Advice From Mice

Room 307: Friday afternoon

2008-02-15T20:40:15Z

Coraline was in her room, but she wasn't getting ready for the dance.

She was packing. And looking quite annoyed about it. "I mean, really," she muttered as she carefully slipped her laptop into its special bag. "Abu Dhabi? Of all the places to go."

[ooc: I'm sending Coraline away because, right now, I simply have no time to play her. She'll return for summer term. Post is open for the roomie and the big brother, if he's about.]

Room 307: Late Sunday night

2008-01-21T05:21:26Z

Sure, there were classes tomorrow, but Lucas wasn't back yet, which meant the light wouldn't keep him awake, so Coraline was lying on her stomach, completely engrossed in a book.

Pyjamas, hot chocolate, and her fluffy purple rabbit slippers and she was a happy, and comfy, girl.

[ooc: for the drunken not-really-the-roommate. Oh dear. Shhh, they were never in 207.]

Room 307: Wednesday morning (before classes)

2008-01-16T11:08:25Z

Coraline was deliberately being very quiet as she knelt on her bed, not wanting to disturb Lucas ~~if he was there~~, while she tacked her page of fingerprints to the wall.

She'd think of it as being as quiet as a mouse, but if Mr Bobo wasn't crazy, then mice probably weren't all that quiet, what with the oompah oompah and the toodle oodle. And, Coraline decided, if she started making oompah oompah and toodle oodle sounds, it would be disturbing for far more than just the obvious reason of noise.

Head tilted, she considered the placement of the page. Maybe it needed to move a bit to the right...

[ooc: the door is half-open, the post is completely open, especially for the roommate, though slowplay will be the watchword.]

Room 307: After the picnic

2008-01-05T01:37:32Z

Coraline carried her bags into her room - or rather, their room, she thought to herself - and set them down in the middle of the floor.

Leaving the door open, she carefully opened both closets and all the drawers, and then crouched down to look under both beds. Satisfied there was nothing there that shouldn't be there, she dragged a chair over to the vent and climbed up to peer inside it.

Just in case.

[open, but especially for the roomie!]

OOC: It's Coraline, not Caroline.

2008-01-04T02:42:49Z

Though if you want to call her Caroline, I'm certainly not going to complain!

Coraline Jones comes from a (creepy as all hell) children's novel by Neil Gaiman, called, oddly enough Coraline. She's a young girl who lives with her often very distracted parents in semi-rural England, in a huge old house that's been divided into flats. She has a passion for exploring and an insatiable curiosity.

Coraline is pronounced Cora-LINE (to rhyme with horror wine). Many people call her Caroline instead, and it does frustrate her - but it amuses me quite a bit. Anyone who wants to get her name wrong, and call her Caroline, would make me a happy player!

She's currently fifteen, five foot one, very slight and small for her age (I've chosen Ellen Page for her PB, because the resemblance is quite uncanny) and when she was twelve, she had An Adventure.

The events of the book [HERE BE SPOILERS]

One day, bored because it was raining and she couldn't go outside, Coraline was exploring her new home and discovered a door in the drawing room, one that led nowhere. Now, Coraline knew that every door leads somewhere and, despite the fact that this one apparently opened onto nothing but a brick wall, she was soon proven right.

It led to another world, a shadowy, dark reflection of her house, created and ruled over by the other mother (see icon), a sadistic, pale, sharp version of her mother, with nails like knives and bright black buttons for eyes.

The other mother wanted to keep Coraline forever and ever, and sew buttons over her eyes, and to this end she snatched away Coraline's parents and imprisoned them. If Coraline didn't beat her at a game, she would be trapped forever, to have the life sucked out of her and be left an empty husk of spiderwebs and dried leaves, huddling in the dark, unable to break free because her soul is held captive by the other mother.

But, helped by a cat and using her wits, determination, and a stone with a hole in it, gifted to her by one of her house's odd tenants, she wins the game, overcoming the other mother and escaping back to her world.

Nothing is ever easy, though.

The other mother's disembodied hand, with nails like knives, scuttled into Coraline's world to seek the heavy iron key that would open the door again. Coraline, determined and careful and sure, tricked the hand, and it and the key were lost down a deep well.

What she's like

Coraline is quiet, determined, intelligent and self-possessed, but her defining characteristic is her curiosity, which combines with a certain calm bravery that gets her into - and out of - trouble. If told to stay away from something because it's not safe, she's likely to head right down and check it out, to find out exactly why it's not safe so she can stay away from it properly. She's cautious, but not afraid, and quite sure of herself. If she thinks she's right about something, she'll stand firm on it. She hates it when she's not taken seriously, whether because she's young or she's quiet, and she has a dubious opinion of the amount of sense adults make.

And she's not at all fond of rats. Or spiders.

Coraline is currently being made into an animated movie, with Coraline being voiced by Dakota Fanning. There's some interesting videos up here, and the book has its own webpage here.

