Fantasy War For Wonderland

[Scottybird Corvus]

Note from Darth Corvus:


This going to be a complex game, but because of the nature of it all there are only a few things that you should ever really have to worry about. While in Wonderland, literally anything can happen, so have fun and enjoy imagining the scene as you will. I do hold the right to veto a particular idea, so if you think it might not fly, I would advise playing it safe and asking me about it first. If it's nothing too big, please ask in OOC chat so that the other players can visualize the scene better, too. If it's potentially important then feel free to ask me in PM's.


Other than that... Enjoy!

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

As a warning, I will occasionally post something with either a header or a footer (as seen bellow this post) that will be in italics, have the first phrase bolded, and be written in the style of a monologue. These headers/footers are written as a story being told from the perspective of our narrator. Feel free to try and identify the narrator throughout the story, although I will tell you now that you won't really ever interact with the character that is the narrator until practically halfway through the plot.


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Genius! Really. The whole concept is just mind-numbingly genius! A story, written by multiple authors, explained by being a story told by a narrator! It is just- Gah! I can hardly contain my excitement at the thought! Truly I have never had the pleasure of performing such an act! However, that's a story for another time. For now we are talking about our misfit adventurers and their grand journey; a tale to be told throughout the rest of time and existence.





 



London. It's a beautiful place, really, and in more way that one; but the story I tell today, children, is not about London at all! Rather, it is one about an odd group of harmless people, all of which ended up in that busy little city together and caused all kinds of trouble, and none of it on purpose! It's a very long story, really, and one that deserves a good retelling, so I'll start from the beginning. Ehem. "Chapter One: Into the Looking Glass."


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The sounds of cars and wind rushing by suddenly grew louder inside the old shoe shop, a fact only noticed by two of the three men inside. Tristan and his father looked up from their work in the back, both grinning knowingly at the Glas family elder. The old man looked up at them after some time, his motion followed quickly by the ringing of the bells on the door as it swung shut.


"What? Did I fart?" The old man asked, a small smile growing on his face. Chuckling, he reached over towards the workbench and picked up his hearing aid, putting it in and looking around at Tristan and his father. "Now then. What happened?"


Tristan's father started to open his mouth when a voice called out from inside the main room of the shop.


"HEY! ARE YOU BOYS ALIVE BACK THERE?!"


There was a moment of silence, and then all three men burst out laughter. Tristan and his father were at the verge of falling off the bench they were laughing so hard, and the oldest Glas male simply chuckled heartily. Tristan began to calm himself back down as his mother poked her head into the room, looking around at the three cobblers at their workbench. She smiled at them, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at their amusement.


"Oh come on, boys. It wasn't THAT funny." She said humorously. Tristan's father eventually got onto his feet, walking over to his wife and embracing her.


"Hello, sweetie. How can we help you?" He asked, wiping away his tears from laughing. The woman of the house shook her head at her husband again, leaning in and kissing him quickly. She turned over to Tristan, looking over Tristan's father's shoulder to talk to him.


"Tristan, baby, your sister wanted me to remind you to go meet her in that little coffee shop down the way. She figured you might have been working, so she asked me to tell you instead of texting it to you."


Tristan's face quickly changed from amusement to realization as he remembered his sister's intent to meet up since she was back in town for the winter break from college.


"Oh! Right you are! I forgot entirely! Thank you, mum!" He said, quickly standing and gathering a few things from off of the workbench. Tristan hurriedly went about putting away his tools and hanging the leather he was working with, letting the compound he had treated it with soak in a bit better and have time to work. Grabbing his phone before he left, Tristan gave his mother a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.


"Thanks, mum! Love you!" Tristan rushed over to the doorway into the main room of the shop, looking back at his father to shout his farewell to him as well. "Later pops! Take care of grandpa, alright? Don't want him hurting himself on the bench plane again." He said with a grin, then quickly fled outside, laughter following him.


