The following are raw footage excerpts from Alex Kralie.

Name: Caz
DW username: http://cazrolime.dreamwidth.org
E-Mail: hobbitesque (at) gmail.com
IM: rianofski

Other Characters: N/A

Character Name: Alex Kralie
Series: Marble Hornets
Timeline: From just after the end of Entry 49.
Canon Resource Link: This is his canon. It is great. This is his page on the wiki. It is awful, but that’s what I’m here for.

Character Background: ( And then it gets long. )

Alex's notable CR in Entranceway. This is extremely work in progress. Code very much stolen from aingsty_acts. I've left a few ex-Wonderlanders off who he didn't much know or who have been gone from the mansion for a while, but if you want his opinion on them on here, ask and you will receive. ♠

( Cut for length. )

Alex doesn't have a great number of friends here anyway, and since he's recently been dumped in the mansion at about the one point in several years when he's actually wanted to be at home, he's... not exactly hyped up for the season.

The above paragraph is an extended excuse as to why his non-secret santa list isn't longer.

( The list which is below this cut: for Mark, for Philip and for Philip's dog. )

There's a handheld communicator lying in the snow at the edge of the woods. For several minutes, the feed is just a worm's eye view of white sky and grey branches criss-crossing overhead.

Way, way off, someone has a minor coughing fit.

Several more minutes pass.

Then there are crunching footsteps. As they come closer, so does a faint, high-pitched ring, like a coin rolling around on porcelain. The footsteps stop and the ringing continues.

Alex Kralie picks up the communicator.

His breath's fogging and he's shivering in his t-shirt. There's a small videocamera strapped to his chest. He frowns at the screen with wary bafflement, because what the hell it's suddenly snowy and is he even in the same woods and what the hell did the Operator do now and jesus god it's cold and--

Wait, he recognises this thing. Alex Kralie, meet quickly-returning memories of the mansion.

He swears and throws the communicator back into the snow, ready to stride back into the woods and hope against hope that the transition is reversible if he catches it quickly enough.

It's the third day of the event, and on the screen is Alex Kralie's room if anyone is left alive who would recognise it. The light's been left on for three days straight, the closet door is open, and...

Is that a tiny crocodile waddling across the floor?

No, actually. It's more than thirty inches from nose to tail-tip, and the skinnier one poking its head out of the closet will soon prove to be nearly as big at about twenty-four. The smaller is Mosa, and the larger is Vector.

They've been stashed in the closet since Alex went to hide on the first floor, since it gives them the food and water they need and there was no way he was carrying a giant terrarium down nine flights of stairs complete with miniature lake and everything. It's not clear which of them first thought of escape, but Vector is easily the largest and so he gets to lead the way, at least until he can't be bothered.

While Vector noses around in search of entertainment, Mosa makes a crocodilian dash for the door, because butting it with his snout is definitely no question the way to get the thing open onto the wider world.

Alex and his tiny wasp-shaped camera are finding scenic areas - the maze, the entrance hall, the corridors - and then walking in them.

Just walking, or sometimes standing, gazing off into the distance and looking thoughtful and insightful and all that deep stuff.






This is pretty much the only scene he can think of.

I've seen a few missing persons cases in my time on the job. God knows I have. Bad luck follows me like a hellhound ready to tear off its next meal. And it's the poor chumps around me that get blown down. Least I can do is pick up the pieces.

But this? Naw, this wasn't no regular case. Wouldn't have minded calling this number dead and buried. Don't mind spilling that I had the curse on him worse than the witch on Cinderella. But no luck. The guy had cheated me more times than Harry Houdini.

Now I was told he'd done a runner permanent. I couldn't take that as gospel. Not till I'd seen his floodly footprints with my own two eyes.

I'd looked. The shadows weren't hiding him. Time to see if the people were.

I was wearing out my soles walking the hallway floor. Had a couple of contacts still breathing air. Had my gun and my five senses, too. Couldn't be too careful in this town.

Alex would like to have the light off, because he's that bit more alone than he was before. But he doesn't want to backslide, and he doesn't want to look like he's backsliding. So the light is on. The video is on.

He's locked the feed to Mark, but not so securely that a hacker couldn't get in.

"Mark, uh..."

He stares at his hands on the desk, then at the wall. It feels like he's delivering news of a death.

"Tim's... gone."

Alex Kralie chooses to spend his vacation IN THE LIBRARY!

He's definitely not hiding. Except from Mirror Lamb, and his own mirrorself, and the slenderman on the dancefloor (?!), and... okay. Okay, he's definitely hiding, and he hasn't been back to his room for a few days now. Too many people know where he lives, and thanks to the missing mirror-glass it's far too easily accessible. Thank goodness for the myriad of empty ones.

Interested non-partygoers might find him in a quiet corner, surrounded by reference books, with a camera wasp and a thermos of coffee and a notebook full of aimless scribbles.