entrancelogs | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No spores on mine. The dead come back, but they only infect if they bite or scratch you. Problem was...no one knew what was happening at first. People just started getting sick, and then they started dying. Sickness was spreading faster than anyone could figure it out, then those dead people started coming back. Happened so fast, the military completely fell apart.

[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.

We have undead shambling around, but they're not infectious. Not like what you're describing.

_{[The more he hears of Michonne's world, the more disquieted he becomes. The darkspawn had razed Ferelden in their time above ground, but that had been a single kingdom and they'd been stopped in the end.

Anders looks a little green to think about what would happen to the people if the armies fell completely.]}

What's causing the sickness? Do you know?

Things is, no one's actively sick anymore. And no, no one knows what caused the initial sickness. Anyone who did or might have been able to find out is dead. Anyone who didn't get sick and die, has that virus inside of them. It's what makes you turn when you die. From old age, an accident, infection. Anything.

[A never ending cycle of people who have the potential to become walkers.]

When a corpse comes back to life, it's because a spirit decided to inhabit the body and take it for a joyride. At least that's how it usually works at home.

_{[Anders has a stronger background in curses and hexes than he does in diseases; the nearest thing he can equate this to is spirit possession or a spell that activates after death. It's disturbing to think you could be primed to become undead because of some trigger in your blood before you're even properly dead.

This calls for another drink. He pours for the both of them, shaking his head in disbelief.]}

Is there any way to stop them? Cure this virus? When I was healing you, I didn't get any indication there was something amiss.

That's definitely different. And doesn't sound like it'd spread like a sickness.

[She's glad when he tops off her glass, definitely needing the refill.]

Can't find anyone who knows how to stop the virus. It's like it stays dormant until you're dying or bit by one of the dead. As far as the walkers are concerned, head shot. Have to destroy the brain, nothing else stops them.

[So, just like when it happens in Wonderland.]

And someone living did that to your group? And no magic to help?

_{[They're rhetorical questions, spoken with a disbelieving head shake. Your shit is some truly rank shit goes implied.]}

I'm sorry, I really am. I've heard of some strange worlds, but yours sounds in worse shape than most. Is it like that everywhere, across all races and species? People primed to turn into these creatures?

Magic doesn't exist where I'm from unless I just...don't know where to look.

[She downs the fresh drink - so much for savoring - and then clears her throat a little.]

The entire world is like this, far as we know, but it doesn't cross from humans to animals or vice versa. Small miracle, I guess.

_{[Would it put her more at ease to believe her world is devoid of it entirely?

That's a kinder thought than imagining there are equivalents of Circles and mages in her world that aren't out there assisting the people. As much as Anders looks down his nose at Kinloch Hold, at least the Circle mages had tried their best to push back the darkspawn at Ostagar and helped the Hero of Ferelden with what they could.]}

It'd be a difficult thing to miss if it were there. Perhaps it's not as prevalent, or it manifests differently like it does here in Wonderland.

_{[He polishes off his drink more quickly this time, grimacing slightly at the burn.]}

But I'm beginning to understand why you'd prefer it here.

Sometimes I feel damn guilty about that. But it is what it is, and here I am. Alive to get drunk and tell the tale.

[Maybe next time she'll leave and die, but for now, here she is.]

You're a great drinking partner.

Sometimes staying alive to tell the tale is what counts. I know I said this place was insufferable, but if execution is what you're facing at home it's no wonder you'd want your people here.

_{[Anders smiles across at her. Drinking? That he can do, and do so happily. She's welcome to claim a standing date for drinking in company if she wants to.]}

So are you, and I dare say in better shape than I'd have expected. You're one tough cookie, you know?

Just don't have it in me to lay down and lose hope. Even now.

[She had once, when her son was killed, but then she'd found Andrea, then she'd found others, too. They're going to fight back against Negan, and they're going to win. She doesn't know what to think about being called tough. But she nods at him, accepting the compliment.]

You learn to be tough. Get drunk one night, tell the tale, regroup and go on from there. So. Got to the drunk part, told the story.

[This is all, by the way, easier said than done. But she's managed to get good at compartmentalizing.]

Not everyone has that in them.

_{[A tough cookie, of that Anders has no doubt. He's seen too many acquaintances split their wrists open and make the decision to end it all.]}

One foot in front of the other. If you happen to need the services of a spirit healer again, I'm always available.

_{[No, it can't easy at all, being where she's been and then waking up back here just like that. But she's persevered so far and Anders can only hope she continues to do so.]}

I'll remember that, and probably call on you again for this, exactly.

[She shifts to stand, and is a little proud of herself for not drinking so much that she's unsteady. She needs to find Philip now, just to see him.]

Thanks again. [She leaves him with a small smile and a nod of her head.]

For the drinking, please do. I'd rather you didn't need the healing.

_{[He considers asking her if she needs an escort back to her room... but it might be doing her more of a disservice to suggest she needs the help or wants the company. So he stays behind to stopper the bottle.

He's had enough, too he thinks. The sad state of her world along with the alcohol has left a bad feeling in his stomach.]}

eenie meenie miney moe

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