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27 December 2011 @ 03:23 pm

[She felt the familiar reiatsu’s upon her arrival, yet the only one of importance was missing—Mayuri’s. Two days of searching for her Captain yielded no sign of his passing either through the town or the Forge. The network held a wealth of information, easy to extract, yet his presence remained obscured. Yet… there was still one avenue left to explore. By now, her riatsu should have been detected or soon would be, and with no sign of her father or orders to follow, the Lieutenant did the only thing left to her.

The feed turned on recording the even gaze of a young woman. She stared directly into the camera with a neutral façade.]

12th Division Lieutenant of the Gotei 13. [She might not know Mayuri-sama’s whereabouts but maybe the present shinigami did.] Kurotsuchi Nemu.

[Her hands were set demurely in front of her, a contrast to the firm voice she used.]

I seek information on Mayuri-sama.

 
 
26 December 2011 @ 10:47 pm
[IT'S A BALL OF FLUFF IN HOTARU'S HANDS! It's a little hamster and Hotaru looks completely overjoyed; so overjoyed, she's got tears in her eyes.]

I- I never... got a Christmas present outside of papa.

[She's about ready to cry when she says that. Quickly, she recovers and cups the little tan hamster in her hands.]

I- I don't know what to call her... I-

Thank you, Priscilla-san. I will take good care of her.
 
 
26 December 2011 @ 09:55 am
[The Forge pans around a familiar area to its current residents, that wonderfully generic kitchen and its wonderfully generic food. All the windows of the little apartment are wide open and the last of a billowing cloud of smoke can be seen wafting out of the window. Notice how the view of the camera takes careful measures to avoid the stove. Eventually it turns back around to face a kid who looked incredibly guilty and somewhat annoyed.

But after a moment or two of quietly dealing with being annoyed, he speaks.]


I can stand waking up to a weird as hell place and being placed in a nicer jail cell than before. I can even try to understand whatever messed up logic you have about food. [And he holds up one of the generic snacks. He didn't even like those, damn it.] But at least leave me with some pots and pans! A spatula would be nice!

[Each time he spoke, his pointed teeth showed through.] ... And before you say "they were there", well they were. But they sort of broke.

[And that stove that's been avoided? He finally turns the camera to face it. The poor stove was a blacked mess. But the stove top was a-okay! ...It wasn't his fault that he turned on the oven before checking to see if there were any useful things inside of it!]

... I think I also broke the door. [It wasn't on purpose. He hadn't expected it to be so fragile. And. He was sort of freaking out about the burning kitchen utensils and... well, Forge zooms towards the door, to show the damage there. It's not so bad, right? Right?]

So... since a jail cell can't have a broken door, I'll just leave. [He waves to the Forge (see ya people!) and stuffs it into his pocket.]
 
 
26 December 2011 @ 03:15 am
[The forge blinks on in the middle of a little girl’s very exuberant giggle. It’s obviously Yachiru for anyone who knows her - the pink hair and rosy cheeks are a dead giveaway if the laugh isn’t - but this is not her forge number. In all likelihood, it belongs to the mountain of a man on whose shoulder she is perched.

Maybe some of you recognize that forge number, it’s an old one. Even if you don’t, the answer is soon revealed. The forge screen is brought to an extreme close up of a scarred ear. A deep voice rumbles with a touch of a laugh.]


You need to work on your aim, kid.

Oh, wait!

[She somehow shifts herself forward, draping herself in what should be a precarious position for any normal child, and joining her excessively cheerful face on the screen is the rest of the head that goes with that scarred ear. The most noticeable thing is the eyepatch the man wears, next would be the scars, or maybe the hairless brows. Should the forge screen allow, his hair is done up in spikes that defy gravity and logic. The face wears a grin.]

That’s better! Now everybody can see that you’re back, Ken-chan! See, see!

[It’s amateur cameraman time as she takes the Forge in one little hand and draws it close in to his face - much closer than necessary - and then far away, like a handmade zoom feature. The belled ends of his spiked hair appear for a moment, and then all you can see is the bridge of his nose. She laughs like a tiny, ecstatic maniac.]

LOOK EVERYBODY! KEN-CHAN IS BACK! I said he’d come back, didn’t I? ‘Cause Ken-chan would never leave me here all by myself if he could help it, right, Ken-chan?

Heh, ‘course not, kid.

