke kneels down, pants already getting dirty, and takes a handful of sand, watching curiously as it runs through her fingers. She's read of it before, but no description in a book could have given her the vividness of experience that this does.
In fact, she might be gaping a little bit. ]
AFTERNOON » MANSION
[ Clarke is nothing if not inquisitive, even if she suspects those inquiries will lead her nowhere good. This feels too much like being kept in Mount Weather — there has to be a dark secret behind it all.
Carefully, slowly, she wanders the halls, eyes scanning the rooms for anything that could offer her information. To the outside observer, however, she looks a bit... worse for wear. She's certainly lacking the mud caked on her face, and much of the blood has been wiped away by her mother, but the only thing that can rid her of these scars is time.
There's a young, disoriented woman covered in cuts aimlessly wandering the mansion. ]
EVENING » FOREST
[ She doesn't trust a thing.
Clarke has been burned too many times by promises of warmth, food, and shelter. Although many seem to live within the mansion walls, even that is not a guarantee of safety. She eschews all reason, giving into her gut feeling of suspicion, and sets up camp outside the mansion. Still, she's careful not to stray too far, as she knows what things can lurk in the dark of the woods.
She lights a campfire, the smoke rising and billowing from the twigs. It's a well made fire, all things considered, and it's clear that this isn't her first time sleeping in the woods and it won't be the last.
There is one thing, however, she didn't account for.
Her stomach growls incessantly, protesting her resistance to eating or drinking anything offered at the mansion. She had managed to gather materials to fashion a slingshot from the mansion, if nothing else, and so she does; Clarke creeps along the edges, poised to shoot a stone at any small creature that happens by. (It isn't sophisticated, but it's all she has.) Unfortunately, she runs into someone else instead, her stone only nearly missing them. ]
I'm so sorry, I thought— [ It doesn't really matter what she thought, come to think of it. "I thought you were a squirrel" is no excuse. Her anxiety had made her trigger-happy. ] Are you hurt? I can help you, if you are.
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At least, it wouldn't here. ]
Got it in one.
[ She visibly relaxes, untensing in the presence of a child. Clarke knows all too well that children can be just as lethal as adults when they want to be, but they're also more innocent than adults. Naive, sometimes, but mostly untarnished by the rough experiences that will doubtlessly come in the future. ]
I was setting up camp. The better question is what are you doing out here?
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Are you... planning on living out here?
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You could say that.
[ It's not exactly a home, more a place for sleeping and nothing more. Clarke has no reservations about being in the mansion during the day, when she's prepared and alert; it's only when she's unconscious that she worries about what will happen. ]
Unless there's a monster prowling the woods you think I should know about, [ she jokes, although she's beginning to think it's perfectly conceivable for the Big Bad Wolf to make his home here. ]
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[He shrugs, looking at her seriously.]
Why? I mean, I like the woods too, but I also like having toilets.
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I'm pretty used to going without bathrooms, by now.
[ It's just such a silly thing to mention, toilets. Security, safety, comfort, warmth — those are the things she cherishes most in a home or, in this case, sleeping space. Toilets aren't particularly high on the list, these days. Maybe they would have been a year ago, when she could still afford to care about things like clean clothes and brushed hair and good food. Now it's a blessing to have food at all.
The fact that the mansion offers food doesn't go unnoticed, and it just seems far too easy. After going hungry so many nights, she struggles to trust food she spent no effort to find. ]
Coming back to life, though, that's something I'd like to hear more about.
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[Still, he's a big fan of the not dying in the first place plan.]
Are you also used to throwing rocks at things to get food? Cause there is definitely an easier way than that.
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[ Guns, mostly, or knives if she could manage to get close enough to whatever beast she wanted to fell. She hadn't enjoyed it, still doesn't, but she understands that, in this world, it truly is kill or be killed. Survive or die. There are no other options. ]
And, you know, it wasn't throwing — it was launching.
