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[b][color=662d91]Arcana:[/color][/b] Hanged Man
[b][color=662d91]Time/Date:[/color][/b] Middle of the night >> ???
[b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b] His bedroom >> Some strange place
[b][color=662d91]Mentions:[/color][/b] The White Rabbit, Alice, Snow Cecil, Chase River
[b][color=662d91]Interaction:[/color][/b] Cronic [@CronicCrystalis]
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The first thought that flashed through his mind was: [i][color=662d91]This ain't my bed.[/color][/i]

Next came that classic little line from 'The Wizard of OZ'. Liam wholly blames sleep-deprivation, disorientation and mild dizziness for that thought.

Blinking grey spots away from his vision, he took a second to register the feel of soft ground pressing against his back and the cool moist sensation seeping through his T-shirt. Yeah, definitely doesn't feel like his bed. Breathing in deeply once, he didn't catch the familiar, faint artificial blackberry-scented freshener in the air. Instead, he is met with the smell of fresh earth and a myriad of aromas that wouldn't be out of place in a national park. Grass tickled his palms as he braced them flat on the earth to push himself up into a sitting position before leisurely getting to his feet. Noticing the jeans and sneakers he was sporting, Liam frowned. Groggy as he was, he clearly recalled changing into his sleepwear before hitting the sack.

So what was this? A dream? A hallucination? The grass and soil felt rather real. His texture of his clothes and the weight of his shoes too. His mind certainly wasn't capable of conjuring such realism. Unless whatever is happening is similar to [i]that event[/i] a few year ago...

The frown turns into a scowl as he shoves that train of thought away. He didn't have time for this. He had so many things to do. Taking care of the kids, finish looking over the pile of stuff his grandfather left for him, going through all the emails from various interested parties regarding the P3 Syndrome. 

Exhaling a quiet sigh, he takes the time to study the other individuals in the same situation, all in various stages of awareness and attentiveness. Most were around his age, judging by appearance alone, but there were a couple of adults. Liam scrunched his nose lightly as the gentleman in a bartender outfit - he assumes, at least - a few paces to his right puffs on a stick of cigarette, the strong scent of tobacco wafting towards his nose. And of course, the bunny. A white rabbit in a fancy coat that walked on its hind legs like a human and talked. Yeah, he wasn't hearing things. It talked. 

From this distance, he could distinctly hear the short exchange between the rabbit - seriously...[i]'The White Rabbit'[/i]...rip-off Wonderland, anyone? - and the woman rubbing its head, as well as the monologue from a blonde kid and various other short exclamations or snippets of murmured words arising from the group gathered here for reasons unknown. 

[color=662d91]"Haven't got the faintest clue."[/color] Liam murmurs in reply to the brown-haired man's question as he crossed his arms. Gaze flickering between his unfamiliar surroundings and the walking, talking bunny, he lets out a low, humourless scoff. [color=662d91]"Besides this being a cheap parody of "Alice in Wonderland", that is. I mean, we've got the White Rabbit over there. Now all we need to do is wait for it to pull out a stopwatch and start running away before following it down a hole and I guess we'll find out."[/color]