[She’s got her arms around his neck in the best approximation of a bear hug someone of her size can give and she pretty much looks like the happiest kid in the world. Kenpachi puts up with it because if fact he loves it too. He looks into the camera with the uncovered eye and bares his teeth in a smirk.]

So, hope yeh guys got stronger, cause I have. And I’m going to take you all on! [He laughs.]

Yeah! Scilly, you should fight him again! That was a good fight! And Isie, too! He’s been teaching me how to shoot a bow and arrow, Ken-chan, and he’s really strong! And Icchi should fight! Ken-chan always has fun fighting Icchi! And Au-rin even though he’s not that strong! [That mischievous grin is just for you, Arthur.]And everybody! Everybody should come fight with Ken-chan because it’s fun!

[AND SHE’S STILL GIGGLING. The hand not holding the Forge up to see both their faces is now latched onto his ear. Not because she needs a handhold or anything of the sort. Just because it’s there. Looks like she’s pulling on it pretty hard, too.]

Knock it off! That hurts!

[A large hand bats her little one away from the ear. There’s no real force in it but hopefully she’ll get the picture. He grumbles, a bit put upon.]

Can’t escape that wherever I go.

[She just giggles and gives it another tug.]

Everybody is going to be so happy you’re back! I told everybody all about you, Ken-chan! Especially Xerbie! Oh oh! We have to go home right now so you can meet Xerbie right away! Look, Xerbie, Ken-chan’s back! Ken-chan’s back! I can’t wait for you to meet him!

Fine. Lead the way. [Meaning they’ll get there sometime next year, knowing her.]And stop pulling on my ear!

Okay, let’s go!

[She gives another tug on his ear, as if she is pulling the chain on a train whistle. She even makes a happy squealing nose that could almost approximate the sound that should come from doing such a thing.]

This way, Ken-chan!

[The hand makes an appearance again, this time reaching for the Forge, a giant palm covering the screen. A button fumble or two later, it’s shut off. He really doesn’t need a video of them getting lost on the way home.]
 
 
[filtered from isobel. h8 you mom.]

[This is Elena Gilbert. Young, pale, wide-eyed, and utterly unsure of where she is, what this is, or what's going on. A hand pushes and worries through her hair. A gauzy bandage is taped to her neck. Her voice is strained with determination (desperation? she's not sure of the difference right now, lately) for answers.]

I need to-

[She swallows and there's a pause in which all other words get stuck in her throat. Get home. Last she remembers, she was at the hospital, and a nurse was taking her blood and sedating her. For Klaus. Elena's lips purse and she shakes her head. She's steeling herself, because she can't be this: shaken by everything that's happened. (Not when Klaus is probably out there, responsible for this.

Why would he leave her a phone? And Caroline's here, and Damon… But there's Isobel. Maybe this is -- maybe this isn't Klaus. She doesn't know.) Elena looks back to the Forge.
]

I need answers. If you have any. It would mean a lot. I've been looking… [through the network.] This is a city. Anatole? My name's Elena.

[private to caroline and damon]
Caroline, Damon -- please, if you see this. I'm in some room. I don't know where.
 
 
 
[So remember this dumbass who was yelling about bunnies but not actually referring to rabbits the other day? Well, he's back. This time, in the clinic. What's visible of his torso, hands, arms, neck, and part of his face can be seen wrapped in bandages, a clue towards the very stupid thing he attempted to do that landed him here.

But Kotetsu looks in pretty good spirits about it anyway, and the Forge is sitting against a makeshift table/writing board on his lap, where he seems to be writing out a card. Next to it is a...very shoddily wrapped present with a crooked bow. Don't judge him, okay, manual dexterity is hard when your fingers are bandaged. Especially when you're ordinarily clumsy anyway.

When he finishes the card, he sets it on top of the box, both of which he then moves to the bedside table before addressing the Forge.]


I understand Anatole brings in people from a bunch of different places. [Worlds, even. He still needs some time to process that one.]

So I was wondering...what do all of you do for the holidays where you're from? Do any of you celebrate Christmas?

Maaa, back home, we have Christmas trees decked with lights all around, and there's a mall with a skating rink and a clocktower with a date countdown.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a good time, whether or not you celebrate.

[...he's. kind of worried about Barnaby dealing with today alone, honestly, but that's neither here nor there, so he doesn't bring it up.]

Oi, that reminds me. Miata, Ginko, Renji, and...Tabitha? [He's. checking his cards just to make sure he got the right names.] I got a few small things for you as thanks and Merry Christmas, if you wouldn't mind coming by to pick them up. Otherwise I can see about having someone here drop them off, but I wouldn't want to trouble them too much.