If you're curious about her journal name: Mr Bobo, an eccentric old man who lives in the flat above Coraline's, is training a mouse circus. The mice send him with messages for Coraline, giving her advice which is startling accurate. So, advice from mice.

Flitwick, England: Not very long ago

2008-01-03T08:57:06Z

Coraline's father had insisted on making a recipe for dinner. Again. She didn't know what had gotten into him lately. She was eating a meat pie and chips that she'd heated in the microwave.

"Coraline," her mother said. "We've decided to send you to boarding school for the next term."

"It will be good for you," her father added. "And the school is much better than the one in town."

Coraline didn't say anything, just set her fork down and regarded them both solemnly. After a long moment of silence, her parents exchanging a look, she ventured, "I'm not sure I want to go to boarding school."

"It's in America," her mother said. "You'll get to fly on a plane all by yourself."

Coraline thought about that. America. Now that was a place to explore, and she had always wanted to go on a plane. Besides, she wasn't overly fond of the children she went to school with. They were all so boring. "When would I have to go?"

Both of her parents smiled at her. "Soon, but not right away," he father said, and her mother added, "So much shopping to do before you go. They don't wear uniforms, so you'll need new clothes, new hairclips, new shoes."

Coraline wrinkled her nose. Shopping was not one of her favorite things. But if it meant she got to go to America, well... She picked up her fork again. "I don't need new hairclips, and I get to choose the clothes," she said, smiling at them both.

* * *

"Coraline, Coraline!" Mr Bobo waved at her from the top of the stairs when Coraline went out to get the mail.

She sighed but smiled up at him. He always got her name right. "Hello, Mr Bobo."

"The mice have a message for you. They say you should be careful on the island. Things are not what they seem. They were most distressed you were leaving."

Coraline looked at him thoughtfully. She'd never decided if she believed in the mice or not. Some days she knew Mr Bobo was a crazy old man with an circus of imaginary, musical mice; some days she thought she probably did believe the mice were real (but she almost never believed in the circus).

Today seemed to be one of the day she believed. "Tell them I promised I'd be careful," she said as she headed outside.

The information packet for her new school was supposed to be here any day, and she didn't want it to wait in the postbox while she talked to the probably-crazy-but-maybe-not old man.

* * *

"America," breathed Miss Forcible.

"Oh, America," sighed Miss Spink.

"We always meant to go to America, to tread the boards of Broadway, but we never did get there." Miss Spink sighed again.

"You must be careful, Caroline. America is still a wild place," Miss Forcible warned.

"It's Coraline," she replied automatically. "Not Caroline. And I'm going off to school, Miss Forcible. I'm sure it won't be wild at all." Even if she secretly hoped it would be.

She sipped her tea and absently patted the Scottie dog that was drooling on her knee while she imagined all sorts of excitement. All she knew of America was what she'd seen on the television. Which, if even slightly accurate, promised to be far more interesting than the life she was currently leading.

"Never mind, never mind, you never know what's going to happen. You must promise us you'll take the greatest care." Miss Spink got up from her comfortable chair, not as easily as she used to, and toddled over to the fireplace.

When she pulled the familiar jar off the mantelpiece, Coraline almost held her breath. The same odd collection was poured out, resting neatly in Miss Spink's hand: a tiny china duck, a thimble, a strange, brass coin, two paper clips, and a stone with a hole in it.

When Miss Spink, muttering to herself, plucked up the thimble, Coraline almost let out the breath she certainly wasn't holding.

"What's it for?" she asked, the question echoing strangely, as if this small flat, smelling of dogs and furniture polish, remembered the beginning of her last adventure and had decided to helpfully replay bits in case she'd forgotten any of it.

She hadn't.

"You never know when a thimble will come in handy," was the reply as Miss Spink set in her palm, Miss Forcible nodding along in approval.

"And you will write, won't you? We'd love to hear stories of America," Miss Forcible said, eyes surprisingly bright as she watched her.

"I promise," she promised, finishing her tea and standing – quickly, before they could offer to read the leaves. "And now I should go and start packing. Thank you for the tea."

She hugged them both goodbye and, as she left, she realised she'd slipped the thimble over her fingertip.

It fit perfectly.

* * *

Coraline was packed. A compromise had been reached on the clothes, and her father had given her a brand new computer for her very own, which was safely swathed in its special bag.

There was only one thing she needed to do before she left.

Stepping carefully, because it was wild and overgrown, Coraline made her way to the deep, dark well. It was covered over with heavy wooden planks. A tiny spider had spun a web in the sliver of shadow between them, and she poked it cautiously with a stick, sending the spider scuttling for the safety of the darkness.

Coraline nodded in satisfaction. As deep and as dark as the well was, she was confident nothing would ever find its way out.

If she could hear a faint scratching - a scurrying, scuttling noise - she was sure it was only her imagination.

OOC: A Taste of Coraline

2008-01-01T09:29:49Z

A trailer for the book:

An ad for the forthcoming movie

A scene from the forthcoming movie: