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entrancelogs2016-01-07 12:07 pm
nascensibility) wrote in entrancelogs2016-01-07 12:07 pm
[OPEN] and you may ask yourself
Who: Evelyn O'Connell & YOU!
Where: The library, halls, kitchen, parlors, outside grounds - any public space.
When: Night/Early morning of January 7
Rating: PG, PG-13 at most
Summary: Evelyn has always had the occasional nightmares, mild hallucinations, and sleepwalking problems ever since she came to the conclusion she was a reincarnated princess, but there's something to be said for locking your door when prone to somnambulism.
The Story:
She never used to dream as much as she does now, vivid and sharp. On more than one occasion before Rick's arrival Evelyn has found herself on her balcony, in the foyer of her rooms, with no memory of how she got there.
Before her death they had been wildly distracting, a reprieve from the night terrors of old but no less concerning: another person in another time, memories seeping into her mind like dark, insidious floodwaters, emotions that did not belong to her. The wrenching pain, happiness, fear of someone else.
They had rationalized it as a past life, as if the explanation itself were a rational one.
With the smoke of torches in her eyes, lotus and honey thick on her tongue, in her hair, she slips from a bed of linen and carved wood - Hathor's image, wide and loving and lush. Lamps burning oil perfumed with blossoms from the Nile's bank, hold steady light in a chamber of swirling heat. In the far distance the sem'ayt play drums and cymbals, ney-pipes accompanying a carnal beat.
Bare feet brushing carpet and chilled wood, dressed in precious little else but a nightgown and absent the source of warmth still under the sheets, Evelyn sways in place for a moment in the bedroom, seeing and not seeing in the wake of so much loss. A new year and new hurt to compartmentalise, to measure, and she feels the pull of the music that isn't there. Her fingertips trail over a sideboard; she leaves the room.
A decoration of scented fat seeps slowly through her wig, melting into the fibers and dripping down her back, following the curve of her spine. She has become less circumspect of late, alone in the wide expanse of halls. A power in her own right as designated by the gods, by Pharaoh-and-Egypt, her father dotes but knows the will of his sloe-eyed daughter, his favored child.
The pipes are louder now, as she moves to the great hall and nods to the attendants to reach for the handles of the entrance, intricate cobras to mimic the form of Wadjet.
With her chin held high, visualising nothing but alabaster and flame, Evelyn turns the knob and pushes the door
Open.
[NOTE: Feel free to literally encounter her anywhere she might get to that isn't locked, and this is including outside, although it'll be cold as a witch's tit because it's still January. She can be startled to wakefulness but will also be incredibly confused!
Please specify preferred location of interaction in tag headers.]
Where: The library, halls, kitchen, parlors, outside grounds - any public space.
When: Night/Early morning of January 7
Rating: PG, PG-13 at most
Summary: Evelyn has always had the occasional nightmares, mild hallucinations, and sleepwalking problems ever since she came to the conclusion she was a reincarnated princess, but there's something to be said for locking your door when prone to somnambulism.
The Story:
She never used to dream as much as she does now, vivid and sharp. On more than one occasion before Rick's arrival Evelyn has found herself on her balcony, in the foyer of her rooms, with no memory of how she got there.
Before her death they had been wildly distracting, a reprieve from the night terrors of old but no less concerning: another person in another time, memories seeping into her mind like dark, insidious floodwaters, emotions that did not belong to her. The wrenching pain, happiness, fear of someone else.
They had rationalized it as a past life, as if the explanation itself were a rational one.
Bare feet brushing carpet and chilled wood, dressed in precious little else but a nightgown and absent the source of warmth still under the sheets, Evelyn sways in place for a moment in the bedroom, seeing and not seeing in the wake of so much loss. A new year and new hurt to compartmentalise, to measure, and she feels the pull of the music that isn't there. Her fingertips trail over a sideboard; she leaves the room.
The pipes are louder now, as she moves to the great hall and nods to the attendants to reach for the handles of the entrance, intricate cobras to mimic the form of Wadjet.
With her chin held high, visualising nothing but alabaster and flame, Evelyn turns the knob and pushes the door
[NOTE: Feel free to literally encounter her anywhere she might get to that isn't locked, and this is including outside, although it'll be cold as a witch's tit because it's still January. She can be startled to wakefulness but will also be incredibly confused!
Please specify preferred location of interaction in tag headers.]
no subject
"What are you doing?" She can't keep the nervousness out of her voice, nor can she keep it at a whisper- it comes out louder than she means it to. The light on Evelyn swings back and forth as Max shakes the phone, trying to catch the woman's attention. Maybe she should have brought some form of self-defense. Like a taser, because that would definitely end well.
Translation is in hover text over the dialogue! :3
Three-thousand years ago.
With no small amount of disdain Nefertiri watches the woman across the room, the one painted in slick metal, in jewels. They lock eyes.
"Lam naraka mundhu muddah."
How did you do that lol
The only thing that keeps her from calmly (sort of) walking away is that this person might be new. She'd had a pretty good welcome herself, with Alex and all the people on the network. Pay it forward. Maybe... one or two more tries.
After all of the zombie talk the previous day, Max realizes that she never actually asked important questions, like "what do they look like" or "how do I deal with one." She checks her bag. Inside is her journal, right, a bit too sentimental to be of use right now. Not her camera either, or all the film and pictures. Oh, look, she has pepper spray- she forgot about that! But she settles for the Alice in Wonderland book instead. Pulling it out of her bag, she... throws it at Evelyn. Gently.
"Hey!" she almost shouts at the same time. In the back of her mind she knows that her uncertainty- her lack of confidence- was how she used to be. A week ago, Chloe had said she was becoming braver. And she was losing sight of that. Chloe would be disappointed. At the same time she throws the book and shouts, she promises herself: if this doesn't work, one more try.
a cool trick using html!!! :D
At the current juncture she has begun to walk with greater purpose toward her target, seeing kohl-lined eyes and a wry smile across the hall, a smugness she would like to wipe off-
"Oh!"
An exclamation of surprise hits her with as much gentleness as the book, which is to say, none whatsoever. Blinking stupidly in the middle of a corridor Evelyn reaches for the shoulder that suffered the brunt of the literary attack, an aggravated red spot forming which will later become a handsome bruise.
"Oh."
Realisation comes slower, and she lifts her gaze to see a terrified girl not far off, gripping her communicator. Evelyn stoops to retrieve the copy of The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland, dusting off the cover.
"I...did you throw this at me?"
no subject
"Sorry!" she blurts out, at once both embarrassed to have actually done that, and also relieved that the person seems to have come to her senses. She lowers the light slightly so as not to blind her. "You were sort of... sleepwalking, I think." That at least is a (slightly) better opening line then, you're not a zombie right?