[A little. Self-deprecating chuckle from someone who tends to get himself injured a lot.]

...Aa, if anyone knows a girl with green hair, I'd appreciate it if you could send her my way, as well. I kind of owe her more than a thank-you.
 
 
24 December 2011 @ 09:57 pm
[There's no uncertain fiddling with the Forge when it turns on for the first time. It may not be held entirely steady, but the guy holding it seems to know what he's doing.]

[He also seems like he very recently had the shit kicked out of him, but if he minds it at all, it doesn't immediately show. Instead he just looks at the Forge as if it was the cause of all current problems and then gives a short, sharp laugh.]


You and me again, Anatole?

You got some nerve.

[That grin probably means he's glad to see you again. Maybe. It's totally not covering up a wince of pain.]
 
 
24 December 2011 @ 01:30 am
[Ginko isn't looking at the Forge when it comes on--he appears to be sketching something. After a moment he says,]

So everyone knows, I'm working at the Clinic now. My name is Ginko, for those who haven't met me yet.

To the newcomers... welcome to Anatole. It's an interesting place, by all accounts.

[A slight pause, before he looks directly at the Forge for the first time since the video came on.]

Does anyone know how often this... surge of new people happens? [The question is asked with a curious sort of caution, but his curiosity has overwhelmed his caution temporarily... and no one's warned him away from asking questions yet, so.]
 
 
24 December 2011 @ 01:52 am
I swear...

I am not back here.

This has to be a bad dream.

Just...I can't even.
 
 
Current Mood: cranky
 
 
23 December 2011 @ 12:54 am
[As the Forge is turned on, it slips a bit through wet slicked fingers and slides onto the teen's lap, showing a fumble of images: wavy golden hair, a long white scar down a neck that's inked with strange black patterns that look like curling flames poking out from beneath a black collar.  Darkened patches on the black fabric that look suspiciously like blood.  Lots of blood.  He wipes his hand on his thigh and picks the Forge up again, peering into it with eyes dramatically tinged with gold.  No, it's not Edward Cullen.   One eyebrow steeples as he examines the device.

His voice is wary, but doesn't sound afraid in the least.  If anything there's a haughty humor to his tone.]


...The last time I checked Portals didn't take wrong turns.

[He presses a few buttons on the device, turning it side to side before facing the screen towards himself again, looking more intrigued]   And kidnappers generally don't offer generous texting packages.

[Something hardens behind his eyes, the amusement taking a dangerous edge, as he demands:]  Where's the vampire?
 
 
 
22 December 2011 @ 11:36 pm
[The first sound the Forge makes is a short whoosh of air, followed by a soft thud. The holder has dropped it, being as he is both incredibly disoriented and a bit tired. The screen is dark; it's landed face-down. There is a brief silence, before the sound of footsteps, muffled and hesitant.]

--what is... Oz-kun? Have you run out on me?

[A rustle of clothing, then the Forge is picked up; the screen moving dizzily up and down and sideways as the holder turns it over in his hands. What is this weird thing. Why does he have it. His frown, tight and thin, is visible over a high collar -- complete with skinny bowtie, what a dweeb -- although the angle is somewhat off. But the Forge can't distract him long, and he looks up at his surroundings instead.]

Vincent? ... [again, with more sternness:] Vincent.

[No answer, of course. The Forge tilts up again as he moves to look at something else -- a big monstrous-looking thing, in fact. It stares down at the boy holding the Forge and he shakes his head at it. His tone seems unsure of whether it wants to be clipped and icy or exasperated while he... talks..... to the big monster thing.]

It's no use, Jabberwock. Someone must have done something to us; I don't know this place at all.

[Then he flinches; Jabberwock lets out a low growl, and he waves his hand at it; the thing seems to just ... fade, and the boy looks at the Forge again. He finally realizes it's doing something, although he isn't sure what, but -- what the hell, right? He smiles, dark eyes betraying his annoyance at. Uh. Whatever's happening here.]

I was in the middle of an important conversation, you know. Isn't it a bit rude to interrupt like that?
 
