Princess Rosella of Daventry

[Accidental Video Post]

[It's just a bit past noon when the video flickers on--then off--then on again, wobbling in and out of darkness before finally bringing into focus the sight of a train compartment, and a slightly rumpled-looking girl sitting on the soft blue cushions, gazing intently out the window. Her own silence makes the noises of the train around her more pronounced--the rattling, the clanking, the whispering rush of air--and careful observers may notice that this girl's face is a shade paler than it normally would be, that her fingers are twisting in the fabric of her skirt in rhythm with the noise.

She hates this, the roar of the engines, the hum of machinery. There's a reason she never goes down to use the subway system beneath the City, even if it means a much longer walk above ground to get to the same place. There's a reason she has avoided this at all costs. She hates it here, buried underground in these tunnels, surrounded by the sound of the machines she loathes so much.

Her fingers twist again, the knuckles turning white, and the video dissolves into static.

But then, a few seconds later, it flickers back in again, and now Rosella's hand is pressed against the glass of the window as she leans toward it, as if that extra few inches will somehow give her a clearer look at--whatever it is she sees. Her voice, when she speaks, is quiet--and a little anxious.]

It's...it's a trick. It can't-- [A crackle of static; the video flickers.] --al. Can it? No, it can't, it's not...

[She slides closer, both hands cupped against the window now, her face pressed close with her fingers curled to reduce the glare off of the glass.]

They did this last ye-- [Static. But a bit of audio filters through, even if the video is still obscured.] --re we going?

[And then, after another few seconds, the video clicks on again--just in time to see a faint shape, deathly white, SLAM against the window from the outside of the train, and to witness Rosella jumping a mile at the sight, recoiling with a shriek that is half from surprise and half from horror.

Another flicker of the video, and now she is curled on the bench with her knees pulled to her chest, her hands over her ears, and she is mumbling frantically under her breath.]

It has to stop sometime. It has to stop. It always stops, don't look, don't-- [Static.] --ere, it's fine, it's fine, there's nothing there, it's nothing, it's--

[The train rattles, the door creaks, and the video flickers once--twice--and then finally cuts out.]


( OOC TL;DR )

[And mods, if I've gotten any of this wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it. o/]

( Dream | Off-Network )

[Accidental Video Post]

[The device switches on to the sound of a clatter and a sharp gasp, as the video displays a crooked view of what appears to be a very messy bedroom, as viewed from a camera that has just been dropped on the ground--or, perhaps more accurately, knocked off a bedside table. It is dim in the room, and difficult to see; all the indoor lights are off, but there is enough light seeping in from the window to make out the shape of someone sitting up in bed, clutching her rumpled blankets to her chest.

The motion of her head is visible as her eyes dart around the room, apparently looking for something, but then she lets out a slow breath as her shoulders slump, having found nothing. Her hand comes up to rest against her chest, as if the light pressure will help to calm the rapid pace of her heart. Then, after a few calming breaths, she silently swings her legs out of bed and creeps to the door, pulling it open a crack and peeking out as though expecting to see someone outside it.]

Sam...?

[ But after a moment of inspection, she sighs again, shaking her head as she pushes her door shut with a click and returns to her bed, murmuring under her breath: ]

No. No, of course not. Silly, thinking that...ngh.

[Once she has taken the time to straighten out her covers--apparently still oblivous to the fact that her device is on--she climbs back into bed and settles herself in with the covers pulled to her chin, her hair pooled around her on her her pillow as she stares tiredly at the ceiling.]

Drat that ticking.

[And the video holds silently on that image for another minute before finally flickering off.]


[OOC: So last Wednesday, Rosella got a fortune cookie that read "Darkness will bring many things to light"--namely, the fact that she still has nightmares about the events of the past few months, and more notably that she's back to hearing the ticking at night again, now that Duo has gone home and she's once again alone in the Warehouse. Little did she know that bringing them to light meant...broadcasting them to the Network. >>

So yes, this post really does take place in the middle of the night, but feel free to backdate, forward-date, have your character respond to it hours after the fact, whatever! Time is a fluid and beautiful thing. Just let me know so I can have Rosella respond accordingly, since she'll be a lot more startled at random voices in the middle of the night than she will at commentary in the morning.]

[Voice Post]

Did anyone--

[Rosella's voice sounds oddly hollow as she begins to speak, then stops herself abruptly, gathering her thoughts. It's clear from both her brevity and her tone that she's been rattled by something quite recently, and she buys herself a moment by swallowing and drawing a slow breath before starting again.]

Did anyone--a bit earlier, there was something--I don't know what it was, but I saw--

Is everyone all right?

[And as simply as that, the audio clicks off again.]


[OOC: Witchsplosion! So Rosella got a glimpse of that psychic backlash, mostly because I am a huge sucker for the Terminator movies and hey, visions of nuclear fallout, whee! Rosella, however, has never seen such things before, and therefore is Mightily Confused. And worried about y'all, too.]

[Accidental Voice Post]

[The recording switches on to the sound of a Network device skittering across dirt and stone, as though it has just been shoved or kicked away and it has turned on of its own volition.

