INCOMPLETE ;; OPEN
Who: Joker {callmechelsea} & Anyone
What: Study time with the J man.
Where: Archives and potentially elsewhere, depends on what happens.
When: Shortly after his last post.
Note: Sorry for the TL;DR, I needed to get his braining out there so he could settle here. As.. much as Joker settles, that is. Also, I guess, if you want your character to jump in - just make a new subthread unless you want them to pop in on an active one which is fine too.
Books were everywhere, scattered all across the floors and the shelves, on table tops and chairs and window sills. Unpatterned noises woke throughout the otherwise quiet area of Naudoria's archives. It was the sounds of a pen skritching rabidly into paper; and every so often there would be a long moment or two where the sway of a body and pivoting, shifting of feet, would accompany the etching noise - unsteady in motion. Stop, and start again. Stop for longer, start, stop, pause completely. Flip a page of another book to find nothing, and toss it aside. Than, he would continue writing, underlining, circling. Every now, and than, the sound of lips smacking and jaw clicking would rise up between the skritch-scratch and shuffle-shuffle.
It had gotten well past dark, and burned golden hues buried deep within the stark greased black ate up each and every detail, every cryptic message his mind found interesting like a hungering vulture. This was, searching not the books. No, the books here weren't what he was looking for - didn't have what he was looking for. Not yet. He'd been there. Spent a good hour or so there. He was still thirsty for the knowledge of this knew place he had been brought to, and what could bring it down into a cesspit of chaos. New game. New rules. So down went observations, idea's, every now and than something seemingly irrelevant to the main topic which was, Naudoria.
The lifting of the veil, Armageddon, the last coming, the day of the lord, judgement day, the end. Things that he did not believe in. Contrary to all popular believes, He wasn't actually loose some screws so to speak; and in that, he couldn't deny to himself that upon waking up here in Naudoria (the place named after a place on earth but by consensus not on earth); he was a little thrown off. His reality, the reality he knew so dangerously throughout that just mouthing words of his bitter observations of what really was could puncture and shatter - had vanished, and left him on some rock with a hand held communicating device, a color coded map, and Harvey. A bit of a throw, but he could work with this.
And In the very first moments of arrival, the Joker had to ask the question: who and how? Who was responsible for this clever, clever joke. It was very clever.
He had thought through all possibilities that could cause such a distortion in his perception, understanding, reality. The distortion he had suffered before waking up again - that was, if he was really awake. Some sort of sedative with hallucinogenic effects. A chemical like that coming from the bottom ends of the police force, from Gordon? It was highly unlikely. Batman. Fox. There was one, two, possibly three sources he could think of from the top of his head who could be responsible for the compound if that was the why and how, but that still left him here. This place, this reality - It felt real. It certainly felt real - and he knew the difference between hallucination and reality. It was in that strange sort of sensation, yes that one. That sensation that accompanied your minds downward spiral into its own personal carnival of delusions.
Than, there was the idea that he had been here before. Now, he didn't remember this place or anything about it. So, did he somehow develop amnesia - temporary, maybe permanent? Had he actually gone insane? Had Gordon spiked the back of his neck with a strong hallucinogen that temporary knocked him out? Had, during the unfolding of the end, he knocked himself out? Consumed something toxic? Split his head open and left his brain on the pavement? - lips tugged up at the thought. All these things didn't quite piece together, didn't quite make sense to his understanding of reality. It made him smile. Something new to work with. So the bat wasn't here, but knowing him. He'd come. Eventually.
So this was how it was now, this was where he was now. This was reality now. He could work with this.
But first, he needed to know what he was working with. Archives was his first choice. Archives, a few harmless experiments, and watching the little people of this new and fascinating place scurry about their little lives, in their little personalized worlds. It wouldn't be hard, and it wouldn't take long. What was the knife and how to turn it. What were the rules, written and unwritten; the moral codes that travelled around this place known as Naudoria.
He finished the last letter.