 
22 December 2011 @ 10:49 pm

[ The small screen of the Forge flickers into life to reveal a head and shoulders image of a neat, slender man dressed in uniform white. Oh the surface he appears cool, level-headed, relatively unperturbed by his sudden upheaval, although the too-smooth lines of his face are void of emotion and there's no warmth in those amber eyes. If anything he seems a combination of disappointed and mildly irritated—he steeples the tips of gloved fingers beneath his chin before directing his gaze into the core of the camera. ]

... To be expected to be able to work under such conditions is, quite frankly, a little insulting.

[ Szayel tilts his head, eyes roving around the poky room with ill-concealed disdain. ]

Although no battles were ever won through complaints alone. [ He nudges the frame of his mask a little further up his nose. ] ... Ah. Forgive me, perhaps I should have began with a formal introduction. My name is Szayel Aporro Granz, Octava Espada, Primary Researcher and Spiritual Weapons Developer for Hueco Mundo.

[ He leans a little closer, his smile as unsettling as it is innocuous. A sheaf of candy-pink hair slips forwards to veil a calculating eye. ]

And I would like to know what's going on, if it isn't too much trouble.

 
 
22 December 2011 @ 10:25 pm
[ There is an inhuman eye taking up the whole screen of the forge. The pupil is solid black, the eyeball is an eerie yellow, and the surrounding skin is pale grey, smeared haphazardly in places with white greasepaint. ]

Woah...

[ And the owner of the eye pulls back, revealing an odd-looking young man — or troll, as is actually the case — humanoid but alien, messy dark hair, high orange goats' horns, pale clown makeup smeared over his grey face and three jagged cuts sliced from his left brow, across his eyes, and down to his right cheek. The crusted blood, long-dried, is purple. His eyes are heavy-lidded, complacent, a hint of a smirk playing around his fang-filled mouth. ]

There is some wicked shit all up in this motherfucking place, bro. I thought I'd seen all the things there all are for me to see and then some, but now I've up and realized I haven't ever seen any motherfucking thing. Look at this shit, man. Just look at it.

[ Seemingly savvy as to how the Forge works, he pans the camera around the room: it's one of the standard Outislander Community Block apartments. There is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it. When Gamzee turns the camera back onto the oddest thing in the room, himself, his eyes are glassy with wonder. ]

No wonder, no fucking wonder the mirthful messiahs talked all that shit about getting all up in the paradoxspace of the paradise planet. Do you think that's where we are now, motherfucking best friend? Did some supreme honking miracle just up and take us all right off to the new motherfucking universe with all the sweet human loot we could desire?

Yeah, I feel in my horns, there's only one explanation: it's a motherfucking miracle.

Honk.

[ Yeah, that isn't a horn, he actually just ... says the word honk. Like a bad goose impression. ]
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 09:48 pm
[ taking place some time after this.

The Forge flickers on. A bright-eyed girl is looking into the screen, curly hair framing a gentle smile. She's wearing a Victorian men's jacket (sorry, Renly, you'll never get it back again) over what appears to be a wedding dress. Ulterior motives? Of course she has none. ]


I do hope that you won’t scare off newcomers. [ laugh ] I’ve never even imagined a place such as this could exist, all gears and cogs and curiosities. I’d scarcely set foot outside before marvelling at the newness of it all – and this wonderful contraption, too! Addressing so many people by simply talking into a box. One of you must show me the other wonders of this city; it seems so wonderful.

[ There is a faraway look in her eyes before she renews her smile.]

I’m Margaery Tyrell, and I do hope to meet all of you.

[ And despite the jacket, she shivers slightly. ]

I don't suppose someone could tell me where to find warmer clothes? I -- was not prepared for winter to come so soon.
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 09:45 pm
[Well hello there other forge users. This is one very unimpressed teenage girl on the screen. She actually thinks this is the audio function but failed at selecting the correct option. She didn't like the idea of a bunch of strangers seeing her albino features... Whoops. The poor dear doesn't deal with technology very often.

At least her message is brief. Very brief.]


I don't care about whatever is happening in this world or not. It's none of my business and I don't care for it to be. I'm still sleepy and I want to nap.

[On the last sentence her tone finally shifts from uninterested to mild annoyance and she glares at the device. She shouldn't be sleepy here. This isn't the prison, there should be nothing holding her back. Whether she should be or not, she yawns anyway.]
 
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 10:13 pm
[It doesn’t take him long to figure it out-- the little gadget at his side doesn’t look much different from the one he kept losing track of at home. Shaundi was pretty good at digging it out from between couch cushions, scraping it free from beneath the passenger side seat of his car, sticky and often flashing with messages he likely should have seen hours ago...

