Apr. 22nd, 2013

lightgunhustler: (094)
[personal profile] lightgunhustler
[Jo looks unsure as she fiddles with the device’s video function, pressing her lips together before collecting herself and putting on her best resolve face, swallowing down that creeping feeling of uncertainty. Whatever this place is, it’s not what she’d first assumed – at least, she doesn’t think so. She’s positive she died, there’s no mistaking that, but she highly doubts that any afterlife would provide her with a gadget like this one. Which means that now she has questions – a lot of them.]

Hey.

[Her voice is hoarse, but at least she’s not tasting blood when she talks anymore. A definite improvement over the position she was in less than an hour ago. Puzzling, sure, but an improvement nonetheless.]

I’m guessing there has to be someone out there who can hear me, right? They wouldn’t give me one of these things otherwise, I’m pretty sure, but… if there’s anyone out there who can answer some questions for me, I’d appreciate it. Feeling kind of disoriented. Is—

[She cuts herself off. Oh, this was going to sound all kinds of stupid, but she had to ask. She knows what happened to her. Maybe someone else out there is in the same boat.]

Is anyone else here dead?

[She wrinkles her nose even as she asks it.

Yep. Just like she thought. It sounded pretty ridiculous, asking outright like that. Well. Couldn’t be helped.]
hypercompetent: <user name="melocoton"> (it's empty in the valley of your heart)
[personal profile] hypercompetent
[ When Stiles snaps awake, he's not in his bed like he remembered. He'd done his usual nightly routine--skype Scott till eleven, play an RPG until one and pass out dead until the morning for school. Oh no. Fate is awful to Stiles Stilinski, and Stiles Stilinski wakes up in the middle of a pool, spluttering and gasping for air, the wall unit catching the video of it all.

He looks around wildly, startled, brown eyes blown comically huge as he manages to get his bearings and tread water as the whole situation settles itself in his mind, and slowly, his brows come down and his mouth drops open. ]


This?! Is not funny!

[ Emphatic arm splashing. ]

For all you know I have pool trauma from that nightmare! [ And he's at least trying to get to the side now. Stiles' grumbling and yelling is easily caught on the communicator. ] Look, I get it. Apparently Most Kidnappable in Beacon Hills, but dude, throwing me in a pool for added shits and giggles?! Is kind of screwed up! So let's just get this out of the way, okay?


No, I don't know anything, and even if I did, I am pret-ty sure I would never actually tell you, woe is me, blah blah. So maybe you can come out here and kick my ass--a couple times instead of taking some kind of--dramatically ironic hilarity out of the farce of my life and we could all just move on our way, that'd be--hrrgh--swell.

[ That noise is the sound of Stiles lifting himself, sopping wet and obviously irritated, up onto the poolside. ]

And if there's a paralytic lizard douchebag waiting to swipe me up there, I swear to everything that is holy in this frickin world--[ And he grumbles and starts wringing out his hoodie. Nice to meet you, Wonderland. ]

[video]

Apr. 22nd, 2013 10:52 am
doctorweevil: (sorry i'm a twat)
[personal profile] doctorweevil
[Owen's in the gardens, sitting on a bench as he talks into the device. He looks surprisingly relaxed, all things considered, and his voice is a lazy drawl.]

All right, I've got to admit, this isn't what I expected from the afterlife. [Though that's actually reassuring, all things considered, but he's hardly going to admit that.] I'm in neither Heaven nor Hell, and definitely not Cardiff. Still, I've got vital signs again - which, believe me, is a definite plus in my book.

So, what's the deal here? I mean, a bloody great mansion surrounded by forests isn't exactly part of any belief system I've heard of, not that I'm terribly up on the whole religion thing, and I'm pretty sure nobody ever mentioned getting a free PDA when you bite it. Mind, most of the recently dead I've had the opportunity to chat with have been pretty freaked out about the whole thing, not that I blame them. It's a hell of a shock, finding out that you're dead and likely to stay that way. [He knows that from experience.]
strangeboy: (I ain't tryna play)
[personal profile] strangeboy
[The stream turns on to show the back of a certain young Musketeer holding a biscuit in his hand, looking down, and speaking to someone or something unseen.]