Who, what is important to you. To YOU Naudoria?
What: Study time with the J man.
Where: Archives and potentially elsewhere, depends on what happens.
When: Shortly after his last post.
Note: Sorry for the TL;DR, I needed to get his braining out there so he could settle here. As.. much as Joker settles, that is. Also, I guess, if you want your character to jump in - just make a new subthread unless you want them to pop in on an active one which is fine too.
Books were everywhere, scattered all across the floors and the shelves, on table tops and chairs and window sills. Unpatterned noises woke throughout the otherwise quiet area of Naudoria's archives. It was the sounds of a pen skritching rabidly into paper; and every so often there would be a long moment or two where the sway of a body and pivoting, shifting of feet, would accompany the etching noise - unsteady in motion. Stop, and start again. Stop for longer, start, stop, pause completely. Flip a page of another book to find nothing, and toss it aside. Than, he would continue writing, underlining, circling. Every now, and than, the sound of lips smacking and jaw clicking would rise up between the skritch-scratch and shuffle-shuffle.
It had gotten well past dark, and burned golden hues buried deep within the stark greased black ate up each and every detail, every cryptic message his mind found interesting like a hungering vulture. This was, searching not the books. No, the books here weren't what he was looking for - didn't have what he was looking for. Not yet. He'd been there. Spent a good hour or so there. He was still thirsty for the knowledge of this knew place he had been brought to, and what could bring it down into a cesspit of chaos. New game. New rules. So down went observations, idea's, every now and than something seemingly irrelevant to the main topic which was, Naudoria.
The lifting of the veil, Armageddon, the last coming, the day of the lord, judgement day, the end. Things that he did not believe in. Contrary to all popular believes, He wasn't actually loose some screws so to speak; and in that, he couldn't deny to himself that upon waking up here in Naudoria (the place named after a place on earth but by consensus not on earth); he was a little thrown off. His reality, the reality he knew so dangerously throughout that just mouthing words of his bitter observations of what really was could puncture and shatter - had vanished, and left him on some rock with a hand held communicating device, a color coded map, and Harvey. A bit of a throw, but he could work with this.
And In the very first moments of arrival, the Joker had to ask the question: who and how? Who was responsible for this clever, clever joke. It was very clever.
He had thought through all possibilities that could cause such a distortion in his perception, understanding, reality. The distortion he had suffered before waking up again - that was, if he was really awake. Some sort of sedative with hallucinogenic effects. A chemical like that coming from the bottom ends of the police force, from Gordon? It was highly unlikely. Batman. Fox. There was one, two, possibly three sources he could think of from the top of his head who could be responsible for the compound if that was the why and how, but that still left him here. This place, this reality - It felt real. It certainly felt real - and he knew the difference between hallucination and reality. It was in that strange sort of sensation, yes that one. That sensation that accompanied your minds downward spiral into its own personal carnival of delusions.
Than, there was the idea that he had been here before. Now, he didn't remember this place or anything about it. So, did he somehow develop amnesia - temporary, maybe permanent? Had he actually gone insane? Had Gordon spiked the back of his neck with a strong hallucinogen that temporary knocked him out? Had, during the unfolding of the end, he knocked himself out? Consumed something toxic? Split his head open and left his brain on the pavement? - lips tugged up at the thought. All these things didn't quite piece together, didn't quite make sense to his understanding of reality. It made him smile. Something new to work with. So the bat wasn't here, but knowing him. He'd come. Eventually.
So this was how it was now, this was where he was now. This was reality now. He could work with this.
But first, he needed to know what he was working with. Archives was his first choice. Archives, a few harmless experiments, and watching the little people of this new and fascinating place scurry about their little lives, in their little personalized worlds. It wouldn't be hard, and it wouldn't take long. What was the knife and how to turn it. What were the rules, written and unwritten; the moral codes that travelled around this place known as Naudoria.
He finished the last letter.
Who, what is important to you. To YOU Naudoria?