Tristan stepped outside into the brisk Saturday morning air, checking his pocket watch while he slipped his arm into his coat sleeve. Looking around, Tristan squinted to see the street signs through the heavy fog, quickly identifying the street he would want to go down and hailing a taxi-cab so to get there faster.


I really need to get over there fast, he thought as he climbed out and payed the cabby. I'm late enough as i-


Tristan stopped, looking at the small brick building in front of him. Coulter's Candy, the sign on top read.


Ah, what the heck, he thought as he strode into the candy shop instead. It wouldn't hurt too bad to get sis a sweet before I go in for coffee.

 

[WantYourSoul]

"Slow day, eh, Georgie?" The barista behind the machine asks, opening up his phone to check the time. Georgia was busy with wiping away some residual crumbs on a recently vacated table to look at her fellow coworker as she replies,"It's so muggy I don't blame them. I hope it clears up before my studies tomorrow. These braids can't hold back the frizz forever y'know." Turning back to the barista, she hops to the counter and right over it.


The cafe was small, and there were usually only two or three workers on shift at once. Since Georgia wasn't the best barista, and her conversation skills were lacking at best, she was banished to cleaning and counting up change. But hell, it payed the bills enough for her to focus on school without worrying about starving or going to the streets.


"Doubt I'd notice if your hair got worse than it already is." Joseph, the barista, reaches across the small space between them to tug on one of Georgia's braids, earning the Indian boy a rough slap on the hand.


"Hands off. My hair to me is like that stupid NES you have. Don't even try to deny it, you'd keep that thing behind glass if you could," Georgia says tersely as a young customer walks in with a handful of coin in their hand. The preteen had a very gender ambiguous look to them so Georgia couldn't quite figure out whether or not she should call them make or female. But it wasn't her place to judge, only scowl as Joseph scooted by her to greet the customer,


"Welcome! What would you like to order today? Our-”


"Our special is spiced caramel apple cider, 10% off!" She quickly cuts her coworker off and flashes her biggest grin at the kid.


Said kid looked lost on how to react to the two coworkers bickering like children and giving the other pinches under the counter.


"That one, please," says the customer and points to a cookie without making eye contact with either of them. However, Joseph and Georgia exchanged glances. The display that houses their baked goods was notorious to slam down on your hand when least expected and not open up without the aid of someone else, several frightened customers have ended up prying the cover off Georgia's poor hand while Joseph or her other coworker, Waverly, were out on break. Although it's happened to everyone countless times before.


The two had devised a complicated method to figure out who would be the unlucky one to tussle with fate and stick their arm into the bear trap of a display.


Rock Paper Scissors.


"One moment," Joseph tells the very confused patron as he throws out scissors to his friend's rock underneath the register. One would think he'd just lost Russian roulette with the terrified squeak he made as he moves to the display.


He reaches his hand in and once he'd secured the cookie, his hand darted back out just as the heavy display door slammed shut, barely missing his fingers.


The rest of the transaction went by smoothly and the kid was off with their treat and change.


"See, Jo, wasn't that bad," Georgia teases, elbowing her six foot nothing friend in the side and imitating his squeak."Do you need me to save you? Sir Georgia to the rescue." The two laughed at her joke and then they sort of lapsed into silence as Joseph checked his phone and Georgia began organizing the cash register.

 

[RiahB]

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SHAN


Shan smiled at the couple that walked into Punk It, noting their various tattoos and peircings with admiration. She herself had been hesitant to mark her body. Something told her it just wasn't the right time to ink.

Her smile slipped when the mirrors rippled. Yes, rippled. Their surfaces moved like that of disturbed water, almost like you could dive right in and disappear. But that wasn't what disturbed Shan. It was the pictures inside. The pictures that moved and smiled back at her, lifting their long bony fingers as if trying to reach out and touch her through the liquid glass. Their grotesque faces would twist and morph into various different people, sometimes even her own reflection. When she saw herself in the rippling glass, her reflection would have no eyes. They would be gouged out of her skull and the empty sockets would be sewn shut with blue ribbon. Bloddy tears would leak down her cheeks and run a path down the side of her throat. When she saw this, she could swear she felt the tickle of the tears across her flesh.

