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OMGZ. [Dec. 3rd, 2005|06:16 pm]
'Twas Brillig


OOC: OMG WE ARE BACK IN BUISNESS.  Unless you're Kory, because APPARENTLY, you're not here.  Steve Martin.  Anyway, I'm going to assume that time hasn't stood still at all in 'Twas Brillig land, and just nudge it ahead to, say, Fall.  That's only a few months after we started, which gives us enough time to give 'em more stuff to do, but I'm guessing they haven't yet jumped full-on into the band thing yet.  I MAY BE WRONG on that, so just poke me and tell me.  There's no heavy emphasis on the band in this post, so..  It's all open to y'all's wishes!


Autum in Wonderland was an absolutely beautiful time.  Winter was magical, summer was grand, and spring magnificent, but autumn was by far Lis's most enjoyed time.  All around her, tiny leaves fell from the trees in deep, vibrant purples, and eye-aching oranges.  Slick yellows and surprising blues dotted areas upon the ground as well, many of the Wonderland trees knowing just how to colour-code as they let their leaves fall.  The air seemed to grow thinner, and when one breathed in, they could swear it snapped into their lungs in a brisk fashion, bringing a delicious sense of refreshment to their mind and bodies.

Lis loved waking up on a fall morning (when normally she'd never dare to see the front end of eight) to look out onto the hills that surrounded her house to see the many swirling colours of the Wonderland kaliescope greet her eyes.  It instantly put her into the best of moods and she more than happily would leap out of bed to see the sun rise, just so she could watch the way the light would catch the spectrum and paint it all across her walls.  She would waste no time in bolting to her parents' room and leap into their bed, just to shake them awake to see the beauty the land of wonder would show them.  While John often encouraged this "don't let yourself grow jaded and cynical" outlook that Lis had, when it was seven thirty in the morning and he had been up all night with his love the night before, a joyful turn of foot to see the sun was the last thing he wanted to encourage.  The same went for her mum, and after receiving a rather harsh telling off, Lis stuck her tongue out at the slammed door before she jogged back up to her room, picking Hewson up from his charger and placing him in the iPod deck, flipping to the newest album she'd placed into his memory and playing the music as loud as she dared before twirling in place, cheerfully moving to the groove in nothing but her pajama shorts and a comfortably clingy tee-shirt.

As she had no majour plans for the day, she saw absolutely no reason to dress herself and head out into the world so soon in the morning.  However, her father had a different idea, and less than a half-hour after she'd turned on the New Pornographers, he threw open her door and snarled that she needed to get out of the house right now if she was going to blast that shit so loud and create such a bloody racket with her dancing.  "Dammit, Astrid, we're trying to sleep here."

While she could've clammed herself up to bitterly whine about how her dad really didn't understand how exciting it was to dance and exploit the wonderful mood the season had left her in, she didn't, and rather reached for her off-white Wings shirt, a long-sleeved black number, and her thick warm jeans.  After creating her outfit and brushing her teeth, Lis lifted Hewson from the dock, placed her rose-coloured glasses on (though it was arguable that she always wore them), nabbed her black and shocking-magenta scarf and jigged her way out onto the street. 

She became reserved only when she was situated at the back of the bus that would take her into town, though her head bobbed and her toe tapped along with the rhythm of the song, her mind working out the guitar chords.  Once she left the comfort and safety of public transportation, her legs found dance again.

"It was crime at the time, but the laws have changed now!" sang Lis at the top of her voice as she danced her way down the checkered sidewalk, her iPod held tightly within her claws.  Her eyes were closed against the slightly hazy fall day, paying absolutely no mind to the creatures that gave her a wide berth as they wandered down the street.  They didn't let the fantastically tall individual side-step her way into them, though some did watch as her feet, clad in deep red leather boots, shimmied across the large checks in the footpath.  Her extra-long tail whipped out around her as she threw in an extra twist, ending to look into the side window of a cafe.  She grinned to herself and clicked down the volume of Hewson, dropping the music player into her back pocket and shifting her sleek headphones around her neck.  Casually and quietly, she cleared her throat of any sort of obstructions that would cause her voice to crack or fail, her demeanor instantly changing once indoors, away from the crisp air and fall weather.

