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entrancelogs2014-06-08 08:21 pm
monopolies) wrote in entrancelogs2014-06-08 08:21 pm
[ open ] America & Lucy catch-all!
Who: Lucy Steel Liddell (severedheads) & whoever! || AMERICA Alfred F. Liddell (monopolies) & whatever unfortunate soul he fails to land on
Where: Around the mansion, in the forest, wherever people are/aren't!
When: During the Fruits Basket event
Rating: PG-13 for possible dick sightings and pasty white boy ass
Summary: With memories altered, thinking they're possessed by the spirits of a Dik Dik and a Bald Eagle, Lucy tries to keep her "curse" under wraps while a fuckwit decides to be a plague on every family he has ever. Animals ensue.
The Story:
♘ Lucy
Before Wonderland replaced her memories of her husband and travels and the battle for the corpse parts with those of a cursed extended family, Lucy had still tried desperately to pretend to be ordinary. Now is no different. It seems no matter what life she lives, it'll be one fraught with danger and isolation. At least this time it's just a family curse that turns her into a tiny antelope. It could be much worse. She could be a girl with no powers trying to defend her oblivious husband (savior, mentor, best friend) from a national conspiracy to steal the corpse of Jesus, a conspiracy that goes all the way up to a super-powered President who has other powerful assassins at his bidding and way too much interest in Lucy.
Could be, but luckily she does not realize that's her reality. Lucy Liddell is just a young, unwed and not-completely-traumatized girl with a sweating problem.
The paranoia has remained in this life though. The "family" has taught her to be wary of outsiders and she doesn't want to tempt fate without very good reason. People have to be aware of the family curse--not all of her "cousins" are as cautious as she is after all--but she can pretend she's normal, if slightly flighty.
She smiles in the hall, nodding as scuttling away as though in a hurry, except she's never in a hurry because she has nowhere to be. Even around her cousins she looks jittery; maybe it's the prey instinct, be wary of everyone and everything until she's sure they're not going to attack her.
But it's the same instinct that draws her to groups, especially her extended family. Hovering quietly at the edge of meals, pretending to be busy with another task in the vicinity of others, it's a game of tug-of-war on her nerves between an innate desire to be with people and the cold hard reality that she should be solitary. And a strange sort of boldness that comes from a place inside her she can't quite identify helps her enter the kitchen, wander halls, and venture into the open air without losing her nerve and bolting.
In this life, Lucy's fleeting smiles aren't as rare. Not a regular occurrence, but hey, it's an improvement to all who've met her.
♘ America
Speaking of cousins who don't bother to keep their curse a secret, here's this piece of shit.
America (Alfred, actually, but his eyes light up and he responds positively to being called "America" because spirit of freedom bitches) doesn't try to hide who or what he is. It might even be hard to recognize that something's off about him this event, at least until he opens his mouth to bitch about how he's totally going to go out on his own and get a job one day far away from his family because that's what the spirit of freedom does! or approach girls outside the family with the ever-so-charming hey there stranger/bro/dollface I need to fly (literally) can ya help me out with a hug? no seriously I'm not hitting on you I like dick, oh and could you tape my glasses to my head? I can't see for shit even as a bird!
Because that is how you converse with people if you're Alfred.
And on those occasions where he reaches his final form but doesn't have the necessary eye wear, someone might get a massive bird crashing into/through their window, into their head, and if they're really lucky he'll stay a bird and not transform into a naked teenager while thrashing around on top of them.
His dinosaurs meander behind the God of Bald Eagles like kids who have been dragged to church by their family but are putting up with it because Sunday School gives them Capri Sun. To no one's surprise Jackson is the kid who constantly makes a fuss and complains nonstop to his mom. The complaining is irritating and constant.
severedheads) & whoever! || monopolies) & whatever unfortunate soul he fails to land onWhere: Around the mansion, in the forest, wherever people are/aren't!