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[ She only throws the yet in simply for his benefit; Clarke has no interest debating whether she should or will trust the mansion, and she only wishes to express her current distrust. Nothing more. ]
In my experience, that much... hospitality has a catch. I don't know if that's true or not here, but I'm more comfortable out here for the night than I would be in there, trying to figure it out.
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Every few week there's... a thing. Usually from someone's world. Might be some kind of creature attack, like zombies, might be you think you're an entirely different person for a few days. And it takes your memories. Really slowly, sure, but it still happens. Plus, you're never gonna get any older, so that can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on who you are.
[He shrugs.] Of course, you get the catch whether or not you take the hospitality. Everything here is part of the same system. If there's a way to avoid it, I haven't found it.
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[ Her voice is flat, deadpan; she's amused by the thought, but at the same time, horrified. She lets out a slow, exasperated sigh. ]
Great.
[ Clarke is quickly catching onto the notion that everything that isn't real suddenly is — it's Wonderland, for crying out loud, as in Alice in. She may have grown up on a floating box in space, but even Clarke is familiar with the classics. She's less familiar with zombies, of course, but that doesn't mean she's never heard of them. Many zombie movies didn't withstand the test of time to become culturally important, but they still had a few on the Ark, anyway. ]
What was the last— thing?
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[Dipper died. It was awful. But so was the most recent one. He glances away.]
It was... [He frowns.] Hard to describe. I guess it was an alternate universe? Like if I had made a different choice at some point what would have happened.
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[ She raises her eyebrows, interest piqued. It isn't necessarily that she believes in parallel universes, but she doesn't believe in zombies either. Or Wonderland. ]
Have you heard of the many-worlds interpretation?
[ Part of her doubts so; he's only a kid, after all. The other part of her sees that he's a rather bright kid. Even if he hasn't heard of it, they may be able to have a discussion yet. ]
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[A beat.]
But I had read about it before I got here too. I like science fiction.
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I read a lot more medical textbooks than I did sci-fi, but I do know about the theory. You believe it, then. That this isn't— some collective hallucination?
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[He smirks slightly, though he's only partly joking. Mabel's imagination is way weirder than anything this place could throw at them.]
Besides, this isn't nearly the weirdest thing that's happened to me all summer. [A beat.] Though I'll admit, it probably makes the top ten.
[His life is dangerously close to science fiction too, lately. Or fantasy. Depends on the day.]
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It should immediately make sense for people to have siblings here; not everyone comes from a place like the Ark, with its rations and rules, where siblings were unheard of until they discovered a girl whose mother and brother hid under the floorboards during inspections. It's so ingrained in her mind, however, that she has to pause and think about it. ]
Oh. Right, sorry, siblings aren't exactly common where I come from. That's nice, though, that you have your sister with you. How old is she?
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[Mabel drives him crazy sometimes, but he can't imagine a world without her. He's always been a twin.]
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Well, they're illegal, for one.
[ She finds it difficult not to sound condescending; everyone knows that where she's from. It's still bizarre to think that isn't commonplace elsewhere. ]
There aren't enough resources to care for two children in one family.
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...what do they do with twins?
[Dipper is five minutes younger than his sister oh god would they have killed him.]
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[ That's a good question. An uncomfortable one, but still, good. She doesn't wish to scare a kid, though, so she quickly adds: ] Maybe they've made a way to lessen the amount of twins conceived.
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[Dipper can't imagine not being a twin. Not that it matters, since he's not in her world.]
So lacking resources. And presumably not getting any new resources since that would actively decrease the population. I mean, every generation would be halved. Where are you?
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[ She's very matter-of-fact about it, tone nearing bitter; space sounds good — must have sounded good to the people of 2052 — until the Council starts actively looking for ways to decrease the population. Like executing every criminal. ]
We're on the ground now, but I lived on a space station until I was almost eighteen.
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...I mean, maybe not so much if you're running out of supplies and trying to cut down the population.