She shifted her scarf as she quietly ordered a soy mocha with sugarless chocolate, sneakily watching a familiar form as he sat relaxed in a cafe chair.  Paying the food worker and taking her recipt a moment later, she walked feather-footed to where Rupert was, not making any sound until she clapped her hands down on top of the table, grinning and speaking right into his ear, hoping she would be able to startle her friend.

"Heeey RUPERT!"

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New thread. [Jul. 23rd, 2005|10:39 pm]
'Twas Brillig

((OOC: It is possible for another person to join in on this thread if they wanted to. But this is just something to keep the RP going whilst Kory is absent for her week at an art faire.))

It had been years since Lis had approached her father about helping tone herself for a possible life of writing and performing songs. Her father had had a slight heart attack at the time in response to this declaration by his adopted daughter, having watched her through panicked eyes before she assured him that she didn't want fame: she only wanted to tighten her voice and her writing skills. To this, her father had expressed his "If you're good, Astrid, then you're good" opinion, though he did agree to help his daughter by critiquing her songs.

Today, the two had locked themselves in her father's recording studio, both with their custom guitars strapped across their laps, absently picking at the strings as they tuned their instruments, warming them up as they did so. The two creatures barely made it farther than twenty minutes into the training session before a small argument erupted between them, unable to figure out what song for them to play in order to get into the groove of the flow that music would bring. Her father had chosen Revolution 1 by the Beatles, citing it as a brilliant rock song and one that Lis should know before someday forming her own band. Lis had argued for Warning by her new favourite band, Green Day, citing the fact that she still hadn't been able to get her scaled hands on any sort of Beatles records and therefore hadn't been able to listen and familiarize herself with the music. It was then her father had cursed Rupert's name, having figured that her best friend would've presented her with/shoved the music down her throat since they met. Lis argued back in defense of her friend, saying that if it was so important that she learn the Beatles, why didn't her own father let her borrow his records.

To which he laughed. Not a bitter laugh, but a laugh that leavened the thick air in the studio, a laugh that coaxed a chuckle from Lis's thin chest, her dreads falling over her muzzle as she shook her head. He leaned forward and gently kissed her nose before squeezing her ears lightly.

That had been hours upon hours ago, and now Lis was laying down in her bed, listening to the shifting noises downstairs. She heard the fear in her mother's voice, and she heard other things; frightening things. She heard things that caused her chest to constrict and her fingers to tighten into fists behind her head as she tried to steel herself to sleep. Long minutes passed as she tossed and turned in the sheets of her bed, having forced the headphones of her beloved Hewson into her ears to drown out the noises from the kitchen downstairs. Her heart fluttered quickly beneath her shirt before the music lost all of its charm and she was forced to pull her long legs out of the twisted sheets, pulling on pants with thin white and green stripes that were slightly baggy down the leg to hide their shape, a button down powder pink shirt that she had stolen from her half-brother and she finished off the outfit by pulling a black tee with a stylised hand holding a heart-shaped hand grenade over the button down. Unlike her mother, she didn't follow the practise of taping down her already small breasts, really loving to be a girl, but enjoying the comfort that boys clothes offered. Not to mention the familiarity it gave her from the gender crisis she had in her teens.

She fixed the collar, using her bathroom mirror do complete the task, flinching violently when a rather terrifying shattering sound reached her ears. She grabbed Hewson, flipped on Franz Ferdinand before she escaped through the window, climbing slowly down the side of the building, her endeavour aided by the thick brambles of ivy that covered the stone wall.