When: During the Fruits Basket event
Rating: PG-13 for possible dick sightings and pasty white boy ass
Summary: With memories altered, thinking they're possessed by the spirits of a Dik Dik and a Bald Eagle, Lucy tries to keep her "curse" under wraps while a fuckwit decides to be a plague on every family he has ever. Animals ensue.
The Story:
♘ Lucy
Before Wonderland replaced her memories of her husband and travels and the battle for the corpse parts with those of a cursed extended family, Lucy had still tried desperately to pretend to be ordinary. Now is no different. It seems no matter what life she lives, it'll be one fraught with danger and isolation. At least this time it's just a family curse that turns her into a tiny antelope. It could be much worse. She could be a girl with no powers trying to defend her oblivious husband (savior, mentor, best friend) from a national conspiracy to steal the corpse of Jesus, a conspiracy that goes all the way up to a super-powered President who has other powerful assassins at his bidding and way too much interest in Lucy.
Could be, but luckily she does not realize that's her reality. Lucy Liddell is just a young, unwed and not-completely-traumatized girl with a sweating problem.
The paranoia has remained in this life though. The "family" has taught her to be wary of outsiders and she doesn't want to tempt fate without very good reason. People have to be aware of the family curse--not all of her "cousins" are as cautious as she is after all--but she can pretend she's normal, if slightly flighty.
She smiles in the hall, nodding as scuttling away as though in a hurry, except she's never in a hurry because she has nowhere to be. Even around her cousins she looks jittery; maybe it's the prey instinct, be wary of everyone and everything until she's sure they're not going to attack her.
But it's the same instinct that draws her to groups, especially her extended family. Hovering quietly at the edge of meals, pretending to be busy with another task in the vicinity of others, it's a game of tug-of-war on her nerves between an innate desire to be with people and the cold hard reality that she should be solitary. And a strange sort of boldness that comes from a place inside her she can't quite identify helps her enter the kitchen, wander halls, and venture into the open air without losing her nerve and bolting.
In this life, Lucy's fleeting smiles aren't as rare. Not a regular occurrence, but hey, it's an improvement to all who've met her.
♘ America
Speaking of cousins who don't bother to keep their curse a secret, here's this piece of shit.
America (Alfred, actually, but his eyes light up and he responds positively to being called "America" because spirit of freedom bitches) doesn't try to hide who or what he is. It might even be hard to recognize that something's off about him this event, at least until he opens his mouth to bitch about how he's totally going to go out on his own and get a job one day far away from his family because that's what the spirit of freedom does! or approach girls outside the family with the ever-so-charming hey there stranger/bro/dollface I need to fly (literally) can ya help me out with a hug? no seriously I'm not hitting on you I like dick, oh and could you tape my glasses to my head? I can't see for shit even as a bird!
Because that is how you converse with people if you're Alfred.
And on those occasions where he reaches his final form but doesn't have the necessary eye wear, someone might get a massive bird crashing into/through their window, into their head, and if they're really lucky he'll stay a bird and not transform into a naked teenager while thrashing around on top of them.
His dinosaurs meander behind the God of Bald Eagles like kids who have been dragged to church by their family but are putting up with it because Sunday School gives them Capri Sun. To no one's surprise Jackson is the kid who constantly makes a fuss and complains nonstop to his mom. The complaining is irritating and constant.
look, up in the sky! it's a bird! it's -- no actually it is just a bird
anyway, america isn't a stymphalian bird, but he is an eagle. and eagles are the symbols of zeus. and also fairly uncommon around wonderland, except there one is, up in the sky, flying drunkenly towards her. she would feel threatened, except she's the one with a sword and an assault rifle. why she has an assault rifle in the middle of the woods is a mystery for the ages. the real question should really be: why the fuck not. but don't worry, she's not going to shoot the bird. that would be ridiculous. also, you know, it's a symbol of zeus. and zeus is like her grandfather or something. she wouldn't just shoot an eagle. she's pretty sure zeus would transcend the dimensional planes and smite her on the spot. she doesn't have to like him to respect him, just as she does all the gods, in her own way.
but, seriously, what the fuck is that bird doing. ]
hdu use "just a bird" to describe the MAJESTY of the bald eagle what r u a frenchie
That bird is attempting to coast majestically on the breeze while scouting for friendly faces below. Except all the faces look the same to him at this height: pinkish blobs with some dark holes where eyes should be. The only logical solution is to dive down for a closer look.
