004. [Visual/Location: Osten] i held you deep in my heart for too long

[returntous.livejournal.com]

There's a sudden shift as Mabel sleeps - she can feel it, even between the state of sleeping and waking. It felt like someone pushing on the walls of reality, just for a moment, and then everything feels normal. They're staring down at her from the ceiling as she opens her eyes, and for a moment all she does is stare back.

"Oh." She sits up, and stretches. "Where've you been?"

( [Visual] )

001: Now Sing the Wee [Holo]

[riddler-gump.livejournal.com]

The question isn't whether or not fairies sleep - they do, just not as frequently, nor as predictably as mortals. The question that ought to be asked, is whether or not faeries dream.

Long, pale eyelashes fluttering slightly, the clement chirping of birds still soothing his ears, the small, child-like creature stirs in his slumber. Ears twitching and the tip of his nose tickling, it isn't immediately apparent to him that something has changed very dramatically. He opens his eyes fluttering bit by fluttering bit until everything - absolutely everything - hits him like a cold iron mallet. The chill of the air, the acrid scent completely lacking in vibrancy and life, the cold, hard surface he lies on, where just moments ago were the lush underbrush of the forest. He skitters backwards, pale green eyes opening wide, ears twitching ever more frantically to pick something up, be it noise or sound or wind. Nothing. Nothing, and then his back hits another too flat, too cold surface.

Nothing at all, but metal and curved panes of glass, and for one freezing moment, he imagines he has been taken away by Darkness' minions, trapped in a glass cage for all the goblins to point and stare. Him. Gump.

He gasps, voicing his alarm under his breath. His voice is soft yet raspy, full of fire and fear. "What is this place?"

Fear gives way to something else, to righteous indignation, to resistance and reluctance and distrust. He gets on his knees, then into a crouch, inching his way closer to the only feature in the cage; the pedestal. "I demand an answer! Who dares disturb the Gump in his slumber?!"

Then and only then does something else become painfully apparent: His wrist. Or rather, not his wrist, but some manner of parasite having taken it hostage - a pale metallic band, gnawing its way into his skin so seamlessly he can find no edge to it despite fervent scratching.

Old and wise though Gump may be, he does not deal well with being plunged into something so entirely foreign and unknown. Sobbing for breath, he gets up to search the room, finding nothing but a-- a thing on that pedestal. A miniature window set in a box with strange carvings that seem to depress when touched. Perhaps it is a magic mirror, or a window to the real world, or a spyglass. "Help! Someone heed the plea of one in need, stranded and abandoned, empty-handed save for shackles!"

oo1. [holo] ARRIVAL

[stupidpills.livejournal.com]

George had bought his bed at Ikea, which meant it was neither incredibly sturdy nor particularly comfortable. It was, however, much more giving than whatever surface he was currently laid out on. Blinking blearily up at the ceiling, George patted the ground, checking a rechecking that no, he still had no idea where he was. It wasn’t the right consistency for the concrete floor of the hospital basement room where he changed, nor was it the wood flooring or carpet of the house. It also very obviously wasn’t the number 19 bus, which he’d been riding home from work what felt like only seconds ago.

Which meant he was Somewhere Else with no recollection as to how he’d gotten there.

Sitting up, George very carefully did not panic. The room did not become familiar the more he stared at it, which really was too bad. He’d been hoping very hard it would. “Hello?” he called out, scooting a little to the left then pausing. He scooted back to where he’d been lying on arrival, away from the mobile phone looking thing he had nearly knocked over with a slightly flailing elbow. He quickly patted himself down in search of his own phone, already planning out just who he was going to call to come rescue him from whatever weirdness was going on. First Mitchell, who he was going to yell at for leaving the car completely devoid of petrol, then the house, and if Annie didn’t pick up he was going to leave a very cross voicemail. The planning was pointless, of course, since he came up with absolutely nothing. It was a horrible plan, so not much was actually lost. “You took my phone!” His voice had risen of few octaves and he glared accusingly around the room. “You - whoever you are – better not be making any long distance calls. Or texting! God, I knew I should have gotten the unlimited plan.”

There were a few seconds of silence as George stared around a little longer. Had he fallen asleep on the bus and been kidnapped? Was he going to be tortured or killed or experimented on? Worse, probably. “Oh God, I've seen this film. Please don't take my organs.”

Reluctant to travel as far as the stairs, George edged closer to whatever was on the small platform. He stared at the tablet for a second and tentatively reached out to prod it gently. Nothing happened, so he picked it up delicately. There was a flip screen and buttons. He set it back down again. Then he picked it up again and pressed a few buttons. The screen blinked at him in a manner he imagined might just be disapproving. “All I wanted was to go home,” George lamented to the empty air in front of him. “I was going to make cottage pie. Instead I get-“ The tablet screen blinked at him again, grumpy. “I get you.”

4. [Location: Tamper and Trick] [For Tara or other employees of the shop]

[greenballadeer.livejournal.com]

Lorne's in a twitchy mood. Every time he turns around, he feels like someone, or something, is watching him from behind. The shadows behind the bar look alive, somehow. When he woke up this morning, he could have sworn he saw a bloodless face hovering inches from his own - but maybe it had just been a dream. The verdict is in: something's the matter with Taxon.

As he walks into the magic shop, his eyes keep darting to the corners of his vision, to dispel the shadows that constantly gather there. He leans against the counter and rings the bell.

"Anybody home?"