A few minutes later she was on a bus, the bright lights of the interior burning her eyes as she curled up on a seat, the length of her tail wrapped around her ankles. She stayed quiet as Hewson flipped between the multitudes of songs and artists he carried, assaulting her unlistening ears with jazz one moment and metal the next. Her intense blue eyes were trained out at the passing scenery, watching the priviledged countryside melt away into the harsh reality of the city, and soon she saw the bus entering the familiar section of the city and she called up to the driver, begging him to drop her off on a street that wasn't a stop, and seeing as she was the only passenger, he obliged. Lis was quiet as she scaled the fire escape ladder up two floors.

She hesitated at the window, tapping timidly at the glass. There was silence as she waited uncomfortably for Rupert to answer, hoping against all hope that he hadn't decided to go out for the night, or go to bed early, for though she had done this often, she always felt guilty if she ever woke him from a slumber.
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(no subject) [Jul. 2nd, 2005|03:27 pm]
'Twas Brillig

[music |Beatles- Act Naturally (perhaps the worst song ever)]

So Seth isn't around very much these days, BUT WHAT-EVER, I still love 'Twas Brillig, so if it turns out I have to write Rupert being awesome all on his own THEN SO BE IT.

(Set a few days later in Wonderland time so as to avoid playing each and every bass note in John's studio.)


There was a special feeling one got on a warm spring morning such as the one Rupert had awoken to, when the breeze was fresh and the sun basked in an open blue sky that seemed to stretch on into infinity, raining new life and pleasantness upon the quaint town in which Rupert had spent every day of his life since the day of his hatching. A feeling of joy, a feeling of freshness, and a feeling of absolute overwhelming smugness because he knew those suckers in school were just entering their third class of the day and had nothing to look forward to but lunch and maybe an exemption from gym due to seasonal allergies.

Strolling down the main street of town, hands stuffed into the pockets of his rolled jeans, his wallet chain swinging with a clattering of cheap metal in time with his step, bumping every other stride against his thigh, Rupert could not keep an amused smile from touching the corners of his beak. It'd been the perfect crime: pick up the lunch money left lovingly by his mother next to a note on the kitchen counter that had explained she wouldn't be home in time for dinner so he was to feed himself, grab his guitar shaped bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he left his apartment, checking the mail as he shut the old door of the building behind him. The brilliance in his scheme, he had to admit, was in reaching the street, when instead of taking the right that would lead him on the path to school he took the left into town. He couldn't've planned it better himself, and now, with a Jimi Hendrix tune in his brain and a whole afternoon to kill spread luxuriously out before him he planned how he was best suited to wasting his time.

There was the record store, the gellato shop, the bistro with really good sandwiches and tea, the vintage clothing store, the not-so-vintage clothing store, the music shop, the book store, the tiny art gallery which boasted a display by a local artist which Rupert hadn't yet visited, the larger art gallery which boasted a wonderfully awful post-modern hanging Rupert had already frequented and could not stand... Pausing at an intersection he let his thoughts meander over his possibilities.

There was always the opportunity to drop in on Eleanor or Rose at work- assuming, of course, they were at work, but something about showing up just to say 'hi' seemed almost too stalkerly for the young Jubjub's taste. He could go see Astrid, he reasoned, taking the maintained "don't walk" sign as a chance to dig out his battered iPod, putting on his well loved headphones as he called up the song that had been stuck in his head since waking, waiting for the green "walk" signal while he continued to muse on what to do for another day spent skipping school.
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(OMGFINALLY.) [Jun. 3rd, 2005|02:49 am]
'Twas Brillig

OOC: omg, guys, I'm really very sorry if this post completely SUCKS. kthx. omg. Also, if you are uncomfortable with anything that I've done with your characters in this post, PLEASE tell me. Tell me and I'll fix them. Gah, frig, so nervous. *mewls*


It was the general concensus between the four of them that a jam session at Lis's house, fully complete with a recording studio and professional instruments, was a very good idea. In responce to Rose's last question, Lis laughed it off and waved her hand, resisting the urge to hook her arm with Rupert's before they both headed to the entrance of the store. "Instead of telling you," she threw back over her shoulder as she pushed open the door, "how about I just show you?" She smirked, holding the door open for Rose. Lis pulled the three of them to a halt as they waited for Eleanor to punch herself off the clock and rejoin them, the Slithey Tove not wanting any of them to get into any trouble on her account.