... alright. He wasn’t always the most organized, but dammit phones are small now. So he loses ‘em sometimes.

Maybe a couple times a month. This is why he has underlings, see: they didn’t mind keeping track of the shit he can’t be bothered to.]



Okay... it... looks like it’s on. Stuff’s blinking. Can anyone hear me?


[Yeah, it’s on. Video and all. See your new playmate, Anatole? The makeup’s a little over-the-top, perhaps slightly clownish. He licks painted lips before speaking again, blinking dark-shadowed eyes at the screen. Definitely looks like a woman, definitely sounds like a man.]


Listen, I think I got ditched here. If anyone sees this or... or hears this... I’ve gotta get the fuck home before people start pooping their Pampers, ‘kay? Someone tell me how to do that, and I won’t start randomly bricking windows.


[No joke.]


I’m at... uh. [crap] Does this thing have a number?? How the fuck do I check voicemail?! [The view is of a thigh now, wrapped in fishnet. Obviously he’s let his hand drop, confusion of the place setting in just a little more now.]


Shit. Like I really fucking needed this...
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 07:04 pm
[First the video is focused on nothing too informative -- a torso, clad in white, with a hand tapping the screen. Stitches on the wrist.]

... Aha. ☆

So it does work!

[He flips the video up to his face, beaming and so friendly and don't mind that little glint of anger, there, it's gone now. He is so cheerful and unassuming, if a bit off.]

I'm, ah- [it doesn't even matter, just pick what's easy to remember--] Sakigami Toto. Mockingbird. Call me "Toto," please. I'm sure we'll all get along!

[How droll. He lifts a finger to his chin, tapping once, twice.]

Hey, how good are you people with missing persons? Now that I'm here I need to look for someone, but I don't know where to start! ☆
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 03:57 pm
O-oi! What the--this isn't--where...?

[Kotetsu is standing in the middle of a room that is very much not the car showroom in which he and Barnaby were just arguing about damage fines, and he looks.
Confused. And annoyed. The Forge is lying on the floor where he accidentally knocked it over from the bedside table after waking up in the unfamiliar bed, still in his hero suit. He hasn't yet noticed it to be recording.]


Bunny? Oi, Bunny, where did you go? Bunny?!

Buuuuuunnnnyyyyyyyy?

[Because obviously, if he yells loud enough, Bunny will hear him, right?]
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 06:22 pm
[This is going to be one of those videos where the Forge is video-recording the inside of an animal's mouth. It's pretty gross, actually, and brief shots of the floor and the ceiling of an outworlder apartment can be seen as the perpetrator rotates it. But it's mostly dark with shots of herbivorous teeth every now and then...accompanied with gross sloppy saliva sounds and...bleating.
It goes on for about a minute before a muffled outside voice is heard, and suddenly there's a wave of light as it's yanked out of the animal's mouth.
]

Djali. You shouldn't try to eat things that aren't...well...[The Forge is turned over in the speaker's hand, and there's a shot of bright green eyes before it's brought down to reveal a whole face.] edible. [A brief moment of darkness again as she wipes it clean with her dress. She gives it a closer look, quirking an eyebrow, and then she sets it on the bed. Her voice is distant now, like she's away from the bed looking out of a window or something.]

We don't even know where we are. But this definitely doesn't look like the inside of the Palace of Justice...[The sound of a curtain being pulled back.] In fact, I don't even think we're in Paris anymore...
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 05:18 pm
[Private to Matt Donovan]
Matt. We need talk. It's really important.

[Private to Damon Salvatore]
What are we going to do about her?

[Private to Nathan Drake]
Are you any good at making weapons?

[Private to Tyrion Lannister]
I need your help with something.
 
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 05:41 pm
[Loras is standing on the sidewalk near the outlander housing. he looks a bit cold in his white armor and cloak, but he favors the Forge with a bright smile.]

What a charming city. I would have preferred warmer weather, but I suppose that can't be helped. Still, it is pretty enough in the snow.

[he ducks his head slightly]

My name is Loras Tyrell. I would like to learn more of this place, if it please you. Perhaps some among you might know where I ought to direct my inquiries? Any assistance would be greatly appreciated.

[and he lifts his head again.]

