Michonne (
thesamurai) wrote in
entrancelogs2016-06-01 08:44 am
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eenie meenie miney moe
Who: Michonne and YOU
Where: around the mansion
When: June 1
Rating:PG-13 maybe? Probably? Or R, we just don't know. WE NOW KNOW.
Summary: Michonne left for a canon update and is back just in time to not be IT.
The Story:
main entrance/foyer/whatever it's called
[She's going to kill Negan. The same way she killed the Governor, she's going to take her katana and run it straight through his heart. And if he kills her first with that fucking bat, she knows Rick will kill him. Bound with her hands behind her back, she subtly glances down the line of all of them on their knees, feeling rage seize in her gut when Negan gets close to Carl. Clenching her jaw, she listens to him go on and on, and she knows, one look at Rick and she knows, someone's going to die. This isn't a joke, this isn't an idle threat. One of them is about to meet the end of a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.
The rage fades to fear, something she hasn't felt since Carl was shot in the face, and she's shaking as Negan counts them down, using a child's rhyme to taunt them all. When he points at her with the bat, Michonne looks at him defiantly, but as he picks she closes her eyes, squeezes them shut for a moment, too afraid to see who it is before needing to know. But then she's on her knees in Wonderland, inside the mansion. She knows exactly where she is, and air leaves her lungs in a loud, guttural cry as she pitches forward, hands still tied behind her back, a sob wracking her frame with her forehead touching the ground. Someone's about to die and she's back here. Safe.
Pulling herself together she clumsily stands, taking a deep breath and looking around. One of her locs has been crudely cut from her head, but aside from that (and her restrained hands), she looks about the same as she did when she left. She just needs a little help with the ropes.]
video message sent from the bar (action optional)
[She doesn't go back to her room just yet, instead she goes where she knows people will be, people she can surround herself with and know she's safe. She settles in with tequila, starting a video message. It's recording for a good minute before she finds her words.]
I left. That's the second time it's happened in less than a year. But, I'm back now, and as per usual, nothing good happened, so. You need me, I'm in the bar.
[She wants to see the people she calls friends, family. Right now though, she just can't make it room to room.]
Where: around the mansion
When: June 1
Rating:
Summary: Michonne left for a canon update and is back just in time to not be IT.
The Story:
main entrance/foyer/whatever it's called
[She's going to kill Negan. The same way she killed the Governor, she's going to take her katana and run it straight through his heart. And if he kills her first with that fucking bat, she knows Rick will kill him. Bound with her hands behind her back, she subtly glances down the line of all of them on their knees, feeling rage seize in her gut when Negan gets close to Carl. Clenching her jaw, she listens to him go on and on, and she knows, one look at Rick and she knows, someone's going to die. This isn't a joke, this isn't an idle threat. One of them is about to meet the end of a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.
The rage fades to fear, something she hasn't felt since Carl was shot in the face, and she's shaking as Negan counts them down, using a child's rhyme to taunt them all. When he points at her with the bat, Michonne looks at him defiantly, but as he picks she closes her eyes, squeezes them shut for a moment, too afraid to see who it is before needing to know. But then she's on her knees in Wonderland, inside the mansion. She knows exactly where she is, and air leaves her lungs in a loud, guttural cry as she pitches forward, hands still tied behind her back, a sob wracking her frame with her forehead touching the ground. Someone's about to die and she's back here. Safe.
Pulling herself together she clumsily stands, taking a deep breath and looking around. One of her locs has been crudely cut from her head, but aside from that (and her restrained hands), she looks about the same as she did when she left. She just needs a little help with the ropes.]
video message sent from the bar (action optional)
[She doesn't go back to her room just yet, instead she goes where she knows people will be, people she can surround herself with and know she's safe. She settles in with tequila, starting a video message. It's recording for a good minute before she finds her words.]
I left. That's the second time it's happened in less than a year. But, I'm back now, and as per usual, nothing good happened, so. You need me, I'm in the bar.
[She wants to see the people she calls friends, family. Right now though, she just can't make it room to room.]
no subject
[She takes a shot of tequila and since her face throbs after, she nods at Anders, turning to face him better. She doesn't care quite enough to feel like they need to go somewhere else.]
Do whatever you need to do. Should I....stand?
[No clue how this works, so she'll go with whatever. And, if she knew his thoughts about being her sober pal for the evening and his ideas about consent, she'd be very, very appreciative.]
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[Michonne had let him crash her potluck once--she's earned a "redeem for a plague of warts on the enemy of your choosing" voucher.
If she's comfortable where she is, then she needn't do anything more except relax and recover her strength. He can do all the hard parts--he has a feeling it'll be nothing compared to whatever she's been through. Anders stands before she can, touching her shoulder to let her know he's got it covered. Michonne can handle the booze, he'll handle this.]
You're fine where you are. It shouldn't be a complicated fix so long as I know what I'm dealing with. Any other injuries I should know about before we start?
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No, just my face. You can grow that piece of my hair back he cut off, though if you want.
[She's joking as she gestures to the spot where her missing loc is.]
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The hair might be beyond my skill set, unfortunately, but we could figure out a way to... artfully tie it back?
[He's had his hair singed once or twice; he's learned the art of the carefully arranged ponytail.]
But I'm good for the rest with a money back guarantee. It might feel strange your first time, but that's just the magic setting your body to rights and replenishing your strength. No warts or rashes, I assure you. [He rubs his hands together, though the warm up is largely unnecessary, more a gesture to show he's ready to begin] Now comes the fun part.