They closed the distance between the clothing store and the cafe much in the way Rose, Rupert and Lis did before, ducking through the alleyways and climbing around the shady parts of the streets. They made fantastic time, the travel ending as soon as they reached the parking lot of the Cafe, Rose taking them to her car and the four of them climbing in, Rupert and Eleanor in the back while Rose and Lis took the front. There was a great argument between Rupert and Lis, if 'great' could be used in lose terms to describe whispered words exchanged between the Slithey and her JubJub friend. She had offered to sit in the back seat with him, so that he'd have someone familiar next to him, and he gave her a slightly offended look. Lis quickly dropped the subject with a nod. She climbed into the front seat as Rupert and Eleanor settled themselves in the back, and once Rose settled the car into drive and onto the road, she began her role as co-pilot, telling the jabberwocky just where and when to turn in order to reach their destination. Lis took a moment to lock her door, as they'd be heading through one of the seedier parts of the city before they hit the bottom of the hill.

Halfway through the journey, Lis reached back to Rupert and eased her iPod out of his bag, tossing him a grin before she settled herself back down in the seat, absently checking the battery on her music player. She felt gravity pull her back against the seat as the car ascended the rolling hill, digging the toe of her red leather boot into the floor of the car, carrying on a distracted conversation with Rose before she rolled up the small white headphones around the red and black player, her scaled ears flicking forward. "We're nearly here," she said, clearing her throat and sitting up in the carseat.

"Here" was a large white mansion, with ivy climbing up the two stone creatures that flanked the wrought iron gate. They were both rearing on their hind legs, though one had large, leathery wings and a wickedly sharp beak and the other had a large spiraling horn and its hooves were covered by feathery locks of fur. Two letters (W and P) were in scrawly text in the middle of said gate, within a circle, and as the car came closer, they split apart to open the gate and allow the car to enter the premesis. The driveway circled around a fountain with a gryphon who's wings were spread out wide, its toes just barely touching the base, looking as though it were to lift from the stone at any moment. Crystelline water spouted from his beak and crashed down into the pool beneath him with a pleasing melody, and small bushes a brilliant shade of jade surrounded the fixture, giving it a beautiful earthy tone. Large greecian columns encircled the entryway of the mansion, and it was here, in front of the marble-lined stairs that Lis told Rose to park, quickly climbing out of the vehicle and grabbing her father's fur-lined coat (for she had shucked it off during the ride). The awe of the entire building was lost on her, for she had lived in this beauty of a house for longer than she could remember, and she didn't bother to press the ornate doorbell before she pushed her way into the house, followed by the other three members of the "band."

The foyer and front living room of this house was tastefully decorated with warm colours and overly comfortable-looking furniture, furniture so inviting that one believed if they were to sit they'd never rise again, for they knew they could find no more wonderful place to rest their body. The table that was set in the side hallway was soon covered by the jacket Lis wore, but only for a moment, for it soon slipped off thanks to the glass covering.

Lis made no move to pick it up. Instead, she called out at the top of her lungs. "Mother! Mother, I'm home!!" She sauntered back through the corridors and down the stairs, for the house's unique architecture allowed for the house to "step" down the side of the hill they were situated on, the entire foundation reinforced with concrete, just in case some heavy rains should fall. The basement was actually carved into the hillside, further providing a stable place for the house to rest. "Mother, I'm home and I've taken Father's jacket off! I'm home, I've taken off the jacket and it's fallen to the floor! I'm home and I'm walking away from said jacket! It's there on the floor, crying because it's been forgotten and you don't seem to be answering!"

Upon recieving no responce, Lis turned on the ball of her foot and made her way back to the group, a grin on her muzzle. "Is there anything I could get you? A drink, maybe?"
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Ridiculously OOC [Jun. 1st, 2005|01:59 am]
'Twas Brillig

Hey guys, remember once upon a time we thought it'd be awesome to have a four-way band icon on DA?