Navigating through the branches is a hard task at high speeds and poor visibility. He looks more like he's desperately swerving through the canopy than gliding with purpose, but somehow he manages not to snag himself on any twigs. It's only when he's about ten feet away that the blurry outline starts to take shape. Long dark hair, something that's undoubtedly a weapon, curvy and holding strong like a boar--no doubt who this could be. ]
HEY CLARISSE!
[ A happy squawk in a familiar boyish voice punctuate by an eagle's screech as he beats his wings and outstretches his talons for a landing.
Predictably he misses. His foot catches on her shoulder and he somehow manages to trip in the fucking air, flopping to the ground in a heap of feathers and flapping.
He tries to play it cool and sidles up to Clarisse like he totally meant to do that. ]
Whatcha doin' all the way out here? On a hunt? Oh, I can help! Don't got my glasses but I can go as fast as any rabbit in this form!
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[Clint Barton is that cousin, the quiet country cousin who might say "city folk" on accident and listens to western music. The guy in the jeans and boots who spits. His cousin - his favorite cousin - stupid little kid that he is - might like to slam into people - which clint usually tolerates.
Not today as he is in distinct violation of barton airlines.
Letting out a hawk screech he moves up. glaring as much as a bird can]
Chill out bro.
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And he's one of the few cousins who Alfred will actually listen to instead of, you know, blatantly ignoring before doing something stupid in teenage rebellion and boyish excitement.
His birdie gaze follows the hawk as he drifts away and his outline blurs. ]
I can't! Second I let my soul slip away from fireworks and spacious skies and amber waves of grain 'n all that good stuff, I could go plummeting from the clouds like a big naked angel!
[ Can birds waggle their brows? Probably not, but somehow he's doing it. ]
If I landed on some uncursed lady, bet that'd make her day, hah!
[ And probably break all her bones but you know. Details. ]
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If you land on some lady I am not making any apologies for you again. I keep thinking of the time in the diner and the waitress and me havin' to pay...
[frown. but then he speaks with love.]
When are you gonna calm down. Settle. Ride the skies y'know.
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Which one? [ What's he's really asking is "was I sober for this occasion because if not, not even my falsified memories can create the sort of crazy things I do in a blackout." ] 'Cause if it's that Waffle House waitress, she was totally flirting with me all evening! Woulda gotten her number if I hadn't broke her ankle. Even though that wasn't my fault, you saw the wet floor! Coulda been anyone.
[ He just doesn't want to admit that he's at a weight where falling on people will actually hurt them. And if he does, he'll say it's all muscle. He'll insist it.
It's only the change in tone that stops his bemoaning the lost connection. Gets him to sigh and stop his cackling. ]
I got time. Maybe never. I just gotta live it up before I settle, y'know? Hard enough bein' ordinary and gettin' the most outta life, with our hurdles... [ He adds teasingly: ] Maybe when I'm as old as you. So that'll be, what, a couple centuries?
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C'mon let's go get a snack. I kind of feel like I gotta watch you knuckle head. Just in case you lose your glasses again.
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Hey, I never lose my glasses, I just place them in areas I later forget. But I could go for a bite or a dozen. Got anything in mind?
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Right around when he found out that his friend was a polar bear, but more than that, that all of his memories were picked apart and twisted around, that's when Steve decided that this event has been the worst one yet. The plan he's formed is to wait it out with as little excitement as possible until it passes.
Whenever that is, but it should only be another day or two, right?
Still, a super soldier can only stay holed up in his room for so long, and he figures that a quick trip one floor up to the diner shouldn't lead to any kind of disaster.
