[ The video starts with the sound of a whipcrack, coming from a young woman who is obviously wielding a whip. There's a hint of annoyance on her face, but not enough to make a normal individual decide that it's a proper time to use a whip. She stretches it over her head, making the leather snap. Then she rolls the whip on her hands with ease before placing it to her side.

If you're starting to get that feeling that you're faced with someone who whips things just because she can, trust that feeling. You're probably right. ]

While I do remember saying that I would go wherever I'm needed, it seems that I wasn't clear enough for the fools who run this failure of a fantasy novel plot. I will go wherever I'm needed provided that I give my prior consent. Gods or not, they're clearly guilty of kidnapping.

[ And as easily as she snapped and put away her whip, she starts to smile. ]

But I suppose I do owe you people an introduction, since it seems like we're all stuck here for the meantime. I am Franziska von Karma, the prodigy prosecutor. I've been told that, despite it's logical impossibility, we might come from different worlds. Should one of you not know what a prosecutor is, I suggest that you educate yourselves in the local library. The lack of color shouldn't hinder your ability to read, unless you're the type of person who requires the aid of silly, colorful illustrations.

I would ask for your names and occupations, but it's only polite to introduce yourselves after being introduced to, isn't it? And it seems like it's customary here to end your first transmission with an inane question on topics such as "look at my inability to read a map and find things for myself" and chicken... nuggets. [ It's clear that she finds the latter topic very strange.] So I ask you this, people of Asgard:

Suppose that you find a box of cake left under the rain. What will you do?


[ Baldr people, she might have whipped a small dent onto one of the kitchen tables. It took a lot of hits. She's not sorry.

Meanwhile, I apologize for asking about cake in the rain. ]

[There's a thought running through Selphie's mind and it's one of those ones that she's been trying to think through on her own but really hasn't had any luck in doing so. Maybe she should ask some of her friends in the house first but something says to talk to some of the others in Asgard as well. She's just not entirely certain on how to explain her thoughts out loud so this post actually takes her quite some time to write out so that it makes sense.]

Say... I've been thinking about something for a few days now and I'd like to hear what some others who may or may not be experiencing the same thing think about this.

Say for example, that there's someone that you've never met before but is convinced that they know you and even knows the names of some of the people that you grew up with. How do you manage to convince them that you're not the person that they think you are? Furthermore, what if the person that they think you are looks a lot like you to the point that it being a super freaky coincidence isn't going to cut it?

[Jack is sitting at in an arm chair, slumped a little and looking completely bored. Even living underground in Cardiff had been more exciting than this.]

Is there anything exciting going on beside more people arriving?

[Walking around a dull grey city only does so much for a guy.]

[When the video feed cuts in, it's to a quietly smug, slightly amused man. He looks to be in his late thirties/early forties, with long black hair and a surprisingly fit body for a man his age. His shirt also seems to refuse to close  properly, buttoned close only a few inches above his navel]

What a surprisingly cute maid. Not much of a talker, though, which is a shame. Nothing makes a later cuter than a warm personality.

[He gives a smirk at the camera, though it's less antagonizing and more friendly than anything] Anyone willing to help out an old man? I'm looking for a blondie named 'Cherry'.

[A pause] He prefers it if you call him 'Charles'.

[Have a harried looking elementary school kid, Asgard. Conan looks severely put upon. His apron is too big and too pink. As if that wasn't enough, he's got a smudge of cupcake batter on one cheek and hasn't quite managed to get all the flour off his shirt.]

... never thought I'd be doing this.

Okay. For anyone confused, Cupcakes. A small cake, usually topped with icing and decorated with any manner of confectionary. In other words, it's a dessert.

First you make the cake part. Second you wait for it to cool and make the icing. Finally, you decorate. Since this is a competition, I probably shouldn't get into too much detail, but there's a couple of things that I think people need to know.

Namely, things that do not usually go in cupcakes -- things like vegetables, animal fat, arsenic. Everyone got that? Good.

ETA: Laundry powder is not for cooking with. In fact, if it's not already in the kitchen, don't put it in your food. And if it is in the kitchen, but you don't recognise it? Ask a responsible housemate.

((ooc: Hel housemates, the arsenic reference is not aimed at anyone in particular (unless you want it to be). I just figured that Hel's kitchen has to have a few suspect bottles floating around and Conan's got to have something to bitch about. So yes, please ignore Conan and merrily poison as many cupcakes as your hearts desire~!

eta: Sorry guys! Notifications are going astray. I hope I haven't left anyone waiting too long, but sorry if I have -- definitely wasn't intentional.))