Well I got super bored last night while waiting for Jess to SUPPOSEDLY be writing a new scene for the RP, apparently this is her idea of a joke, however, 'cause she said she was writing it in the morning and it is now 2 am and I SEE NO POST. Anyway, being as I am, I decided to kill time like so:

Image hosted by Photobucket.comImage hosted by Photobucket.comImage hosted by Photobucket.comImage hosted by Photobucket.com

I'm not saying any of us are obligated to use it. It just looks so damn COOL.

edit: made them comply to the 50x50 pixel size demand on DA.
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(no subject) [May. 13th, 2005|10:51 pm]
'Twas Brillig

OCC: I'm reposting this as a new thread at the suggestion of Jess. Me=not familiar with how LJ RPs work. Bear with me. :P I'm telling you all, I haven't RPed since I was about 14 and my character was a half Mobian lemur with elemental powers/half Saiyen daughter of Goku's Dad/Sailor scout for planet Vegeta/padawan learner named Leena, and I've never done one on Livejournal, so you'll have to forgive me if I totally screw this up somehow.


The smell of must and mothballs permiated the air around the cramped clothing store. Racks of vintage leisure suits and half-eaten fur coats turned the small space into a maze of sorts, almost daring the customers to try and find their way to the back where the cash register sat.

That is, if the store had any customers. Which it didn't. Not a single person had entered the store all day. Eleanor, the ball of fur with horns behind the register, tried to blame the lack of customers on the slightly overcast weather. Or maybe there was a sale at another store and everybody was there. Or perhaps there was this really good show on the telly that everyone was watching at all at the same time. In the back of her head, though, she knew what it was. Ever since she started working at the store the customer population had thinned out dramatically. It was hard enough for a Frumious Brandersnatch to find a job at all, and she realized why after her second week of tending to a store that had no customers; she frightened them all away. Only the bravest Jabberwock or most uffish of momeraths came in now, and they never made eye contact.

Eleanor lifted her head off of her long clawed arms and looked out the window again with her crimson eyes. She sighed heavily, expelling a whiff of brimstone and a small flame. She was thinking of just moving back to where she came from. She came to the villiage from the dark woods to prove to everybody that not all brandersnatches were that frumious and should be treated equally like all the other species that dotted the area. But nobody would give her a chance.

Her long prehensile tail grabbed a glass of water that was sitting next to her chair. While she loved the vintage store, she felt like she was wasting her opportunity to make a good name for herself and her kind. She didn't want to be controlled by her species reputation her whole life. She was her own person, not everbody else's preconcieved notion of what she should be.

The unfamiliar sound of the front door hitting bells snapped her out of her daze. A customer! she thought happily as she put on her best nonthreatening smile and looked to see who had walked into the shop.
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(no subject) [May. 12th, 2005|06:24 pm]
'Twas Brillig

SO I FIGURE if one of us does not get the ball rolling NONE OF US will get the ball rolling. Ever. And then WHAT WILL THIS HAVE BEEN FOR? Nothing? No, cats, this will not do.
I sort of get distracted so I never knew if we decided an official starting point for the RP, but I sort of heard that Astrid and Rupert would go to Rose's coffee shop and then the three would mosey to Eleanor's shop after a quick gabgab. I wrote this with that in mind, and if that's not okay one of you just SPEAK UP and I'll fix it, or you can post and fix it, or what-ever.

I guess as far as the general RP is concerned we all have our characters so let's stick with them and not go making things that don't belong to us say things they don't have permission to say or do. I know we're all friends here but that's just the kindly way to do it. Also you don't have to write a freakin' novel every post (the very first post is always nicer if it's more than a paragraph) but any of this three word crap and I will kick you in the teeth. I know all three of you are good writers, ya'all have no excuse.