I look forward to making your acquaintance, and I wish you all a pleasant day.
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 11:44 pm
[Anatole. You are being stared at most seriously. But if you look closely you can tell that there's more than just determination in the face looking at you – much effort is going into simply staying conscious. You only see a face; but it's pale, covered with perspiration and clearly belongs to a man lying down, looking sideways. From the looks of him you might guess it's because he lacks the ability to move. Despite that, his voice never wavers.]

Magic Mirror. What is this place? Where am I? Where is my Snow? My Emma? Is this the curse?

[He speaks quickly, urgently. As if he doesn't know how long he could hold on to hear the answers, breathing heavily the whole time]
 
 
[ When she does address the network, Isobel has a cool, yet calculating, maybe even friendly? Smile. Because, not long after waking up, survival mode kicked in. She's perused the Forge. She doesn’t see signs of Klaus. But she recognizes three people. No, Matt, you're not getting a shoutout. ]

Hello, Anatole.

[ She looks off to the side. ]

There are parallels. To, Alice in Wonderland. Or, is that, Alice: Through the Looking Glass. That one was darker. I seem to have fallen down a rabbit hole. Funny, I don’t remember chasing one.

[ Stefan is the vampire that likes rabbits. Or, he used to. He was drinking human blood now. Good thing he got that little problem under control.
You can bet she knows how to work a lock. But, what fun would locking things be? That, and, she hasn't figured out how to, yet. But, like she'd admit that. ]


Damon Salvatore. You wouldn’t mind filling in an old friend. I do appreciate when I know what’s going on.

[ Hell, she always knows what’s going on. This? Not knowing what’s going on? Pisses her off. But, she does peruse the network.
And another lock... when she learns how to lock. ]


Caroline? Do you remember me? I came up to you at school and you went on and on about your friend, Elena. I’d appreciate some of that enthusiasm.

[ There doesn’t seem to be reason for another specific message. Especially, since her daughter doesn't seem to be here. ]

If anyone is wondering? immolation hurts like a bitch.
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 08:59 am
Hello.

My name is Yukio Okumura, I am the current head of the Japanese Branch of the Vatican, as well as the current ranking Paladin. If it is not too much of a trouble, I would like to place an inquiry pertaining to my whereabouts as well as a low-level search warrant for a dangerous youth. This is for your own protection,please contact me immediately if anyone has seen or heard of anyone going by the name of Rin Okumura.

Thank you for you time and patience.
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 10:57 am
[Hello, Anatole. A new face appears over the Forge network: a young girl with long, blue hair, and a half-smile. Her expression reads something like "are you serious?" and it's almost a full minute before she speaks.]

What a rude way to greet your guest. I won't even mention that you dragged me away from such an important game board. Or, maybe I will. If I'm not taken back to that game, as the Witch of Truth, I guarantee it! I'll jab you with chopsticks until you do as I say.

[Her smile is so pleasant-looking, though.] Now. While I'm waiting for you to return me, why don't I introduce myself? Because if you had known that I am Furudo Erika, the great detective, then you definitely wouldn't have made such an idiotic mistake.
 
 
 
21 December 2011 @ 09:02 am
[The only sound for a moment in this view of the snowy streets outside the Door proper-- no figure in view-- is the wind whistling. The only motion is a flurry of snowflakes, before the camera lurches and twists. A blurry flash of green is visible until it's just a close-up of reddish-violet eyes, bright with a mixture of emotion and irritation as her breath floats before her in cloudy puffs and snowflakes settle in her lashes.

Hello again, Anatole. She's missed you these past ten years.]


I don't know if there's been any headway on who's behind these little trips we've all taken, but for heaven's sake, is the snow really necessary? Every time!

[It appears Asellus hasn't missed the snow, though. That's hardly a surprise, though; the last time she'd come through this door had been a very similar day, with cold winds and icicles and patches of slippery black ice on the roads. She'd been just as disgruntled back then.]

...I don't suppose anyone I know is still here. It has been... a long time, for some of you. [The view shifts, bringing most of her into focus. She looks-- well, not physically older, but decidedly more steady, her hair a bit long and her clothing conservative; dark slacks and a white tunic with a gold breastplate, thighguards, gauntlets-- all rose-molded armor beginning to rime with frost, and knee high boots. It's clear she hasn't been in the diplomat's arena in some time; she's not as pale as she once was and her form is more compact, more like she's been working hard.

Sometimes she's a diplomat. For the past seven years, she's been a general. The assurance in her movements is clever acting but not fully-felt, and she's out of her element, as Anatole always seems to put her.]


Of course, this place... never changes, does it. [A pause, and a moue of displeasure.] There's no way my flowers have survived this cold.
 