Which, naturally, is where Steve is wrong, because as he reaches the top of the stairs and turns the corner in the eighth floor hallway, he crashes right into someone. Steve only gets a brief look at her face, enough for him to recognize her as Lucy (a sweet girl he'd had an interesting conversation with when he first arrived here), before a puff of smoke erupts between them.
What animal does he get to babysit next? That weary thought floats in his mind as he waits for the smoke to clear.
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Deer in the headlights. The term has never been so apt. She was trying to be so careful too, she thought she was smart enough to avoid attention, but once again she proves herself wrong. And all it took was an accident. Not even a clever design to outwit her (like, she would think if her memories weren't so distorted, a certain President tricking her to come to his boat). It's a good thing deer can't cry or the waterworks would really commence. Deer can, however, have heart attacks and die from sheer stress, so here's to hoping that doesn't happen before she's back in human form.
They can also make squeaking noises, and this particular one can talk in a shaky voice.
"Please don't tell anyone," is the first thing out of the trembling antelope whispers. She's told Steve she was normal, she remembers such, and pangs of guilt resonate under her overwhelming anxiety. Lucy almost wants to apologize for lying but can't quite muster it because she's not sorry. If put in the same position, she'd lie all over again, and she's going to keep lying to everyone who doesn't know about her curse.
There's too much to say without false apologies anyway. So much that she's not sure where to begin (an explanation of her family's curse? assuring him that this isn't his fault?) and for a long minute she just stands there awkwardly like she's bolted to the ground.
Wide eyes still fixed on the face way, way above her, Lucy finally nudges the cloth under her tiny hooves.
"Erm... could you please pick this up for me? Even like this, I'm not sure if I'm fast enough to find an open room before..."
Unlike the eagle, Lucy really isn't keen on anyone seeing her without her clothes on.
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He would very much like to avoid both waterworks and heart attacks, thank you very much. But tiny is no understatement for Lucy's form right now, and so after a quick glance around the hallway to make sure they have some form of privacy, Steve kneels down so that they're closer to eye level.
"Sure thing," he says, and reaches out to pick up her clothing, tucking it all under his arm for now. Better to get her immediate concerns out of the way, to curb any panicking. "Where's your room? We can make our way there."
If he seems too calm about all this, that's only because he's gotten plenty of experience over the past few days. "And I'm not gonna tell anyone, but I hate to break it to you, I don't think this family secret is all that secret anymore."
It may have been possible to keep it under wraps in Tohru's world, with a smaller and less contained family, but Wonderland's made sure to tailor this event so that people are growing feathers and scales left and right.
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So as she hops out of the way while he gathers up her clothes, muttering a thank you in a squeaky voice, her hide starts to get a little damp. I have never smelled wet antelope but I can only presume they smell like wet horse.
Part of the nervousness is admitting where she lives, or rather the lack of living space. But Steve has been trustworthy so far. Kind and calm, both invaluable traits in her chaotic life. May as well be honest, even if it makes her sound freakishly paranoid.
"I don't... really have one of my own. I've been rotating rooms fairly regularly. Seemed like the safest option? Or maybe a migrational instinct, who knows. Other than my clothes I don't really have anything of my own, so..."
There's really no way of saying you can leave me wherever without sounding pathetic, so she forces herself to stop trembling and give the least-terrified look antelope are capable of.
"It's alright. I know it's hard to keep such a thing under wraps in such a small world, but... I don't know. It's silly. Part of me thinks that the more people think I'm normal, the easier it is to pretend I am normal. Then the other parts of me wonder why I care what others think."
Maybe because it's easier to function in a society where people don't know your deepest secrets. All hopes about safety of her family have long since evaporated; not all of them are subtle, and as much as she loves her clueless brethren, it's really taxing on her nerves. If they're selfish enough to not care, then she's not going to feel bad being selfish trying to keep herself safe and secretive.
That's what she tells herself anyway, right before she sighs and gets right back in the midst of their family woes, no matter how dangerous they could be.