[He spreads his palms out, a conduit for the energy that manifests in the space between he and Michonne like a wispy, blue-white cloud threaded with sparks of pure power. He directs the flow at her where it focuses in on where its most needed, the feel of it like a cool breath of air that leaves only the warmth of healing and knit flesh in its wake.]
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[Said with a little smirk.
As he begins to use the magic, she watches the wisps and tries not to tense - nothing is hurting her, in fact the pain is lessening, and it's an odd feeling, to be so aware of things healing all at once rather over time. She's still as a statue, not sure how long it will take, but completely in awe of what's happening, nonetheless.]
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How is that?
[He lowers his hands, eyeing his work in case he'd missed something.]
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Shit. That's amazing.
[So amazing that she's completely forgotten what the fuck happened to her to need the healing in the first place - at least for the moment.]
That something you can just...do? Or you have to learn it, like a trade?
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[He sits again, resting his heel on one of the stool's rungs. He's smiling, though.
Even here, even a million miles away from Thedas and Ferelden and normal life, it's a good feeling to be able to good work. Magic like Wonderland's, the kind that's only used for overindulgence and holding them captive, leaves a bad taste in his mouth.]
You really want to know? Long story short, people like me have the potential to learn, but it takes years of study to master. The technical term for what I did is spirit healing. I get dragged onto the sidelines of fights a lot, as you can imagine.
[That's a lie; he's usually in the middle of fights, the same as his friends. But it's still true that his spirit healing often nominates him for dangerous assignments.]
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[So, she listens, a little impressed by the end.]
Huh. Interesting. So are there doctors where you're from, or just...spiritual healers?
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[The corner of his lips visible to her kicks up, impish and humored. Whether you want to define it as a colorful life or a shitty life, he has it. He's lived it.
And he understands needing distractions. Most of his shitty, colorful life is built on the back of wanting to think about anything except what matters.]
There are both! Not everyone is born with magic as I am, and many people fear its use. Plus, you can't have too many people treating strange rashes.
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That's some power I'd learn to love. Just healing everybody I could. You get a lot of use out of it here?
[She's betting so, since this place can go tits up pretty damn fast. But then again, maybe not. She knows of at least one other person who can use magic to heal people, maybe three if
Zelenashe wasn't such a bitch.]no subject
[There are very few things Anders lets himself be honest about in front of people he doesn't know well, but his pride for magic is one of them. It isn't inherently destructive as the Chantry would have one believe--it's capable of so much, including small things, like curing a busted nose so a woman doesn't have to sit at the bar in pain.
It's just unfortunate that she'd needed healing at all. It must have been a rough trip back home.]
Some, given how unfriendly Wonderland can get when its having a tantrum, but not as much as you might think. I suspect that has to do with the different kinds of healers we have. Maybe that's why we're here--for the ten different ways we can cure boils.
no subject
My friend Regina has magic. Don't know if she can do that, exactly. Seems like different people's magic is capable of doing different things. In other words, not all magic is created equal. Right?
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[If they lie with the greater good, then she falls under the safe, accepted, anonymous umbrella term of "mage," or at least that's how the Chantry would tell it. If they lie with herself, that's when the more derogatory names start to stick.
Not at all magic is created equal, and the same could be said for mages.]
I think you're right about that. Wonderland has a way of opening your eyes to new possibilities. What about your world? Is magic not as prevalent there?
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[Anders hadn't been around for the titans, in fact, and his eyebrows lift to hear of them.]
... Titans? I must have missed that. Sounds like someone else's world could use some improvements.
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[Well, depending on who had it. Just like anything else; good people do good with power, bad people, well. They all knew.]
Lot of people's worlds could use some improvements.
[Said with a smirk.]
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Yours included? Is that how you ended up back here looking like you went a couple of rounds with a bear?
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We fight for our lives damn near constantly at home. First, against a man who killed people for what they had, made himself out to be a Good Guy to people willing to buy into it just for the illusion of safety. Then it was cannibals. Literally. Now it's a man who has me and my entire family bound and on our knees, going down the line to pick one of us for a random execution. Just to prove he's in charge.
[So, there it is Anders. The short, abbreviated version of the shit she's gone through.]
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At mention of cannibals, he makes a face from where he's propped his chin in his hand.]
Cannibals? Really?
[It only gets worse. By the time she's finished describing the situation she'd been in, Anders has lifted his head again with a grim focus.]
That's what you left behind?
[Maker.]
no subject
[She drinks, a lot until it burns, then goes back to elaborate on the cannibalism.]
There's no food anymore. 'less you hit jackpot on a place that hasn't been ransacked. Or you find an untouched farm.
no subject
I'm sorry you've had to be on the receiving end of someone else's cruelty. That's a bastard that'll die bloody if the universe has any justice in it.
[As she says, it could be her, yes, or maybe in a strange way Wonderland's powers had done her a favor in saving her from living that moment. That said, is it really a mercy to not know what's happened or might happen?
Anders... doesn't have an answer for that.]
Does that have something to do with the "walkers" you mentioned?
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[She rubs a hand over her face, taking a deep breath.]
They've come around here a couple times. Not the exact type from my world but close enough.
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[If they're remotely the same, ew.]
They're a big problem in your world?
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[Not before they nuked Atlanta though.]
We're all infected. Everyone where I'm from. Once you die, no matter how, you come back. Virus is already in us.
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