 
20 December 2011 @ 10:39 pm
-see shit in front of me.

[It begins with one eloquent Claymore, traveling through a deeper part of the mist from the looks of it. To one side, a glimpse of gold, armor and hair and the man belonging to both moving at a casual, almost bored pace.]

How is it that such a pretty mouth says such vulgar things on a regular basis.

Ha! Sorry, I had no idea you had such virgin-huh? What is it?

[He's stopped moving and holds up a gloved hand to signal for an unseen Helen to do the same.]

I believe I heard something...

[And his hand changes, forming a sword just as something large and humanoid opens its eyes in the mist. A tentacle lashes out, and Jaime slices right through it.]

Son of a bitch. I didn't even sense it.

[The sound of metal on metal as she draws her sword, preparing to do what her kind do - namely, kill yoma. But something stops her in place.]

H-hey! I don't think that's a yoma!

[Jaime takes a step in retreat as a mouth opens beneath the eyes, like a cave with teeth or the exaggerated grin of the cheshire cat. Suddenly there's the hint of wings and more tentacles lashing out at the pair.]

[One strikes the forge, and the feed goes black.]


((Bold = Jaime))
 
 
20 December 2011 @ 02:48 pm
Just when you think this place might be taking a break from all the crazy, it slaps you in the face with those dreams again, and monster attacks and...date auctions.

[That's where Bobby's real disbelief really is.]

Did some girl actually bid on Sam?

[And win. He sighs. Bobby knows he's a good guy with a decent head on his shoulders. But talk about baggage.]

Guess I could throw in a couple of embarrassin' stories from when he was a kid, just to sweeten the deal.

And while we're on the subject of horrible things, anyone else get a good look at that thing out in the mist?
 
 
20 December 2011 @ 12:19 pm
[Filtered from Ukitake]

[Today, Kyouraku looks quite cheerful as he looks into the Forge (despite his continuing inability to procure a straw hat or pink haori). But that can't dampen his mood, because he has a message.]

So, tomorrow is Ukitake's birthday. Of course, I'll be throwing a party tomorrow evening, and all are invited to come...once I figure out where to hold it, of course. Any suggestions about the location, or anything else are more than welcome.
 
 
[ It's an intentional post, at least! That's good, and indeed, when the feed is flicked on, Nill favors the Forge with a smile and even a small little wave from the comfort of sitting cross legged on her bed before she pauses to type something. ]

[ Her fingers make soft tap sounds on the devices front before a small segment of text pops up on the feed. And it reads; ]


look at this .

[ The blond turns her back to the network for a moment - ]

[ (those unfamiliar with her may notice the small, dainty, angelic wings that seem to perk of their own accord, as apposed to as a costume piece might do so mechanically... Come to think of it, were there even mechanical costumes around Anatole? With devices such as the Forge, no doubt it was...capable, but was it really the fashion? ...No. Not where she came from either - not an acceptable fashion, anyway.) ]

[ - to bend offscreen and retrieve a small doll that bears striking resemblance to a certain someone from her home. She holds the doll in one hand and picks a flowery dress in the other; pink with messily sewn white trim. Nill displays both before her Forge, a rather excited smile curving her lips despite an attempt to keep her features somewhat straight and calm. ]

[ A doll and a doll dress. What else is one to do with them than to put the doll in the dress? Male while it might be, she does her best to pull the dress on over the clothes it already wore. The Badou-dolls head seemed to fit the neck of the dress well enough, but when it came time to push its arms through the sleeves, she seemed to encounter a...small problem. ]

[ And you see, small problems are problematic, especially when diligently working at them only proves to worsen the problem, for no matter how much the petite child works to worm the stuffed arms into their proper places, it only seems that the doll dress tightens until -]

[ riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip ]

[ All along a seam, the stitches seem to snap, and the fluffy side of the doll all but explodes from the (now ruined) doll dress, which now looked more like a decorative handkerchief than any article of clothing... ]

[ ... :( ]

[ Nill's face fell - her happy expression ripped like the thread in the seams. At first she's shocked, an open book of surprise and sad astonishment before her thin shoulders sagged with disappointment. Her wings drooped with the rest of her body, and perked up as Nill raised her eyes. Her face suddenly colored in embarrassment and she pitched forward on the bed she sat upon to shut off the Forge in a flourish of mortification and awkward distress. ]

[ feed terminated ]