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The fact that Lucy's a tiny antelope right now? Admittedly, a bit stranger, but he's already interacted with Natasha and Bucky in animal form. If he can get through that, then this should be a cake walk.
Actually, the concept of switching up rooms from time to time isn't a bad one, at least for someone who's particularly paranoid. Steve definitely had his trust issues tested in the days before arriving here in Wonderland, but he's confident enough in his own abilities and that of his team that he intends to stick with his room on the seventh floor.
Either way, he starts walking, if only to set her at ease. They should be able to find an empty room without much trouble. "Don't you think that someone understanding you for who you are is better than people thinking you're normal, in the end? That's going to help you accept it, too."
No one should have to hide their true nature. This may just be part of an event, a temporary thing that will fade away over time, but Steve still thinks there's a good lesson to be imparted here.
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I KNOW YOU DROPPED this is just for completion's sake...
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Tucked in a corner of the bed, back to the wall, she stares at the eagle. There's something familiar about it. Especially the way it doesn't seem to notice her right away. This isn't any eagle. She knows this one. It's family.
"America?"
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What he should be wondering is how the fuck he's getting away with crashing through windows with only some cuts and scrapes to show for it. He doesn't question it. No one should question Alfred's life when windows are involved.
Not for the first time and not for the last, he tucks his wings like he's turning his body into a bullet as he plots vengeance against Windex. As usual, he flaps and screeches for several moments before he finds his footing, spreading feathers and shards of glass all over the room. He's so into his ritual of shaking himself off, muttering about getting some kind of putty or glue to hold his glasses to his beak, that it takes a couple seconds to register the voice.
Eagles are not nearly as graceful walking as they are flying. He looks more like he's been kicked in the crotch and is ambling his way toward the nearest ice pack. Even with his terrible eyesight, he can still do that awesome bird thing where his head turns all the way upside down, darting around to hone in on the voice.
The little blob on the bed sounds familiar, and he can make out an outline of fur. Rat? Naw, that's a guy cousin. (Maybe. He thinks it's a guy anyway. The bobbed haircut and screechy voice kinda throws Alfred off.) Chipmunk? Naw, that's a tail--
"Katniss!" he suddenly squawks, head snapping upright as he hops his way toward her. Not exactly the most intimidating mode of transportation for a bird of prey, but he thinks he's still impressive. Anything a bald eagle does is impressive to him.
(The arrogance has not faded. It will never fade no matter what form he takes.)
"Sorry, wasn't aimin' for your room. I was gonna surprise the fella with a fish, but then I got hungry on the way over here so there wasn't a fish no more. By the way, you should really keep your windows open! Or maybe put up a sign that says you ain't open. Oh, or better, install a runway!"
Translation: cater to my absurd and specific needs, dearest cousin who probably doesn't even want me here. To his credit, he decides to tack on an altruistic offer to his whinging:
"Need a lift anywhere? Might be a little rough on the landing without my glasses, but take off is just fine!"
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Her nose wriggles as she scurries out from underneath the pile of clothing. The eagle is Alfred. Which means she's safe. Unless, she thinks for a moment, she agrees to accept that ride.
"Can you even do that? Give others rides?"
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He has to turn his head for her to see that he is in fact winking and not just squinting.
"Don't worry, I got it down to a science! Know just how long I got before I start feelin' too big for my skin, so there's no droppin' outta the sky! Not since I was little anyway. And I've lifted heavier than you."
Apparently the lack of clothes thing isn't a concern for him. Nowhere in his planning does he mention that he can carry a small bag for clothes or find somewhere secluded to change. Of the many things wrong with him, his disregard for nudity among relatives and strangers alike is not even at the top.
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Trust has never come easy for her. But it's Alfred. She can trust Alfred. And it would be wonderful to fly, wouldn't it? She's always been envious of her cousins who could fly.
"Promise you won't drop me?"