For a long time, the recording is silent, save for the faint sound of shuddering, irregular breaths and the occasional high, strangled whimper. After a minute or two, the owner of the voice breaks down into a few wretched sobs, and then after a short while they are suddenly muffled again. It's clear that someone is sitting nearby, crying her eyes out and trying to stifle it. It's equally clear she has no idea that the recording is on.

After about another minute, she manages to compose herself somewhat, and the scraping sound resumes; this time, she is sliding it back toward herself, and as she picks it up, she makes a small squeak of surprise when she realizes it is already on. With a resigned sigh, she swallows hard and begins to speak, her voice thin and trembling.]

I'm--I'm so sorry. About yesterday. I know it--it doesn't make things any better, just saying that, but--

[She sniffles, fabric rustling near the microphone as she wipes her eyes.]

I was--cursed and--and Sam was too, and we took the wrong devices, he took mine and I had his and we were both cursed and all those things I said, those horrible things--it wasn't me, it was Sam, but it wasn't Sam either because he wasn't himself and I wasn't myself and we just--I'm so sorry, please, please, I didn't--

[Her voice cracks.]

The--the things I said. I didn't. Those horrible things, I didn't mean them, not any of them. I didn't know what I was saying. I...I don't really think any of that, and I'm so sorry, everyone I talked to while I was pretending to be Sam--there was a girl, one of Sam's friends--I didn't know her name, I still don't, but please, miss, if you're listening, please don't be angry with Sam, it wasn't him--it wasn't, it was me, and I just didn't know--I didn't know your name, that's all...

[Her voice rises in pitch as she starts talking faster and faster, clearly about to lose it again but forcing herself to keep talking.]

Sam's not--I didn't mean it, please, it's all just a mistake and I was cursed and we--I didn't mean it, I didn't, I didn't, I'm so sorry, I didn't know what I was doing! I never--Sam, I'd never, I'd--I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I never meant--I shouldn't have--

[She breaks off suddenly, choking down a sob, and takes a few shaking breaths to steady herself before she tries to continue.]

I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, it's all my fault, I did it, I should've known better--I should've stopped myself and I didn't and now I can't--I can't stop seeing it, over and over, every time I close my eyes...

[As she breaks down once again, she fumbles with the device. Her fingers are trembling too hard to work the switch smoothly, but she eventually manages to get the feed turned off.]


[OOC: So, um, yeah. It wouldn't be the Ides of March without somebody literally getting stabbed in the back, right? ( Which means...OOC TL;DR goes here! )

Feel free to action her up if your character would think to look for her out there (since it's an old standby hiding place of hers), but she's not particularly interested in leaving it at the moment. And of course, Network for everyone else.]

[Filtered AWAY from Sam Witwicky | Blue's Codes | Unhackable]

I don't even know what to say but

For any friends of Sam Witwicky, he's in the hospital right now.

To anyone that normally has occasion to go in the buildings near the Warehouse, please take caution. There's a machine trap in one of them. I didn't see any others, but there might very well be more, so please don't go there at all if you can at all help it. It's dangerous.

I know a lot of his friends have left the City, but please, for anyone still here, I'm sure it would mean a lot to him to see you, when he's allowed to have visitors. Even if you can only spare a little while, I'm sure it'd be greatly appreciated.

I think I'll be staying here for a while, too.

Blue, I'm scared

I don't know if this happened because of one of the boxes, or if it's something else entirely, but I think it would be wise if everyone were very careful from now on.

I don't know what else to do.


[OOC: Right, so. Sam got Saw-cursed, Rosella found him, and now he's in the hospital while she's a nervous wreck. Someone distract her?]

[Accidental Voice Post]

[The device switches on amidst a shuffle of cloth, presumably by accident--as though, perhaps, it is being kept in a pocket, out of sight, and its owner has jostled it by mistake.]

Don't look don't look don't look don't look--

[The whispered words keep time with the faint clicking of footsteps.]

There's nothing there, it's fine, it's fine, don't look, don't look, there's nothing there, just keep going one step at a time, don't look, don't look, oh, drat these boots! Don't look, there's nothing there, don't look--

[Somewhere nearby, gears grind and electricity crackles. A strangled sort of cry escapes before she can restrain it, and when she begins to speak again, it's with renewed, frantic vigor.]

No, no, no, there's nothing, it's fine, it's fine, there's nothing there, don't look, one step at a time, one and one and one and one, it's fine, it's all right, just get home, it's fine, it's fine--!

[The sound of machinery returns, louder now, clanking and rattling and grinding. Too close--this time, her fear wins out, and her scream is filled with revulsion.]

Get away!

[And now there is scuffling, shuffling, and the distinctive gasping of someone running, stumbling, and running again, as though her life depends on it.]


[OOC: It's mentioned a couple times in the King's Quest Companion that people from Daventry have a deep, universal loathing for technology. Of course, seeing as how the Daventry definition of "technology" means gears and cogs and clockwork stuff...yeah, Rosella's not having a good day. She's been fighting to keep her freaking out under control all day, but between the steampunk atmosphere and her wardrobe modification, it finally got the better of her.

