entrancelogs | Tavern Mingle (INSIDE)

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Tavern Mingle (INSIDE) | OPEN

Who: EVERYONE
Where: The Dark Lantern Tavern!
When: 1/15/16 -1/18/16 - The duration of the event!
Rating: Probably PG-13, will vary by thread.
Summary: Let's go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions! A log for staying nice and dry inside.
The Story:

For the duration of the event, the mansion has become a dingy tavern. It has two floors, the bottom being the main tavern and the upper floor has six bedrooms with one bed and one magic closet in each room for everyone to fight over, unless they don't mind sleeping on the floor or in the tavern somewhere. With the amount of people in Wonderland, everyone is cramped together and it will be very crowded. The closets will work, however they will only provide clothing and items from time periods long gone (though they do not seem to be bound to any particular time period). There are no employees to be found in the Tavern, but there's a working kitchen with a wood fire stove and enough food and drink for everyone to last the entire event comfortably. There's even a stage with musical instruments to entertain yourselves with! There's no electricity, but plenty of candles and lanterns around.

For the entire length of the event, it will be dark outside. In addition to the never-ending night, it will pour for four days straight, and it will all seem rather ominous once it becomes apparent the sun isn't coming out. Pretty much all signs will suggest that everyone should stay in the tavern and eat, drink, and be merry with their stupid new names. But it really is tight quarters, and some might be curious to see what else is out there. Maybe there's another place to stay out there, or something. Maybe the Beast Alice spoke of is out there.

(Lost? Perhaps you're looking for the outside log or the event information.)

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The Subject would like a few words too. She could have had a cool name, but instead she had to have this pointed almost-insult. She supposes the Puppet feels the same way.

The girl grabs at that offer: "Yes. Perfect. No questions here." Not that she couldn't explain her name away but she'd rather not. "So this is one of the events, right? Seems alright so far."

Boy does he feel that. He could've been the Director, or the Filmmaker, or That Kralie Kid, or literally anything else. Instead he gets saddled with a name that sounds like it came out of the world's worst fairy tale.

He nods, eager to pounce on the change of subject. "My best guess, yeah. Seems right up Wonderland's alley. Though the last few things it threw at us weren't really like this."

He has a camera of his own, though he hasn't gotten the opportunity to use it. Beast-hunting is a priority, but only once he's exhausted all other possible avenues. He doesn't want to take an unnecessary risk.

On the other hand, the Subject wishes she had gotten the Artist or something, because that would have been a huge compliment, but it's probably a bit too much of a long shot.

"Huh." Darn, and she was just hoping it would always be that fun. He's having fun right? Actually, it doesn't seem that much like it. She recognizes the camera though (geek alert!): a Mimimum-Palmos. "Lots of photo-ops for this one. Are you getting anything good?"

Shit, right, she's an art-type too, isn't she. One of the reasons he hasn't displayed quite the same level of animosity he's been hitting everyone else with since ending up in this dump. He glances down at it in surprise, as though having forgotten it was even there in the first place.

"Wh - uh, no. Not really." He shoots a glance at one of the windows, glimpsing the tavern's darkened exterior. "Lighting makes getting any kind of shot hell. All these candles keep messing up the balance."

Which is much easier and less suspicious to say than, for instance, that he's saving up his film for something a little more dangerous.

"Tell me about it," she says. "I'm sure all my shots are terrible. I don't even know how to use this thing." She's smiling though. Still fun. But she'd also have to find a way to develop the film later on.

She's curious though, because she doesn't know anything about his artistic side except that he prefers film. Raising her voice slightly over the noise of the crowd, she asks, "Do you usually shoot indoors?"

"Mm, sometimes." It's sure as hell easier to shoot inside than to sigh and sit on the curb and wait every time a car or a plane or a goddamn helicopter goes by. And that's not accounting for rainy weather, or police getting on your ass because "it's illegal to shoot near abandoned buildings," or some fucknut with a rifle asking you if you're a ghost hunter, or outdoor shoots that get ruined because there's something in the trees futzing up the camera with a spray of static.

He doesn't mention any of it. He simply shrugs, and flicks a bit of dust off the edge of his camera with a fingertip. "I like the look of an outdoor shoot more. Less cramped. More space to do your thing. Like hell I'm shooting out there, though."

Yet.

Wow, that is a lot of frustration going on inside his head. Good thing she can't read minds. The Subject's style of photography is to just shoot whatever, whenever- anything that catches her interest, really. So there's not much frustration involved. Although the Puppet seems a little uptight usually, she doesn't yet realize how involved with photography he actually is- or what he uses it for, for that matter.

"Definitely not. It looks crazy out there. You heard what that kid said, right? About the Beast and getting turned into oil?" Because seriously, what kind of death is that? The Subject doesn't want her last moments to be wandering around lost and afraid, and then being turned into someone else's fuel! Now we know how the dinosaurs felt, she thinks.

"Oh, I heard it." He remembers that weird little gnome kid, the one whose ass he pretty much rescued from getting frozen if he recalls correctly. The pointed red hat works really great as a signifier, and it's not so difficult to pinpoint where he is in the tavern just based on that alone. The Puppet eyes the Pilgrim with obvious distrust. "I'm not really sure I believe it."

Not that he's about to propose, hey, why don't we check this out for sure, because he's already got that plan set well in mind and he intends to do that alone, thanks. The camera's an adequate barrier between himself and the so-called Beast waiting to make them all into fossil fuel or whatever the hell.