She shuddered, not wanting to look and see her next hallucination, but it was magnetic, drawing her eyes as if it had string attached to them and they were tugging mercilessly. Her mouth opened slightly as her pupils connected with that of yellow slits and a forked tongue. She held her breath, hoping that it would pass soon. The tongue flitted out, beckoning for her to walk toward it and she shivered, watching slime ooze down the green warty skin. She was sure she could hear the sound of the slime hitting a distant floor. Plop.

She watched, mersmerized as the tongue peeked out again, this time certain that it had passed the surface of the mirror and inched closer to her, stretching to impossible lengths, slithering out like a pink, wet snake.

"Excuse me-" Shan jumped and then forced herself to face the couple in front of the counter. They watched her a little confused and she smiled reassuringly. The female smiled back politely and went on to explain that she was a size smaller than the t shirt they had displayed, a personal favorite of Shan's that had a man's legs suspended in air, his upper body disappearing at the top of the t-shirt. The collar was the color of braided rope and an overturned chair settled at the bottom of the man's feet where a shadow stretched backward, giving the affect that he had hung himself. In black, bold letters the words "HANG IN THERE" were scrawled on a "suicide" note pinned against the man's chest. Morbid, but she would be sad to see it go.

"We have just your size, I think, in the back," a voice said from behind Shan and she smiled, turning to see Dean, all manly macho gay with is ice blue hair and snake bite, pink gloss lips. He was tall and handsome and, unfairly she might add, played for the other team. "Shanny, can you go back and get- I assume you're an extra small- an extra small from the storage please? It should be behind the 'Bride of Chucky' leather jackets by the door."

"No problem," she replied, walking into the back but halting once she was in the dark storage room. She flicked on the lightsand looked behind the door for the t-shirts, making a point of ignoring the antique mirror sitting atop a shelf at the back of the room. Dean's voice seemed to fade out in her concentration and she yanked the appropriate shirt off the rack. She hightailed it out of there just as the mirror began to ripple in her periphrial.

"Here," she said, slightly out of breath and cutting of Dean's reccomendation for the male's "delicious muscles". He watched her briefly before turining back to the couple to bargain pricing. Shan just watched the now still mirror, her head aching.
​

 

[WeabooTrash]

Andrew Evans


School -> Volleyball Club -> Shoe Lockers -> Men's Changing Room -> Volleyball Gym
​

After a seemingly long day at school, Andrew took his stuff out of his school locker - textbooks, sports equipment, food and the such - stuffed everything messily inside of his rucksack and left through the back gate. Although feeling unusually tired, a wide cheerful grin could be seen on his face, as if the ends of his mouth could reach his ears if it were stretched just a bit more. As he reached his bike, a couple of his classmates passed by him and gave him a couple of friendly "Goodbye, have a nice day!"s. Replying with the same line, Andrew hopped on his bicycle and started pedaling to his volleyball club's gym.


Being on a five-minute distance from the club was quite handy for him, especially while using a vehicle. When he stopped right in front of the entrance, leading directly to the shoe lockers, he moved his bike to the pieces of metal, intended to be "parking slots" for bicycles, and a click was soon heard. With his rucksack on his back, he entered the building and quickly changed into his indoor volleyball shoes. Then after walking past the so-called lobby and a corridor to the dressing rooms, he stepped inside the men's one and changed into his sportswear. He always tends to wonder as to why he has to first change his shoes and then the clothing in this place, but always ends up with the same conclusion - no one wishes to unnecessarily clean the floors, apparently. That happens to explain the section of the shoe lockers' room, labeled as "for visitors" - a couple of shelves on which a bunch of slippers are neatly lined horizontally.


