By the hands of the Gods, you have been plucked from your time and from your world, dropped into the box.
Only the box is a world of its own.
We are a mass crossover based on the concept of Pandora's Box. Characters from nearly any fandom can be played here. Because of the endless character possibilities, we are canon only here at Pandora. Take a peek at our rules and plot information before starting your new life in Pandora.
How long has it been now? Past a month. The passage of time blurred and became an abstract within the insulated dreamworld, but still it persisted in that idyllic way it did. Internally, Wanda felt she was on the cusp of a breakthrough just past the reach of her fingertips. The grand illusion that should've been a way to carve a path to understanding was, in a way, still the better alternative to languishing in bed or lashing out from her moment of crisis.
The metaphysical nature of her problem had still been frustrating, but at least this way, nothing of value was lost, nobody was suffering, the stakes were low, and she didn't have to rack on more guilt to her debt.
It couldn't go on forever, though.
A squeak alerted her attention, with a blink, to the fact that she'd accidentally stepped on one of the family goodboy's chew toys in the midst of her distant fluttering in and out of sapience. Wanda stared at the polished tiled floor, something changing in the subtle textures of her eyes and expression as sapience once more took a backseat to Mrs. Maximova.
Wanda raised her brows animatedly and knelt onto the ground, calling out as she swiped the toy off the floor. "Mr. Biscuits, did you leave your ducky in the kitchen?" Her voice dipped to a disgustingly sugary coo near the end of the question. "Come here, boy! C'mere! Wanna go play?" She grinned lopsidedly, raising the duck in the air and tossing it playfully across the threshold into the living room.
Mr. Biscuits’s day had been a rather eventful one so far, at least after one of the neighborhood squirrels had dared to get close to the sliding glass door. Once he’d chased the interloping rodent off, he’d actually made progress on the hole he was digging in one of the flowerbeds. All of that excitement naturally meant that Mr. Biscuits was in desperate need of a nap. Though his humans had provided him a comfortable bed that was the exact right size for him, he much preferred Iris’s bed.
Curling into a comfortable ball and resting his tail on his nose, Mr. Biscuits dreamed. He dreamed of walking the streets of Livadele on two bare feet, a hand curled around a wooden staff that hit the asphalt in time with his stride. The energy (magic) that crackled around him seemed to catch, a friction in each careful step. He leaned down and felt the grass (so real) beneath his fingertips, watched people (spirits?) walk the idyllic streets. “Fascinating.”
The insistent sound of a squeaker broke through the dream. Mr. Biscuits woke with a start and a huffed woof. The ducky. The infernal unkillable waterfowl, which somehow had the audacity to taunt him, Mr. Biscuits! He could hear its pathetic cries from the kitchen.
The dog took a flying leap from the bed, legs churning before he even hit the ground. The skittering of his nails on the hardwood and the jingle of his collar were his harbingers, and very soon he stood at the threshold between rooms. Mr. Biscuits looked up excitedly, prancing, watching as Wanda- (Wanda).
Mr. Biscuits’s dance stopped. The duck went airborne, arcing perfectly and hitting Mr. Biscuits square on the snout with a dejected squeak. The dog didn’t flinch. He looked up at the human with black, fathomless eyes – and now there was an ember of red within, some remembrance. He opened his mouth and the sound that came out was not words, but not quite a bark or a whine or any sound a dog might normally make. Nevertheless, there was almost a question to it: why am I here?
Here Wanda was, on the cusp of telling Mr. Biscuits in that embarrassingly infantile soprano that he had done such a good job at yesterday's commercial shoot that he deserved extra treats — yes he did — that when the mood shifted in the way that it did, she found herself at an immediate loss.
Her expression of jolly maternal glee awkwardly froze as if in abrupt confusion when the duck bounced blandly off. A question that should have been absurd in any other context broke through into the forefront of consciousness: who was Mr. Biscuits, the family dog? What was Mr. Biscuits?
An uncertain blankness fell across her face like a curtain. She ventured a step forward, heard tilting inquiringly. That a sapient soul had dreamt themselves into the shape and image of... a dog wasn't unheard of, but there was more to it here. So many beings that she chose not to question in the phantom space Livadele now occupied, because this was never about that, but she was increasingly left with no other choice than to drag herself back to awareness. It was one thing after another.
Clearing her throat, Wanda lowered herself to a crouch. She sighed out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. As if breathing had any relevance here. "I don't know why you're here, but..." She paused, brows furrowing together. "Do we know each other?"
There was the vaguest sense of familiarity here, unlike the kind from Agatha or Loki that made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle with mistrust, at least.
Putting this out to announce we'll be having a Moon Destruction Album release coming out the day of the big boom, come pick up a physical album at your local record store or download it off starknet...or just steal I ain't a cop.
basically for those who don't wanna click on the spoiler in my previous status, the short version is that I'll be taking a weeklong (possibly longer or shorter) break from posting and I'm really sorry if you're waiting on me