where the lost ones go;; OPEN

Coralie wondered where she was. One moment, she was walking in Paris. The next, she woke up, lying down on the floor of somewhere - a tunnel, perhaps? - and she had no idea where she as. All she knew was that this place was grim and creepy and she wanted to get out of here. Maybe she was drunk again - by accident - and she ended up walking to the wrong place.

"'ello?" she called out, her English tainted with her strong French accent. "Where am I?"

Gwen walked slowly through the corridor, sliding her fingers along the wall. The voices had returned, but this time they didn't talk. Right now the voices were screaming, but occasionally she was treated to a soft hum, and if she was lucky, it was a tune that she knew, maybe even that she could sing along to.

Though she didn't always, Gwen enjoyed it when people would scream. It gave her the same pleasure as, say, bubble wrap. Gwen liked bubble wrap.

She felt around in her pocket and, sure enough, there was a small piece that she had taken out of a box somewhere. Eyes filled with childlike glee, she sat down on the floor, placed it in front of her, and began to stare at it in earnest.

Gwen tenderly reached out a hand, one of it's slender fingers extended towards an un-popped bubble. Almost the exact instant her skin made contact, the plastic gave way with a loud smack that echoed across the hallway, interrupting the screaming in her head for just a moment. A wide smile spread across her pale face, and Gwen giggled.

Once again, the screams were halted by the sound of someone's voice. Her head shot up to find the source of the interruption, only to see a woman lying on the cold floor of the tunnel. She tilted her head at the question. It was such a funny question, and yet so very common around here, "I think we're in a castle... No... we're underground... yes... in a floating city."