For all the mingling that goes on here, he's grateful that no one can tell what specific Beast his apparel has him resembling. "Things like that just like to watch you lose your mind."

That earns him a raised eyebrow. It's starting to get easy to believe things in Wonderland, and why shouldn't he believe the kid? "I don't think he'd lie. He sounded sorta... you know, insecure." she says, though she sounds unsure herself. But more than that... "And you sound like you're talking from experience." Her tone is more probing than anything else.

Buddy you couldn't drag the Subject out there to take pictures of some weird monster if you tried. But if she did know about his plan, she'd definitely alert "the authorities," because she does believe the Pilgrim. Recently she's learning to believe a lot of things.

"I watch a lot of horror movies," he deadpans. "It's never that simple. You know, the grizzled informant at the beginning who tells the dumbass kids not to go into the haunted cabin in the woods? Those are the kind of vibes I'm getting."

It's not the best explanation, especially considering the Pilgrim is as far from a grizzled informant as one could possibly get in terms of appearance and demeanor. But there's more to this story, of that Alex is one-hundred percent certain. He just needs to find proof of it.

And that's where the camera comes in.

When he puts it like that it makes a lot more sense. The Subject avoids horror movies like crazy but, based on her limited experience with B-movies that aren't all that scary, he has a point. "All the more reason I'm staying in here," she says, brushing at her cheek with her fingers. "It usually ends up even worse than the girzzled informant says."

Want to immediately divert the Subject's attention? Talk about movies, books, photography, or old things. Though she does make a mental note to keep an eye on the Puppet, for multiple reasons.

"I just hope whatever's out there doesn't feel like having a drink at the bar tonight."

Edited 2016-01-17 00:50 (UTC)

"The way he was talking, I'm not sure I trust that it won't." He peers out the nearest window, but there's nothing outside but rain and shadows and the odd flicker of lantern-light.

What if he just threw a few lanterns in, found a patch of dry wood, got a nice spark going, and set the whole damn forest ablaze?

That'd take care of any Beast. Unless it was literally the devil, that'd flush the thing out for sure.

His fingers twitch.

What?

No. No. He's not a lunatic. He's not out of his mind. That'd be arson, and what's more, that'd be insane. He's not like that. He doesn't do that.

The Puppet puts the thought aside. "We're stuck here, like it or not. A real sweet set-up for anything hungry out there. And the way the night's going, I'm starting to think we're all meant to be the main course."

"Wait, so you think the..." she lowers her voice. "The kid wants us to stay in here? Like a trick?" Holy crap that is scary. Also a nuts-o conspiracy theory. No way. If that's the sort of trick this Wonderland likes to make, then she can't wait to get home.

Suddenly it feels a little silly to be taking pictures tonight. But she's got to stay hopeful... or something. "I still like my chances in here better. Some of these people seem pretty... intense." There was a guy with sword earlier. And a girl with a Tommy Gun. In any case, there's no way she's going out in that storm. She had popped out for a bit earlier and there was some sort of singing going on. Creepy.

"I guess." When she puts it like that, maybe it's a misguided theory. People are armed here, and in the case that doesn't do anything, they're more likely than not to be heroic types who'll serve well enough as cannon fodder, dramatic brave sacrifices and all that jazz. The Puppet's trains of thought are nothing if not efficient.

Right, fair enough. He shrugs, changing tack. "Just, uh, watch yourself, I guess. You're like one of the two cool people here. I don't want you getting turned into a tree or whatever the hell."

Oh, did he just call her cool? She smiles at the compliment. "No way, I'm sure some people here are way cooler. But you watch out, too. Don't end up as the world's best photogra-fern." Yes, she just said that.

But her expression becomes serious, too. "Seriously. Don't be a hero or anything." There seems to be enough hero types around as it is. And the Puppet is like... one of three actual friends she has here.

He makes a sound halfway between a snort and a groan. Puns, man. Gotta love 'em. But seriously, almost everyone else here is just kind of a dick, even if it makes the Puppet more of a dick for riling them up in the first place.

"Nah, I'm not a hero. I'm more of a witty sidekick-type, I think. Those always make it out alive."

Or the formerly loyal friend who ends up backstabbing everyone else for the sake of self-preservation. Or the well-intentioned arsonist. Or -

And that train of thought is going straight into the trash.

No. No they don't. She doesn't have anything to say to that. She looks down quickly, pretending to fiddle with her camera. In any case, the Subject is definitely not a hero, too.

She really fortunately can't read his mind. Not that she'd want to right now. Slowly, she winds up the Brownie, letting the whir of the camera stand in for conversation, trying to think something to say. She realizes that her sudden mood shift might be too strange, but nothing comes to mind, so she just nods vaguely.

Hopefully the conversation is done. She just wants to head outside for a while.

Well, that's as good a window to fuck off as any. The Puppet has big plans to disregard the Subject's advice and slip outside for a bit, but he needs her to not be here first.

He fakes a yawn (it's nighttime, or near enough to it with the rain and the dark and the storm, right?) and casts a hopeful look toward the stairs up. Maybe one of those rooms might be free for him to ~~plot~~ think in peace. "I'll see you around, then. Whenever this...shitshow ends, I guess."

Hooray for friends who get the hint. "Sure. See you." He might be heading for upstairs, but she'll definitely be heading for the stables, where she can watch the rain and actually find the creepy singing a little soothing. She does wish she had her phone, so she could listen to her own music, though.

With only a vague smile at him, she walks away.

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