All responses are assumed to be voice, and action for not_so_smooth and bombylious.]

[Accidental Video Post]

[Here is Rosella, seated at a table in the Library and slumped over an open book, head propped on one arm. The dark circles under her eyes are apparent; she hasn't been sleeping well for days, and she's finally succumbed to the tantalizing pull of weariness. There are stacks of books on either side of her, arranged in a somewhat haphazard order; she'd been reading, perhaps, and only just put her head down for a moment to rest her eyes--and then one moment became another, and another, and now she is fast asleep.

...But not for long.

At first, the only sign that something is amiss is the way her eyes squeeze shut a little tighter. Then her breathing quickens, and she begins to mumble, too low for the microphone on the device to pick up. For anyone paying particularly close attention, or someone particularly good at reading lips, one might recognize the repetition of the word "No".

Then at last she starts awake, throwing her arms out to either side as if to catch herself from falling, and in the process of doing so topples the stacks of books with a loud clatter.]

DON'T--!

[Slowly, realization settles in, and she remains still for a minute as she gets her breathing under control. Then, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head in exasperation, she fumbles for the device and pulls it toward her.]

Just a dream, it was only a dream, it wasn't anything but a--

[As she begins to poke at the device, the video feed switches off.]


( Private//Easily Hackable )


[OOC: Mwahaha, I love this curse so much. Fortunately for Rosella, functioning for days without sleep is nothing new to her, right? Feel free to action her up if you feel like it~

Also, this is kinda placeholdery; I'll be back soon.]

( Private//Hackable by Friends )

[Filtered from Alexis Hargreaves | Blue's Codes | Unhackable]

When I was a little girl, a dear friend of the family gave me a toy marionette for my birthday. He'd made it himself, I recall, and it was the funniest little thing, with a little red hat and shoes with curled toes and bright white strings to pull. I remember he showed me how to make it dance in place by pulling this string and that, and he made it bow to me and tip its hat and put on a show, all for my amusement. I was never quite as good at it as he was, but that was only to be expected, I suppose, since he was the craftsman and I was just playing.

I suppose that's rather how that curse the other day made me feel. It was one thing after another after another--and I can't help but wonder if Cain is right, and that the fact that I seem to have had it much a little worse than most was due to more than just chance. Peas under my mattress, elderly women selling laces and combs door-to-door...and yes, even a dragon.

It's not the first time I've been held captive by a dragon. Still, I'd like to hope, naive though it might be, that it will be my last. And thank you, by the way, to the courageous knights who came to my rescue. I can't begin to express how deeply I'm in your debt, and how thankful I am for your bravery.

Rue, Ahiru, have your shoes gone back to normal, now that the curse is over? Mine did, as soon as midnight came, which is rather a relief. It'd be tedious--and expensive, besides--trying to replace all those shoes with holes worn in them. And as much as I like my glass slippers, I think I prefer my more comfortable shoes for daily business. Particularly when I don't have to tie strings around them just to keep them from falling off, every time I go somewhere.

A marionette on a string has no control over his own movements; he depends entirely on the skills of his puppeteer to move and dance. And I suppose that's rather how curses can make us feel at times, isn't it? Out of control, with no say over our own actions...

Though I think it might almost be worse, having the ability to say but not to do. At least with some curses, we don't know any better until it's over, and that spares us the feeling of knowing that we're doing something against our will while we're made to do it. It doesn't make it any easier to deal with once it's over, of course, but at least for the duration, we didn't know. It'd be much worse for the puppet, wouldn't it, if the whole time his strings were being pulled, he could hang there and think about his predicament? What sorts of things would he think about his puppetmaster, I wonder?

In any case, I think I'll have a short break from dancing for a while. Blue's competition is coming up soon, and I'll want to be at my best for it, so I'd better rest while I can.

[Accidental Voice Post]

[A soft fwhump, rather like a parachute filling with wind]

I--what? How am I…?

…Oh, no. No, no, no no no no no, this isn’t what I wanted! It wasn’t meant to—how did this—oh, no, this can’t be, I didn’t do anything but read it!

No, no, how do I make it go away? Stay calm, it’s nothing to worry about, what were those words again? It was—calm down, calm down. Ahem. Swan, begone! Myself, return!

…Swan, begone. Myself, return.
…Swan, begone! Myself, return!

No, no, no!

[The fast-paced footsteps of someone sprinting across a tiled floor, and then a rush of air as a door flies open]

Swan, begone! Myself, return! Swan, begone! Myself, return! No, no, no, I can’t be stuck like this!

Have to—I need to get away—no, there’s so many people here, too many people--someone might—

Oh, this can’t be happening! How do I undo it? Swan, begone! Myself, return!

[More sprinting, and then two or three minutes of silence before…a high-pitched whine, and a dull, faraway explosion]

…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!


[OOC: Switched with Katan for the day! She’s had his wings and powers all day, but she didn’t notice them until now, when she rather instinctively used them to catch herself from falling off a ladder in the Library. At the moment she’s flying over the forest, trying not to blow up any more trees with his generic blue energy shooty things. =D]