Leaving his "outdoor clothes" compactly on the clothes' hangers and carefully putting his sea-green, almost transparent short scarf on a separate hanger, Andrew felt ready for his training session with the team. His concern was keeping his speed, distance to the net when jumping and style of hitting the ball exactly the same all the time, since a new setter entered the team and that particular boy can't get used to Andrew's constantly-changing pace and style while playing. From what is known, the new setter's name is Jacob and he has made a great impression on Andrew, as any other person. "He seems a bit shy, judging by his quiet voice and unwelcoming closed-up posture." Andrew thought to himself. "Encouraging him looks as if it makes him even more anxious and insecure; he must feel as though he's constantly being watched. What could I do so that he could open up to me?" He started wondering and sat on the bench with a pose, similar to "The Thinker" 's.


"...are you doing? Andy!" a male voice was heard shouting. Getting back to Earth, the thinker looked in front of himself and saw Sam, a friend of his from the team. Scratching the back of his neck, Andrew let out a giggle and exclaimed with a silly tone: "Oh, I was just thinking about the team. You know, how to get comfortable with each other and all that! After all, getting along with everyone is essential to the team's work." "Stop fooling around, Andy! You're falling back on the laps and pre-training exercises! I don't wish to warm up with the wall like last time, you know! While you were still running, I had to pass to a wall like a lonely idiot! Why do you always make a fool out of me? You- ..." Sam continued babbling to Andrew, scolding him for every little thing, even if it wasn't "Andy" 's fault.


Andrew paid attention to his words, although meaningless, but the sparkles in our player #2's eyes proved otherwise. The reason why his best friend, Sam, had such a relation to Andy was because of his interesting personality. Samuel Jameson, as his full name was, had the habit of blaming others for everything and excessively finding faults in others. No one wants a friend like that, but the reason Andrew likes him so much lies much deeper than it may seem. To Andy, Sam is like coal - a little rubbing and a diamond will come out. "Wasn't it actually sand?" he thought to himself, not paying any more attention to his dear friend.


Andrew finally got back to his senses when Samuel hit him on the head and asked "Are you even listening to me? You do know- ..." and continued talking unnecessarily while dragging Andy to the gym. What a weird friendship they have! Andrew tried walking with the fast pace of his buddy while listening to his words and slightly giggling at every complaint of his. Only he can actually understand what's going on with Sam - as a complex human being, Samuel doesn't simply open up to anybody. A reason why Andrew appreciates and listens with interest to his friend's never-ending blabbering.

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

- About 5 Tristan-only minutes later -


Tristan opened the doors to the shop again, a bag in his hand and coat on his arm.


"Thanks again, Coult- AGH!" Tristan stopped, shocked by the cold air that he forgot he had been in previously. He quickly smiled (although really it was more of a grimace) back at the old man running the shop, waving and leaving the shop before setting down his bag and hurriedly putting his coat on. Flipping up the collar of the old thing, Tristan took his bag in hand and walked down the street to the coffee shop.


The bells on the door jingled as he stepped in, his face still colored with dislike for the cold air. While the warmth inside and the smell of coffee were pleasant, winter still moved him to such deep levels of mild annoyance such as no man has ever felt before.


"I hate the cold. Ugh." Tristan looked around, jealously coveting the warm blanket of air and concentrated humidity around him. After moving away from the door and standing around doing absolutely nothing except feeling miserable for a moment, Tristan finally walks up the counter, looking around the whole time for his sister.


"Um, excuse me," He asked the young lady behind the counter, "There wouldn't happen to be one Gwen Glas in the shop, would there?"





NOTE:


The answer to his question is "no". His sister (Gwen) gave Georgia £15 in notes (a 10 and a 5) and a message on a napkin for her to give to a "Dick Darby" if he came around asking for her. The napkin reads as follows:


"Hey, leather head. Sorry I couldn't stay and chat. I got a call in from work and had to fly. They said there were too many patients and not enough docs, so they called me in. Don't worry, I'll be paid overtime.


Have fun!


-Gwen"


You decide how to get the message across to him.

 

[WantYourSoul]

Georgia was organizing £10 notes in the register when she comes across one with a lovely rendition of Spock scrawled across the Queen's bust in blue and black sharpie. She grins and waves the bill in Joseph's face.