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4MURICAAAAAAAAAAAA
He's down by the water when he hears Jackson's all-too-familiar warbling, and at the miserable beast's dulcet tones he shoves up from his spot on the dock, jamming his fishing pole into his boot to lift both hands against the sun and assess the situation. He can just barely make out the hulking shadow in the distance... But America's nowhere to be seen.
"Son of a bitch--"
He bends to scoop up his crossbow. Quick, what's the OH MY GOD THERE'S A RAPTOR ON THE LOOSE version of an Amber Alert...?
FUCK YEAH
"Don't hurt my baby!" comes a familiar, obnoxiously whiny voice from above. How does he know what's even going on? Because he finally got his glasses taped to his head. Somehow. We don't question it.
And with his somewhat better vision, Alfred is able to not ram himself into Daryl's chest. He does, however, attempt a landing onto his head. The attempt consists of furiously beating his wings, smacking Daryl in the face with feathers while his talons try to grasp his hair and shoulders. It is a miserable failure and he falls off his redneck perch onto the ground.
"He's still emotionally unstable from getting punched by Clarisse," the writhing lump of feathers huffs as he scrambles to his feet. He's about as tall as Jackson at this height, so now Daryl has two feathery beasts at his feet, one grumbling angrily like an irritated cat while the other saunters toward the fishing pole.
"So obviously he's got some trust issues to work out, but I'm helpin' him one step at a time! Helpin' him find Raptor Jesus and all."
The sad part is he isn't completely joking. Look closely and he'll see a little cross hanging around Jackson's neck.
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He tilts his head up with a frown at the familiar voice just in time to get a eyeful of bald eagle underbelly right in his face, talons in his hair, and a few downy stray feathers in his god damn nose. Daryl flails almost as much as America- though somehow by the grace of god manages not to tip right back off the dock- letting out a surprised grunt/shout as he kicks his tackle box into the water accidentally.
Good. Lord.
America hits the ground and Daryl scowls down at him as he straightens his shirt, re-buttons the one that'd come undone in the scuffle. What a shit show...
"I look like a damn tree to you? Christ--" He pushes hair out of his face. "...Who the hell's Clarisse?"
Punching a raptor? He likes this person already... He narrows his eyes at the cross, though. You gotta be shitting him with this, bro.
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Which is to say no, he doesn't even have an excuse because he's wearing his glasses right now, but he's not going to let a little thing like common sense get in the way of living. He rationalizes that cranky ol' Daryl has had worse surprises than an eagle to the face. Like walking corpses or something.
Without a perch to put himself at Daryl's height and too tired to hover in the air, he's forced to stand right at his friend's feet and stare up at him in all his ruffled feather glory.
"She's a friend, even though she knocked a tooth outta my lil' guy. Real aggressive that one. Can't miss her, she's built like she could throw a ship at ya and she's always carrying some weapon or another. Fun drinking buddy though!"
In his mind he fantasizes that Clarisse and Daryl would bond over their mutual anger problems. He does not factor in the reality of abrasive personalities that could easily clash as much as they could meld. He likes to pretend that his circle of friends all get along.
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Daryl continues to pick feathers off of himself throughout America's explanation, trying to put a face to the person he's describing. He shrugs it off when he comes up short, though, because he figures if he hasn't run into her yet, he probably will eventually. Mansion ain't that big.
"Don't know that one. I'll keep an eye out--"
Satisfied that he's more or less free of plumage, he frowns down into his friend's new bird-face, arms crossed. Somewhere behind him, his tackle box lets out one last gurgle of bubbles before disappearing under the water. RIP, closet-worms.
"...Got you too, then?"
Leave it to America to look entirely- wait for it-
unruffled by this event. Yeah, I went there. Fight me.
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Of course her luck put her right into the thick of things. Almost as if she found a nest or something.
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Unfortunately he can't ever land worth a damn. Thankfully he doesn't completely destroy the mess, but he does drop a box of bandaids with Cap's shield on it. He'd planned to decorate their home with it.
He might not be able to see who exactly is sitting under the tree, but he does glance over and shout, "SORRY! I'm comin'!" before awkwardly gliding his way down.