Basically we're doing this because we're awesome and it's fun. This should be the very first line of this entry. TAKE IT TO HEART, GUYS, IT'S SO TRUE.

Also, I haven't done this in two and a half years. I'm rusty like the Tin Man from Oz. TALLY HO.


The afternoon air hung warm and soaked with the scent of a million blossoms, trees of every colour, size and variety bedecked in a full regalia of colour to herald spring, tossing their laden boughs in the fresh breeze, the entire world abuzz with life and lustre, a pleasant change from the cold stillness of a long and boring winter. Rupert loved spring, he loved the fresh grass, the blossoms, the new insects who hummed about in a lazy fashion on windowsills. The transformation of the world from a stiff lump of ice and snow into a fresh faced new growth was almost hypnotizing in its own way, far more interesting than any advanced lit essay, at least.

His mother had been too kind, as was her usual approach to any situation where throwing a lump of clay onto a pottery wheel or stitching an afghan wasn't the immediate solution. Turning a blind eye as her son none-too-quietly snuck down the fire escape via his bedroom window she'd only thought to call after him as he jumped the last few feet to the ground, pushing his window open and leaning out over the ledge so as to better project her voice to her son.

"Will you be back for dinner?"

Rupert had long ago ceased feeling the rush of shocked adrenalin when he was caught sneaking out, and now he simply turned to face her as he backed down the cobbled alley, clawed hands grasping the fretboard design of the strap which held his bag to his shoulder as he flicked the checkered feathers of his wings in an absent fashion.

"I doubt it!" His voice carried wonderfully in the natural acoustics of the gap created by the two squat buildings that served as flats for various families. "But I won't be home later than 9!"

It was a lie and they both knew it, but being best friends with your mother allowed you certain get-out-of-jail-free cards, even on school nights with essays due, and at seventeen Rupert, tall, lanky and tousle haired, knew as he fitted his headphones over his ears, his prehensile horns curving out of his way, that this was one of the occasions when a due date was not more important than a social outing.


Despite the gallery's haughty, slightly eccentric appearance and the almost overbearing impression of refined artistic taste that the building seemed to exude Rupert had found that aside from a few clever pieces (a trough of water filled with red string, a doll's head cut in half and stuffed with cotton balls and a hundred glass eyes arranged to form one large eye that stared with a freakish intensity) the gallery was presenting a bunch of rather mundane junk with ridiculous titles like "Literacy in the Spring of our Gourd." Hardly worth the hype he'd read and seen on the advertisement boards. Despite free admittance for students the orange hued Jubjub bird couldn't help but feel a bit cheated as he went from one art piece to another, his arm linked with the dreadlocked Slithey Tove who paced alongside him. He'd picked her up and they'd come here on his suggestion, Rupert having decided that it was his duty in life to educate his best friend on all the styles, forms and sways of art. His mother, an aging hippie artisan with a flighty personality and a wonderful zest for life had raised him on a steady diet of the arts from the time he was laid, and Rupert, eager to share his knowledge with the world, took it upon himself to relate to her everything he knew. This particular exhibit was a bit of a joke, however, and while Rupert usually did his best to decode the meaning behind the art the entire show reeked of such pretension that even he couldn't be bothered on this occasion.

"What does that even mean?" He'd whispered to Astrid as she fought back a giggle, the two peering at what looked like a tricyle wheel wrapped in cellophane.

Despite his jeers a pleasant afternoon had passed between the two friends, their next stop being a cozy cafe that Rupert recommended. Not a child prone to any real mischief, never having seriously done an ill deed (to the extent where he was unable to remember the last time he squashed a bug) there were still the occasional classes the boy found himself unable to stomach for their sheer monotony and humdrum repetition. It was the skipping of these classes that lead him to discover the little hideaway, the cafe having become his new most favourite haunt.

"... and it's a really good latte," he finished as he pushed the door to the establishment open, letting the smell of roasted coffee penetrate him to his very core, smiling at his companion as he held the door for her. "And when we're done, I promise, we can go shopping."
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