The pathetic nerd in him shines through as he grins,


"Gimme that!" He practically shouts, yanking a £10 note from his wallet to try initiating a trade with his friend. Georgia of course shakes her head with a wry grin and holds out her hand for more.


Joseph, the stickler he is, begrudgingly adds two more fives to receive the note.


"You know, I think your Star Quest or whatever addiction is becoming problematic," Georgia says smugly, purposely riling him up as she replaces the 10 in the register and pockets the two 5's. As the barista goes to indignantly correct her, the tinny bell rings to signal a new customer.


The two coworkers turn in sync and both go to greet the man. When he stands there idly for a moment, Joseph and Georgia exchange a look. The customer had begin moving as Georgia moves her attention back to him. Before she or her friend could get out their opening, he was asking her something.


The name Gwen Glas did ring a bell. She shakes her head as she tries remembering what it was she was asked to do if anyone asked for her.


"Oh!" She exclaims and proceeds to pull a note from inside her bra."So you're the dick she must have been talking about!" She tells him with a grin. Joseph looks less concerned she called a customer a dick and more concerned she kept a note in her bra.

 

[WeabooTrash]

Andrew Evans

Home -> Bathroom -> Bedroom -> London -> Coffee Shop
​

Waking up with a rather loud yawn, Andrew scratched the back of his head and looked at his surroundings in a rather confused manner. He was lying in his bed, his two favourite blankets covering him, and noticed the clock saying it was a couple of minutes before 9 AM. "What happened... yesterday?" Getting out of bed in a rather sloppish way, he had apparently had a completely normal day yesterday, but for some unknown reason he couldn't remember anything after the practice match against some strong high school team.


Andy went towards the bathroom for his usual morning shower. Once he started putting shampoo on his hair and running his fingers through it, the boy felt an unusual bump on his head. "Oww, what is that? All I know is that it hurts..." Finishing his shower, he kept on gently rubbing the certain injury out of curiosity as to how he hurt his head for a couple of seconds before putting on his robe. He was very confused and his biggest concern was the sudden memory loss of yesterday afternoon and the following evening.


Since Andrew walked out of the bathroom without any slippers on, he slipped on the wet surface of the bathroom floor and fell on his bottom. A chuckle was followed after his sigh as he tried to get up, rubbing his buttocks from the pain was feeling. "Since when have I been so careless?" he questioned himself with a smile, carefully going through the door to his house's hallway and returned to his bedroom just to get a hold of his slippers.


A good twenty minutes worth of time passed since he went inside his bedroom, occupied by him heat-drying his hair and putting on some clothes - choosing a scarf was the biggest challenge of all as he had nearly a hundred different ones in a separate section in his wardrobe. For a Saturday, he chose a light salmon coloured one, hand-knitted by his own grandmother two years ago. He had a huge love for scarves - so big that he even wore them at home.


Andrew fast-walked down the stairs and jumped into the kitchen with a rather loud entrance. "Mother, Father, what's for break-" He noticed there was no one there and looked around with a confused expression. The boy noticed a sticky note on the fridge and read it to himself. "Andy, honey, we hope you're feeling well today as yesterday you didn't look so good. I have to go urgently to work while your father is also ordered by his boss to go to his workplace. Please stay healthy and check the fridge as I left you waffle dough - you know what to do with it.


Samuel passed by yesterday evening and he seemed rather worried about you. You were sleeping at the time, so he asked if he could see you soon after "yesterday's incident". Do you know that one coffee shop on XXX street? He asked if you could meet up there today, but he didn't specify a time. Samuel seemed concerned, so please see him there once you feel better!


Many kisses,


Your Mother"


"How did she find the time to write this if she were urgently called yesterday...? Well, I do feel better, so I might head there after breakfast~" Whistling a rather cheerful melody, he made himself waffles from the dough and cleaned his dishes. Putting on a jacket and some boots, he felt ready to leave and left with just some pocket money and keys, forgetting his mobile phone completely.


