queen elsa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bothfoulandfair) wrote2014-01-05 02:50 pm
bothfoulandfair) wrote2014-01-05 02:50 pm
one ❅ video & spam
[Public Video]
[The feed clicks on to show the ceiling of an unfamiliar room, but not much else. It's off white, and otherwise not all that interesting, although it's briefly blocked out by the swish of something that might be a dress.
There's some faint, not quite panicked breathing and then quick, cautious footsteps. They stop, and after a pause, a quiet, feminine voice can be heard.]
Anna?
[There's a sound of the door opening, a surprised gasp, a slight pause, and then the door slams shut. The recording continues.]
[Open Spam]
[This isn't Arendelle. She'd thought she'd been brought home, after she'd realized she wasn't dead, or even injured after the confrontation on the North Mountain, but the hallway is nowhere she recognizes, and that just doesn't make sense. She's never been here before, but she woke up in her room, the room she'd lived in ever since her parents had moved her out of the one she'd shared with her sister, the room she hadn't been in since before the coronation, before-
She can feel the panic rising in her throat before she can even begin to stop it, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Her powers start to unfurl, and even though she doesn't know where she is or how she got her, if any of this is even real, she gathers her skirt in her hands and runs, looking for a doorway, a staircase, a way out of wherever this is. Frost trails behind her, marking where she's stepped with intricate hexagonal patterns of ice, but doesn't go much farther than a foot or two in either direction. If she stopped to look, it would strike her as odd that she hasn't frozen the entire building.
Instead, she keeps running until she finally finds the stairwell. She hurries up, not knowing what her other choice would be, operating more on instinct than anything logical.
When she steps out on deck, she stops, staring. It's nothing like she's ever seen before, and honestly, she doesn't know what she's seeing. Snow is falling, although from what, she doesn't know as there aren't any clouds overhead, and the flakes start to swirl around her frantically, like a miniature, harmless tornado. She takes a few cautious steps forward and shivers - not from cold, never from that, but out of some sense of physical rejection of what's happening, because she doesn't know-
She startles and turns frantically at the first sign that she's not alone, holding her hands out defensively. She tries to make her voice strong, imperious, calm, but it wavers and her expression is still terrified. It doesn't sound like a very convincing threat.]
Stay back!
[The feed clicks on to show the ceiling of an unfamiliar room, but not much else. It's off white, and otherwise not all that interesting, although it's briefly blocked out by the swish of something that might be a dress.
There's some faint, not quite panicked breathing and then quick, cautious footsteps. They stop, and after a pause, a quiet, feminine voice can be heard.]
Anna?
[There's a sound of the door opening, a surprised gasp, a slight pause, and then the door slams shut. The recording continues.]
[Open Spam]
[This isn't Arendelle. She'd thought she'd been brought home, after she'd realized she wasn't dead, or even injured after the confrontation on the North Mountain, but the hallway is nowhere she recognizes, and that just doesn't make sense. She's never been here before, but she woke up in her room, the room she'd lived in ever since her parents had moved her out of the one she'd shared with her sister, the room she hadn't been in since before the coronation, before-
She can feel the panic rising in her throat before she can even begin to stop it, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Her powers start to unfurl, and even though she doesn't know where she is or how she got her, if any of this is even real, she gathers her skirt in her hands and runs, looking for a doorway, a staircase, a way out of wherever this is. Frost trails behind her, marking where she's stepped with intricate hexagonal patterns of ice, but doesn't go much farther than a foot or two in either direction. If she stopped to look, it would strike her as odd that she hasn't frozen the entire building.
Instead, she keeps running until she finally finds the stairwell. She hurries up, not knowing what her other choice would be, operating more on instinct than anything logical.
When she steps out on deck, she stops, staring. It's nothing like she's ever seen before, and honestly, she doesn't know what she's seeing. Snow is falling, although from what, she doesn't know as there aren't any clouds overhead, and the flakes start to swirl around her frantically, like a miniature, harmless tornado. She takes a few cautious steps forward and shivers - not from cold, never from that, but out of some sense of physical rejection of what's happening, because she doesn't know-
She startles and turns frantically at the first sign that she's not alone, holding her hands out defensively. She tries to make her voice strong, imperious, calm, but it wavers and her expression is still terrified. It doesn't sound like a very convincing threat.]
Stay back!
[Spam]
Being confined with other people didn't really bode well for everyone else, but she still understood it.]
Where is... [She's not even really certain how to phrase it, honestly, because this is all very surreal for her.] Here?
[Spam]
This is...we call it the Barge. It's basically...
It's hard to explain.
Have you ever looked up at the night sky and saw the stars and wondered if someone up there was looking at your star and wondering if someone else was there?
[Spam]
[Spam]
Well.
The Barge is a ship that travels through the space between stars. And it picked you up in passing.
[Spam]
She takes a steadying breath and drops her head into her hands, trying to calm down enough to make the snow stop swirling around her, and after a moment looks back up at him like he's about to personally escort her to the gallows.]
What do you want me to do? [It's almost reluctantly asked, like she's already buckling under the weight of whatever effort it's going to require to carry out the task, like she's already got a noose around her neck.
He might not be here to hurt her, but she's still a prisoner, and she doesn't know what that really means, yet.]
[Spam]
...Well, if you...could tell me what flavor pie you like best, that might be a good start.
[Spam]
What?
[Spam]
I'm a. I bake pies for a living.
It acts as a sort of comfort food. You can..sit down, breathe a second, eat a slice of pie and go over your problems one by one so that they're more manageable.
[Spam]
Why do you care?
[Spam]
[Spam]
Chocolate.
[Which isn't exactly what could be called a traditional pie flavor, but.]
[Spam]
With chocolate ice cream?
[Spam]
Thank you.
[Spam]
If you'd just...come this way, I can set you up in the kitchen.
[Spam]
Alright.
[Spam]
[Giving what he hopes is a warm and welcoming smile but is actually just full of awkward, the Piemaker leads Elsa on into the Barge proper, Digby trotting behind]
I realize this is an odd question to ask out of order, seeing as how I invited you for pie first, but...
What's your name?
[Spam]
It's Elsa.
[Spam]
[The Piemaker too, noticeably keeps his hands to himself. He's very leery about touching strangers]
I don't think I've ever met an Elsa before.
[Spam]
That's unfortunate. [Is it? She's just sort of bad at small talk when she's been freezing everything by accident and far away from everything she's ever known. B(]
[Spam]
I do know an Emerson. If we were strictly speaking. E-related names.
[Spam]
How long have you been here?
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Not. That she has anywhere else to be. But that's still a long time.]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]