Penelope Featherington Rutherford (featherington) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-02-21 20:49:00 |
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Who: Penelope Featherington & Sully, Lydia Martin, Laurie Juspeczyk, Howard Stark, Helena Wells, Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde, Tony Gates, Mary Margaret Blanchard, Fandral
When: Beginning at midnight.
Where: Inside the bubble dimension that contains her dungeon.
What: IC/OOC! Penelope caught in her own dungeon. Will her friends save her?
Rating: Eh, middling, probably? Mostly for language, I guess? IDK
Warnings: Trigger warnings for bullying!
Upon entering this dungeon, you will be in your own clothing, and upon exiting it, the same will hold true. The clothing you wear while in the dungeon will only be worn IN the dungeon. Initially, you’ll be deposited at the floor you’re on, or in the lobby, but with the exception of the peopel in the lobby, the first door you go through will take you to the lobby, the first level of the dungeon. Each level equals just about four floors of Potts Tower; Penelope’s safe zone is on the 14th. Penelope does have her phone in her reticule, although she may be slow to answer -- don’t let that stop you from trying to call or text her! As the night and next day stretches on, she will sound more and more upset, angry, and towards the end it will seem that she’s becoming resigned to her fate. Once everyone has entered the lobby, the scene fuzzes out for just a moment, and suddenly… Sully, Lydia, Laurie, Howard, Helena, Henry, Tony, Mary Margaret, and Fandral are pulled through the television into the dungeon. Be prepared for a long night. Everyone finds themselves reclining under a large oak tree just inside a tall stone wall, with a wrought iron fence standing open and welcoming. You are all dressed in the height of Regency fashion. There is a catch, though! It’s as if you were dressed by Penelope’s mother (although you don’t know this yet). Dresses tend to be overdressed with lace and bows and flounces, and bonnets are overly-decorated with both feathers AND flowers. The men’s clothing fits very well, but it, too suffers from too much lace. To add to the collective eyesore, the colors are horrible. Too-bright yellows; blues and reds that clash with a person’s skintones; all of the women’s dresses are pastel shades that flatter no one. This was a form of hell, surely, to be pulled from her apartment into this strange world that was so familiar -- too familiar. She was short on sleep, and weary to her very soul. And yet, the woman who was and yet wasn’t her mother constantly admonished Penelope to keep her chin up and for goodness’ sake, smile. She’d never catch a husband with those bags under her eyes -- and where had they come from? Had she been up all night reading again? Penelope had been bombarded the entire time since she’d entered this strange place by her mother’s chattering, telling her how she was certain that Penelope would be a comfort to her in her old age, and a doting aunt to her future nieces and nephews. Not one of her friends -- not even Eloise, long her closest friend, had saw fit to chime in on Penelope’s behalf, not even when Penelope had attempted to speak up for herself. But seeing Cressida Twombley on Oxford street had been the worst. This one had been even worse than the real one -- every word cutting, bruising, diminishing Penelope with every breath. And she’d been everywhere Penelope had gone, all the time spent at each place interminable. Why was she even in the box she was sharing with the Bridgertons at the theatre? And why did every whispered remark resound around the entirety of the place, so that everyone who heard it laughed and repeated them in an endless echo that soon had Penelope’s ears ringing. |