Even though town was on a fifteen-minute distance from his house, Andrew didn't feel that tired. Reaching London, he pedaled at a steady pace to his destination - the coffee shop. When he got to the planned place, he left his bike in front of the shop and clipped it tightly to a nearby street light. The boy walked inside, embraced by the smell of fresh coffee and warmth, and glanced in different directions just to not see Sam anywhere. Andy didn't even contact his friend since yesterday, so he wasn't sure when he could see him.


Rummaging through his jacket's pockets, Andrew gasped because of the emptiness he wasn't expecting - something was surely missing, he thought. Of course, his phone. Feeling worried that he couldn't call Samuel, Andy took a deep breath and decided he had to spend his day in the shop while his friend arrived. "Well, today I'm on night shift, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to order some coffee as a way of energizing myself!" Even though it was the earlier part of morning, Andrew surely felt a nice glass of caffeine would do the trick for many hours.


He walked towards the cash register where a man was talking to two of the workers. While he took slow steps to the register, he blushed by seeing the female worker pull out a... napkin? She took it out from inside her upper clothing, and thus Andrew stopped in one place and just stared at the two strangers. A few seconds later his confused blushing expression was changed to a smile. "That calls for an interesting story!" is what the boy thought immediately afterwards and continued stepping to the register. Smiling happily, he asked: "Excuse me, could I order a short cappuccino?" He did not realise, however, that he had just interrupted a probably important conversation - all he wanted was coffee at that exact time... and what that "interaction", as he couldn't describe it in any better way, was about. "There must be a reason for her to pass him a napkin... Something that doesn't have anything to do with wiping... Right?" he thought, curiosity getting the best of him as usual.

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

"Dick? Oh. Darby. Got i-"


Tristan looked over in surprise at the boy who came in and interrupted him. He smiled politely at the younger boy (although it didn't reach his eyes), and motioned to let the barista take his order while Tristan read the note.


It only took him a moment for verify that it was her, and only a moment longer to realize what it said. Sighing loudly to himself, Tristan pocketed the napkin and walked over to hand the barista a £5 note.


"Thanks." He said, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets again and shaking his head. He started to walk out of the shop when he realized that his dad and grandpa wouldn't expect him back any time soon, so he had time to stick around and enjoy a drink.


He turned around and looked over the bulletin board for a moment, attempting to ignore the boorish boy next to him and trying to decide what it was he wanted to order...


Tristan smiled apologetically at the barista that gave him the note.


"I'm sorry. I don't really drink coffee often. Gwen usually picks out some exotic blend that she found for me to try when we meet up, but besides that I hardly drink it at all. Do you have any good suggestions?"

 

[WeabooTrash]

Andrew Evans

Coffee Shop

​

Andrew smiled when the barista wrote down his order, then he glanced over at the unknown man next to him. Apparently that quick checking out did not catch the man's smile. The highschool boy again looked at the stranger, who seemed to be reading something on the napkin. His curiosity forced him to lean backwards a bit to also take a look at the writing, but, sadly, he couldn't - it was too suspicious of his side to stare for long at the hands of the man, so Andrew moved a bit forward with his stool and changed his point of view to the different alcohol-filled bottles on the shelves behind the other barista.


The boy got confused when the stranger started leaving and then returned, but reacted with a 'meh' type of expression. "I guess he can't decide whether to leave or stay. Happens to me all the time." Andrew quickly took a look at the man when he sat next to him and listened to his order while facing the other way - not to look suspicious, although he already did. The boy was a pretty talkative person and felt as though he was in need of company, so he decided to get to know the other man, despite his age. Turning over to him, Andrew spoke: "Hello!", and scratched the back of his neck. Thinking of a topic that didn't include an introduction was difficult for him, so he decided to start off with the classics. "My name is Andrew and I'm a highschool student! What's your name?" He was grinning pretty brightly and in a welcoming way - Andrew didn't consider talking out of the blue to strangers as something weird; he wanted to talk to someone, but he couldn't contact Sam as he surprisingly wasn't sure about his phone number, nor did he even had his phone with him. His head still hurt, too. Let's hope he doesn't have amnesia.

