realityshifted | (no subject)

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angel (d1) cordelia chase

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Hello? Anyone home?

[Cordelia Chase's voice echoes through the empty shop. There is no storekeeper to greet her, no patrons in sight. Despite knowing better, Cordelia can't help herself. She lets the door swing shut behind hide her, small brass bell ringing with finality as it shuts. Like that, she finds herself on the Astral Plane.]

Okaaaaaay, this was a bad idea!

[She's backing up, hoping the door will bump her back. She could escape then, get back to Angel and warn him of this place.]

Cordelia, you knew better, what were you thinking?! [She scolds herself until her wide brown eyes really take in the gravity of the situation.]

Well crap. Just great. Stuck on some stupid plane, somewhere in some horrible dimension and no one even saw you go in!

[With a frown and crossed arms, she looks over the star scape. Cordelia is not impressed.]

Wesley you better use your giant dorky brain to figure this out and fast! I do NOT want to spend my days here with no salons, no boutiques, no aspirin, and no big broody boss hanging around to keep the creeps away!

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[Toting his stuffed bear under his arm and a bottle of wine in his other hand (but not presently accompanied by his lion cub), Sebastian looks at the girl, frowns for a moment, and then says,]

The very unsettling things are mostly gone, as far as I can tell. And all the water by the bar is gone too, which must mean the fish have left as well. It's very rude to call a fish a monster. Is Wesley an Intellectual?

[Cordelia stared, first at the man before her, then at the bear, and then back to him again.]

Um... What?

[Okay she is thuroughly creeped out now. What IS this guy talking about?]

And yes, Wesley is an intellectual. Probably one of the smartest people I know.

[Not that she'd ever admit that to him...]

Enough about my friends, who are you and where the heck am I?

[Irene is just standing there quietly, watching you, Cordelia. Watching and judging your oddly peculiar language and behaviorism.

She sure loves your outfit, though.]

[Cordelia's eyes are roaming the plane. Nothing makes sense, and she almost feels like she's part of some tripped out fantasy. Then she sees Irene in her Victorian era glory.]

Oh no. I'm dead, aren't I?

[She pales, whiter than a sheet, which, by its very nature, should have clued her in that she wasn't dead. But this is Cordy we're talking about here.]

[Irene's eye reflect concern for only a fleeting moment before she defaults back to her constantly neutral gaze. She walks forward, skirts rustling around her, and places a gloved hand gently on Cordelia's shoulder.]

Now, no need to excite yourself, I can assure you that you aren't dead. Out of sorts, perhaps, and in a place that doesn't make much sense but you are certainly not dead.

Sebastian Flyte. How do you do? [Sebastian offers his hand to Cordelia, as a gentleman ought to.]

Cordelia Chase.

[She briefly shakes his hand, but this is a woman of business when it comes to magic, strangers, and otherworldy things. ]

You didn't answer my second question. Where am I?

[A hand goes on her hip for impatient emphasis.]

[The bustled dress Irene wore was the least of the weird things she's seen in the last half hour but she can't help but comment.]

Yes, because I'm going to believe some lady in outer space dressed in old timey clothes that this isn't some sort of "beyond." If I'm not dead, then where am I?

[Irene's not exactly sure they are still alive, but considering how assured Sherlock Holmes seemed in that fact, she's willing to believe it blindly.]

This place is called the Plane. All I know is that a great many of us have been directed here against our will, as some sort of experiment by an unnamed power. As I said, we aren't dead, though I have found myself wondering if it would have been a preferable alternative.

[Funny enough, but that gives Cordelia some relief. Well, until the preferring to be dead part. Alternate dimensions, unknown powers toying with people's lives, yep, all in a day's work at Angel Investigations.]

The Plane. How wonderfully non-descriptive. Though I'm sure the they behind all of this wants it that way. Ugh.

Is there any way to get home or are we just stuck here? You say death might be a better alternative. To... what?

[Admittedly, Irene's being a bit of a drama queen. But neither her or Cordelia showed up when the Plane was at its best.]

