Alice Kruger ▶ Remi Briggs ▶ Jane ▶ Jane Weller (
endingpoint) wrote in
entrancelogs2016-07-04 12:01 pm
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(no subject)
Who: Jane Doe + YOU
Where: Different places in the mansion
When: 7-4 happy birthday 'murica but this has nothing to do with that.
Rating: PG but please warn for anything if that changes!
Summary: Jane's around, doing stuff. things. sparked by the CR meme!
The Story:
library
[Situated in a chair with a sketch book and lost in thought, Jane's sitting curled up in a comfortable chair, charcoal pencil hard at work on the paper. There are a lot of random doodles, even different portraits or profiles of people she's seen come and go from her time here so far. The ironic thing about her memory is that she doesn't remember anything about her past, but once she sees a face, it tends to stay with her. Without really think too hard about it, her pages begin to fill up with different faces, some she doesn't even have a name for yet. Maybe, if you glance over, you'll see your own image in black and white.]
gym
[She's been here before, usually jumping rope, then hitting a punching bag for a while before working on pull ups or running on a treadmill. She needs to distract herself from wanting to use her phone for anything at the moment, focusing instead on her breathing and sets of reps. She's so into her own routine that when she sees an empty machine she commanders it, without realizing that someone's actually using the leg lift and only stepped away for a moment. Once she's comfortable she goes to work, earbuds in, listening to what's been described to her as 'pop' music. Whatever that is. It's mindless, and sure, she'll listen about hitting it baby, one more time. It's better than accidentally discovering heavy metal when her volume was at full blast.]
movie night!*
[With a few different people, she's decided to start watching what are supposedly popular movies, or important movies in different genres. She's even open to things from other worlds because honestly? It's not like she knows the difference. Her place is well furnished now, the walls a soft, pale purple with homey touches that are even better than what she had in her safe house because she got to pick it all out on her own. No one from the FBI told her what she could and couldn't have. The framed artwork on the walls are her own pieces, and she's proud now of her space. Enough to have people over, and she walks into the living room with popcorn and drinks, sitting down.]
So, what's this one called again?
[Asked as she grabs the remote to press play on the DVD player.]
music room
[Jane had no idea she could play the piano when she sat down. That's how she figures out a lot in her life, by experiencing and being surprised at the end result. But when she'd found the music room on the second floor, something about the instrument made her feel like she needed to sit. Her fingers found the keys, and now she's playing. She's not even sure what it is, just that she's doing it somehow. It's like dancing with Kurt, or opening her mouth and hearing a different language come out. It happens, and she keeps playing. The music is first on her mind, but the thought that she wonders who taught her, or why, lingers. Maybe she had parents who taught her, or maybe someone forced her to learn because it was an asset somehow, or part of a cover. She just doesn't know, but it's pretty, and relaxing, so she continues to play.]
(*ooc: for the movie night, if we've had cr, consider this an open invitation to come to Jane's with a movie to watch!)
Where: Different places in the mansion
When: 7-4 happy birthday 'murica but this has nothing to do with that.
Rating: PG but please warn for anything if that changes!
Summary: Jane's around, doing stuff. things. sparked by the CR meme!
The Story:
library
[Situated in a chair with a sketch book and lost in thought, Jane's sitting curled up in a comfortable chair, charcoal pencil hard at work on the paper. There are a lot of random doodles, even different portraits or profiles of people she's seen come and go from her time here so far. The ironic thing about her memory is that she doesn't remember anything about her past, but once she sees a face, it tends to stay with her. Without really think too hard about it, her pages begin to fill up with different faces, some she doesn't even have a name for yet. Maybe, if you glance over, you'll see your own image in black and white.]
gym
[She's been here before, usually jumping rope, then hitting a punching bag for a while before working on pull ups or running on a treadmill. She needs to distract herself from wanting to use her phone for anything at the moment, focusing instead on her breathing and sets of reps. She's so into her own routine that when she sees an empty machine she commanders it, without realizing that someone's actually using the leg lift and only stepped away for a moment. Once she's comfortable she goes to work, earbuds in, listening to what's been described to her as 'pop' music. Whatever that is. It's mindless, and sure, she'll listen about hitting it baby, one more time. It's better than accidentally discovering heavy metal when her volume was at full blast.]
movie night!*
[With a few different people, she's decided to start watching what are supposedly popular movies, or important movies in different genres. She's even open to things from other worlds because honestly? It's not like she knows the difference. Her place is well furnished now, the walls a soft, pale purple with homey touches that are even better than what she had in her safe house because she got to pick it all out on her own. No one from the FBI told her what she could and couldn't have. The framed artwork on the walls are her own pieces, and she's proud now of her space. Enough to have people over, and she walks into the living room with popcorn and drinks, sitting down.]
So, what's this one called again?
[Asked as she grabs the remote to press play on the DVD player.]
music room
[Jane had no idea she could play the piano when she sat down. That's how she figures out a lot in her life, by experiencing and being surprised at the end result. But when she'd found the music room on the second floor, something about the instrument made her feel like she needed to sit. Her fingers found the keys, and now she's playing. She's not even sure what it is, just that she's doing it somehow. It's like dancing with Kurt, or opening her mouth and hearing a different language come out. It happens, and she keeps playing. The music is first on her mind, but the thought that she wonders who taught her, or why, lingers. Maybe she had parents who taught her, or maybe someone forced her to learn because it was an asset somehow, or part of a cover. She just doesn't know, but it's pretty, and relaxing, so she continues to play.]
(*ooc: for the movie night, if we've had cr, consider this an open invitation to come to Jane's with a movie to watch!)
no subject
[He quirks an eyebrow, still as playfully teasing. Anyone with a beating heart would feel for Jane and her plight, he thinks. You can't make this stuff up.
... Well, you could, but you'd have to be pretty far gone on some kind of recreational substance to cook this up for kicks.]
Are you kidding? You had me intrigued from the moment you said you were a case. It's not every day you meet someone investigating her own life. Thank you for letting me peek at your sketchbook. I can those sketches might be more meaningful than the average person's.
[Because of the tattoos, but also because people draw what they know, what they've seen. What they like. What they're daydreaming about. In her own words, Jane doesn't exactly have a lot of past inspiration to draw on.]
no subject
Well, maybe I'll remember something that really makes the story more interesting and I'll be able to share more one day.
no subject
[He squints in careful scrutiny.]
I could see you in a tiara.
[A tiara and making a set of boxing gloves to go with her lean, muscled body type. Lost royalty that fights crime would be a heck of a story.]
no subject
If I'm a lost princess, then Kurt really owes me an apology. That'd be pretty awesome, though, I have to admit. I'm sort of nervous to find out who or what I am, but....I guess this isn't one of those times it's better off not knowing.
no subject
[So no worries, all right?
It's out of some instinct to play the stubbled, wise-cracking angel on her shoulder that he takes the optimistic route to buoy her confidence. He's got a soft spot for happy endings, what can he say.]
But I have an endless list of suggestions I could talk your ear off about all day. In the interests of not interrupting you further, I suppose I had better let you get back to your sketching. Next time you'll have to tell me more about these tattoos that solve crimes.
[This is too juicy a story to pass up.]
no subject
I will. Next time, I promise.