 

[WantYourSoul]

Joseph had obviously given up trying to take control of the cash and moved to the three machines lined up along the left of the rectangular counter that the two were stationed behind. He was on standby to make the customers' drinks once they had ordered.


The psychology student in her relished filing away this tiny interaction between the two strangers to analyze later during class. Her gunmetal blue eyes squint as she smiles and begins pointing up at the bulletin board.


"Okay, so, our drink of the day is spiced apple cider but-uh-you wanted coffee. Also our triple triples are really rich, like wow. Waverly's mom-the owner- just got in a shipment of Iranian beans. Joseph makes really great French Vanilla Cappuccinos, that's actually what I'm drinking now," as she spoke, the reason she was such a terrible hostess came to surface. She lifts a cup to show the first customer her drink, Joseph stomps on her foot to keep her from embarrassing herself with babbling about coffee.


Joseph smiles helplessly, a sort of what can you do? expression on his face.


"But we also have tea!" Georgia adds in an attempt to remove some of the awkwardness from her pauses.

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

(sorry, been busy. Gonna be a bit longer, but I'll post either later tonight or in the morning when I wake up. Once again: sorry!)

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

(sorry again! Forgot!)


Tristan looked at Andrew funny for a moment, but quickly covered it up with an uneasy smile.


"Tristan." He said, extending his hand tentatively. He didn't know why the boy wanted to talk to him, or why he was so odd about it, but Tristan had always been taught to try to be civil.


The barista spoke up again, yammering about the special and what they had. Tristan had to admit, he was greatly amused by her awkward speech. She reminded him of a friend he had back in year 11 of schooling.


"I'll take what you're having, then." He says with a suppressed smile.


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


A dark haired man in his late early twenties walks in the door, his face partially shadowed by his hoodie. He looks around the place, a warm smile coloring his continence pleasantly. He notices the group of people sitting at the counter talking and smiles a little more. Walking over, the man sits down and takes off his hood, waiting for their conversations to die down before ordering.


"Excuse me, miss," He says, looking at Georgia who is rather clearly in charge of the situation. "But if I may, I'd like to order a cup of your dark roasted latte. And, by the way, I'm sorry for your frizz. I understand your plight all too well. My sister is always complaining about it." He said, giving a little wink.

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

@WeabooTrash @WantYourSoul


Hey guys. I'm waiting on you now. Kind of a funny turn of events, but alright.


If you guys are having trouble with anything, game related or not, tell me and I will try to help.

 

[WantYourSoul]

Georgia offers a grin and juts her chin towards Joseph and he, surprisingly, fills out the orders without complaint.


"Those are real hot. So... Yeah, they're hot so if you burn yourselves you can't sue us. That's why they have warnings on cups at Mcdonalds Tim Horton's," she says, unsure why she imparted that knowledge. She had also forgotten that it wasn't very likely her two customers knew what the Canadian dominating coffee chain was. This time Joseph couldn't stomp on her foot or pinch her to stop her from babbling.


"That'll be £2.80, both of you," Joseph pipes up, placing the two cups in front of her and tugging one of her braids,"break time, Georgie. Think you can manage?"


That caused Georgia to twist away from the counter, holding the tugged braid in an offended fashion.


She puffs up her chest and says with pink cheeks,"Of course I can manage myself. At least I didn't get my hand stuck in the display and broke into tears in front of a gaggle of highschoolers." Joseph didn't respond to her playful jab and hung his dark blue apron on one of the four hooks, leaving one out of the four empty.


While her back was turned, the new dark-haired stranger had arrived and seated himself. Georgia would be ashamed to say she missed the cheerful tinkle of the bell at his entry, since she nearly leapt a foot in the air when he spoke.