From my understanding, there was once a time when we could travel back and forth between the Plane and home. However, that's recently changed. Someone made a choice and it trapped us all here. Now our captors have allowed us to go home, but only if we are agreeable in pointing the finger at who we believe made that choice. I am among the unwilling ones who will not participate in such a disgusting display of depravity and accusation at the expensive of a possibly innocent fellow captive and, thus, I will remain trapped here indefinitely.

[She looks down and sighs. It's not often you'll find Irene on soapbox, but there are some emotions even she can't hide.]

I wish you will forgive me for my dramatics. And things have, since the announcement, become better here. The monsters are gone, for one, which makes the Plane all the more bearable.

Edited 2010-11-04 17:22 (UTC)

Oh dear. [It is a resigned sort of acceptance of what exactly he's staring at.] This place is a bit like the centre of the universe, I suppose, if a centre lead to everywhere at the same time. So perhaps it's like if a centre were a circumference. They call it the Astral Plane.

[Well that wasn't very helpful. She sighs. Cordelia was really missing Wesley and Angel right about then.]

Anyone that runs this place that we can talk to to get home?

[Cordelia's face fell some. She actually expected most of what Irene said, but only because she was getting smart about accepting that her life was never normal.]

Gotcha. Well, that sounds just peachy. Ugh.

[Hopefully the monsters stayed away, because Cordelia had no weapons and tended to leave the heavy lifting to the guys anyways.]

Don't apologize, this place evidently sucks. Being honest about that isn't a crime.

Hardly a crime, perhaps, but I still wish I could have given you better news.

[Irene offers her hand after a moment.]

Miss Irene Adler. I've only just arrived her a few weeks ago myself.

I don't think so. There was a man in a hat and a very scared looking boy, but I haven't seen them for a month, I think. It's hard to tell without a sun, or rather with a lot of suns and none that you move around.

[The words this new fellow had to say disheartened her visibly. She did her best to not sulk but it was hard.]

Sounds pretty hopeless, huh?

I appreciate the thought, but I'd rather hear it like it is. I prefer honesty any day of the week.

[This Cordelia, she's a confident girl. And it sounds like she really does want to hear the truth first off any time.]

I'm Cordelia. Cordelia Chase. I arrived in this damned place about a half hour ago. I hope to not be here in a few weeks.

It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Chase, although I do wish it were under more preferable circumstances.

[It's pretty obvious that Irene has already taken a shine to Cordelia - she seems genuine and brave, two traits that Irene can't help but find admirable.]

You could consider voting. My own personal feelings on it aside, I cannot begrudge those who wish to return to their homes. I have no doubt the gravity of such a decision is not lost on our captors; as a matter of fact, I am sure it is the very point of their experiment.

Oh, I don't know. We might be all right. There are people who fight extraterrestrials and that sort of thing, so I imagine they can take care of it.

I'm not too troubled by what's here, more about getting home. I have very important work I do there.

Voting? I'm sorry but you'll have to explain that.

Oh, I'm sorry, I should have been more specific. Our captors mean us to vote for who we believe made the decision that trapped us here, and for that we are given the ability to return home.

Oh. Well if that's all it takes. I know damn well who sent me here. The stupid Powers That Be. I have no qualms about throwing those jerks under the bus!

[The look Cordy has means business.]

Where can I go vote then?

Not who sent us here. Who made the choice in the recent weeks that made us unable to return home.

[She sighs, trying to think of a way to explain it that makes sense, because it doesn't entirely make sense to her.]

Our captors have been taking people and forcing them to make decisions. No one knows why, except to the end that one person made the decision that resulted in us all being trapped on the Plane. In the last few days, these... moving picture boxes have been put up around the Plane. [She gestures to one of the TVs.] It is upon these that the decisions our fellow captives have made are displayed, and we are meant to judge them based on this. That's the point... You are not voting for who sent you here, but instead, another person who made a choice that may have inadvertently trapped us here.

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