wιll graнaм (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
glumshoe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-03-28 05:20 pm
glumshoe) wrote in entrancelogs2016-03-28 05:20 pm
arrival - open
Who: Will Graham & you!
Where: The woods, the library
When: 3/28
Rating: PG
Summary: Wash, rinse, repeat - Wonderland's not done with Will Graham. Meanwhile, Will's catching up with the fact that anything had even begun.
The Story:
open to all
Will's dreams were vivid without any outside help. Often he found himself in one place or another, walking between memories with the sun-baked boat decks of his childhood burning his bare feet, to the deep forest surrounding his adult home, soft cold earth underfoot and bramble cutting up his legs. It wasn't so unbelievable to walk away from Molly's soft breaths beside him and find the wood opening up to rolling green lawns, but the buildings that rose in the distance were not what Will was accustomed to.
Had his mind conjured up something wholly other, a break from the unhappy riptides that kept him in place? Or was it just a polished up Lecter Mansion that waited for its master to cast his shadow over it and Will again?
(Will left him to rot in that place. He hoped Hannibal bled just as surely as Will did, no linoleum knife required.)
His memory was sharper in dreams, unfettered with Will's waking concerns; he would have remembered this place had he been to it. But when he reached for where this place came from, no room for garden mazes behind the closed doors in his mind, no checked hills that he's ever seen.
And gradually the scratches up his legs ached louder in increments, soreness climbing into him, and the early Spring breeze was all too much for the tee and boxers he'd worn to bed.
"What - ?"
There wan't anyone near him to ask. For that he had to stalk away from the treeline, arms close around his torso, approaching the nearest place where he could spot movement on the horizon. It's a deceptively long trek, and Will paused before speaking, as if unsure of what he was seeing in the other figures, whether or not he'd get a response.
"Excuse me, do you, um. Where is this place?"
closed to Evelyn O'Connell
Sometime later, when he'd found pants and lifted a jacket vaguely suited to his style from an open wardrobe, Will followed the advice of a few others: go to the library.
Apparently it had the best chance of helping Will digest the nature of "Wonderland". He didn't know whether that meant that its bookcases were lined with information, or that their seemingly eternal life would offer enough time to leaf through them all, or that he was to seek out a person, but Will saw little choice, little other purpose.
The fairy tale trappings of Wonderland extended beyond its name and some of the beings he'd learned of. The library's aisles seemed endless, a vertigo-inducing rise of bookcases that immediately made Will long to block out its breadth. The fact that this place had a librarian was madness.
"Is anyone here?" he called, faintly defensive, an unconscious broadcasting that he woke up somewhere he didn't lay his head down in and is afraid of this fact.
Where: The woods, the library
When: 3/28
Rating: PG
Summary: Wash, rinse, repeat - Wonderland's not done with Will Graham. Meanwhile, Will's catching up with the fact that anything had even begun.
The Story:
open to all
Will's dreams were vivid without any outside help. Often he found himself in one place or another, walking between memories with the sun-baked boat decks of his childhood burning his bare feet, to the deep forest surrounding his adult home, soft cold earth underfoot and bramble cutting up his legs. It wasn't so unbelievable to walk away from Molly's soft breaths beside him and find the wood opening up to rolling green lawns, but the buildings that rose in the distance were not what Will was accustomed to.
Had his mind conjured up something wholly other, a break from the unhappy riptides that kept him in place? Or was it just a polished up Lecter Mansion that waited for its master to cast his shadow over it and Will again?
(Will left him to rot in that place. He hoped Hannibal bled just as surely as Will did, no linoleum knife required.)
His memory was sharper in dreams, unfettered with Will's waking concerns; he would have remembered this place had he been to it. But when he reached for where this place came from, no room for garden mazes behind the closed doors in his mind, no checked hills that he's ever seen.
And gradually the scratches up his legs ached louder in increments, soreness climbing into him, and the early Spring breeze was all too much for the tee and boxers he'd worn to bed.
"What - ?"
There wan't anyone near him to ask. For that he had to stalk away from the treeline, arms close around his torso, approaching the nearest place where he could spot movement on the horizon. It's a deceptively long trek, and Will paused before speaking, as if unsure of what he was seeing in the other figures, whether or not he'd get a response.
"Excuse me, do you, um. Where is this place?"
closed to Evelyn O'Connell
Sometime later, when he'd found pants and lifted a jacket vaguely suited to his style from an open wardrobe, Will followed the advice of a few others: go to the library.
Apparently it had the best chance of helping Will digest the nature of "Wonderland". He didn't know whether that meant that its bookcases were lined with information, or that their seemingly eternal life would offer enough time to leaf through them all, or that he was to seek out a person, but Will saw little choice, little other purpose.
The fairy tale trappings of Wonderland extended beyond its name and some of the beings he'd learned of. The library's aisles seemed endless, a vertigo-inducing rise of bookcases that immediately made Will long to block out its breadth. The fact that this place had a librarian was madness.
"Is anyone here?" he called, faintly defensive, an unconscious broadcasting that he woke up somewhere he didn't lay his head down in and is afraid of this fact.