Sit. Yes, good girl! [Let's hope it's not a woman he's speaking to.

He bends down, makes a few kissy noises and straightens up, moving out of the frame. As he disappears, a husky can be seen, sitting patiently. If you're familiar with Philip, you're probably familiar with his dog, Faraday. Except she's D'Artagnan's dog now, and he's trying his best to be good to her. Really. She tilts her head as D'Artagnan swears off screen, whines at him, and stands.

D'Artagnan appears again, offering her another treat. She takes it and he scratches behind her ears. He moves offscreen again, mumbles something the microphone doesn't pick up and Faraday whines at him again, jumps around for a moment and then bolts out the door.]


Hey, hey wait! [D'Artagnan runs to the door, holding a bright tennis ball, and then runs back into the room, grabbing his device.]

Hello, yes, if you see a dog, could you please let me know? She won't hurt you or anything, she's just friendly. Her name's Faraday, but only responds to that sometimes. Thank you.

[And the feed cuts off with a blur-- most likely D'Artagnan running out the door with it. How far has she gotten? D'Artagnan has no way of knowing.]
lowkeyangel: (☀ feels)
[personal profile] lowkeyangel
["Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."

All he can taste is ash, and all he can feel is the weight of his brother's gaze. It's not just the older angel's gaze that burns, but the Grace spilling from the gaping wound in his body. And not simply his vessel — though his vessel is by no means intact — but his true body, the one coiled inside. He feels hot, too hot, gasping out air that he doesn't need — and then —

His back is to a wall. Inside a house that he's never seen before.]

[As the video feed flickers on, there's a great burst of white light and a high pitched noise that fries the communication device momentarily. To most creatures, it's just the worst audio overload in the world; to angels, on the other hand, it sounds an awful lot like an agonized yell. But then the device repairs itself, and the view of the hallway resumes. The sound stops. A short man, blood spreading to cover his shirt, frowns as he sits against the wall. Mostly, he frowns at himself. His true self, his Grace, is too injured to do much except do the bare minimum patch job on his vessel, prodding at himself with his fingers.

Even that job isn't terrific, at the moment. He picks up the device in a bloodied hand and peers at it, strained to his limits and yet very curious. This isn't Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory, and it isn't nothingness, either.]


I don't suppose someone would wanna fill a fella in about this place? Tell me you at least have cable. I'm missing my soaps. ...and my spleen, but you know what, I'm still not even sure what a spleen does. I think I'll be okay there. On the other hand, if you only have Lifetime here, I'm out.

[He sounds about as wrecked as he looks — but being flippant about it is, for the moment, important. Gabriel's so damaged he can't even pretend to be a trickster. He is what he is — an angel who just scraped by death. Or died. He's not really sure which it is.]
childofthemoon: ([calm] mellow)
[personal profile] childofthemoon
[The camera flicks on to Ruby sitting in one of the diner booths, far to the back, almost tucket away. Those who know here will notice immediately that she has an unusually pensieve look about her. Sad almost, worried, maybe even a little resigned. Her shoulders are slumped, and she avoids looking right at the camera.

Considering how much she usually smiles, this is quite the change.

The thing is, she can feel the wolf rearing up within her, a separate entity from her entirely. She stands no chance of wrestling it under control through sheer force of will, not after 28 years and counting of not transforming, of being repressed by the curse.

Ruby shifts in her seat, nervous. Her hands clench, knuckles going white before she sighs and tries a weak smile for the camera. It's shaky, at best.]


Where I'm from, the three nights around the full moon are known as... wolf's time. That means Wednesday, Thursday and Friday night, this week.

[Ruby falters, licks her lips, looks at the camera, then slightly away again.]

Whatever happens, please, please don't leave the mansion on any of these nights. Between sunset and sunrise, just... just don't leave the building. Please. Bar the front door. Just... stay inside.

---------------------------------------

[Private text to Daryl Dixon]

I need to talk to you, in person if possible. It's urgent. Please?

---------------------------------------

[OOC: For details on what's to come and plotting shenanigans, please see here!]

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