Slapping a hand across her chest, her cheeks heat up and she nods."O-of course, yeah! Dark roasted latte coming up, it's £2.70 by the way," as she turns to the machines, she seems to deflate slightly,"You can tell how bad my frizz is? Christ, I should cut it off at this point. I can't even do my job without gaining a practical afro." With her back turned, she hadn't noticed the wink, but her cheeks were cherry red anyways with her back turned to the three as Joseph was already out on his fifteen minute break. Without him to stop her from saying or doing something embarrassing, like babbling.


@Darth Corvus

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

@WantYourSoul


Weaboo hasn't been on in 11 days. Should we continue without him for now? Maybe repost an interest check to draw new players?

 

[WantYourSoul]

@Darth Corvus


You should advertise more, but it'd be fun if we could continue what we were doing. Stagger the influx of characters. I dunno.

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

Cool beans. I'll get a post running and start advertising for our little adventure.

 

[Ashbash]

One day, Rosella was casually wandering around the center of the rose garden. The day went by slowly, trimming brushes and humming little tunes, until a fellow came with a letter and a package. It was from her mother. Firstly, she opened the package and inside held small handheld journal. She went near the well under the gazebo and read the letter. It said, "Dearest Rosella, I had returned from looking for your father and read your note. I wish you great luck in college and have fun in London. I have some distasteful news, your father was killed during a storm." Rosella collapsed, grasping the wall of the well before hitting the ground. She continued reading. "I do miss your father and decided to create a will and giving all my children something. I give you this, only thing precious enough for my youngest. As you read this letter, I will be dead too. I thought of a way to live but nothing came too." Finishing the last line, Rosella stood up and leaned against the well. "I will or I have jumped into the ocean to be with your father."


Now sitting on the well, she began to flip through the journal. A few sketches here, a fairy tale story there, but something had caught her eye. A list of names her parents had thought of to name Rosella. On the bottom of the list was Rosella and with it, a small sketch of a rose was neatly drawn. Talking to herself, Rosella wondered. "I guess they cared enough to think of almost 20 names for me." She giggled and flipped through some more pages. The wind started to pick up, but she stayed, sitting on the wall of the well. A strong blast of wind came towards her. Rosella tips towards the center. She begins to fall into the clear water of the well. She lays, unconscious in a land she will soon learn as Wonderland.

 

[Scottybird Corvus]

One day, Rosella was casually wandering around the center of the rose garden. The day went by slowly, trimming brushes and humming little tunes, until a fellow came with a letter and a package. It was from her mother. Firstly, she opened the package and inside held small handheld journal. She went near the well under the gazebo and read the letter. It said, "Dearest Rosella, I had returned from looking for your father and read your note. I wish you great luck in college and have fun in London. I have some distasteful news, your father was killed during a storm." Rosella collapsed, grasping the wall of the well before hitting the ground. She continued reading. "I do miss your father and decided to create a will and giving all my children something. I give you this, only thing precious enough for my youngest. As you read this letter, I will be dead too. I thought of a way to live but nothing came too." Finishing the last line, Rosella stood up and leaned against the well. "I will or I have jumped into the ocean to be with your father."
Now sitting on the well, she began to flip through the journal. A few sketches here, a fairy tale story there, but something had caught her eye. A list of names her parents had thought of to name Rosella. On the bottom of the list was Rosella and with it, a small sketch of a rose was neatly drawn. Talking to herself, Rosella wondered. "I guess they cared enough to think of almost 20 names for me." She giggled and flipped through some more pages. The wind started to pick up, but she stayed, sitting on the wall of the well. A strong blast of wind came towards her. Rosella tips towards the center. She begins to fall into the clear water of the well. She lays, unconscious in a land she will soon learn as Wonderland.

OOC here. I'm sorry, but no. Just, no. There is a pattern, there is a path. I'm sorry. It looks like you want to get right to Wonderland, but there is a way that we are to get there, and that way is very - I mean VERY - plot important.


Here is what I recommend: read through what people have posted already (minus WeabooTrash's first post) and try to make something that fits the theme so far. The unrelated chick that is known as Rosella is, well, unrelated.


I'm so sorry, but please. I know you're brand new, but I do ask for a certain quality of writing.