But... why is it so dark?

( private | unhackable )


[private | Umi, Watanuki, Allen, Yuuko, Mokona, Kobato, Hiro, Doumeki, Clare | unhackable]

I'm-- Sorry. For some of the things I said the other day while I was cursed. I wouldn't have normally said some of that. I'll make it up to you all, I promise.


[/private]


I really hope everyone's okay after those curses. Some of them looked really bad this time. And, Kaoru-san, I wanted to ask you something when you get a chance?



[ooc; a very slow kickstart to mentioned plot. And anyone she apologized to, expect your choice of soba or udon meals delivered by one (1) loli in person B| And I hate to post and run, but I have some errands I need to run so I'll be back in a few hours ;A; Just wanted to get this in now fasufj ]

Time is a very, very strange thing. People think of it like a straight line and if you go back and change things a new line branches off. All that nonsense about there being an infinite number of realities that are based on the different choices that people make is just rubbish. Sure there are alternate realities but not an infinite number.

Things happen a certain way. Welllll, most things. Some things you can change and really, it doesn't make that big of a difference. Sort of like those Special Editions of Star Wars. Suuuuuure if Greedo shoots first it changes the character of Han Solo a bit but the overall story doesn't change.

Things in the universe, things in Time, are like that. Some things have to happen a certain way so that everything else can happen. That's why tampering with Time is so dangerous unless you know what's supposed to happen and what isn't.

I do apologize for my attitude with you yesterday, Yumeno-kun, Carl-san. Heh. I was an... odd child, you could say. I am thankful you looked after Jun and myself though.

( Private to Yumeno-kun )


[OOC: Because I've been dying to play Dark!Hiiragi. Kid one day, evil the next. Nomnom.]

I...um...Forgive me, brother... Juliet... I tried to resist the compelling urge, but I'm unable to fight against it anymore.

I am ashamed by how easily my weak will falters.

I...

[Strained]

I want to... play...

T-Truth o-or Dare?

[Sigh]

I said that.

[Voice Post]
((Click.))
((Heavy breathing for a moment, the sound of someone bearing up under pain, shuffling slide of the Network contraption over sheets...then a voice, low, slow, in pain...))

... ... ...

...I am... ((swallowing sound)) ...very unwell at present...

I don't believe that I shall be... ((Sharp hiss of discomfort.)) ...going out today at all.

((Breathing for a moment, yes, breathe, it's all right.))

...

Not that I'd want to with all the madness out there.

I shall be...well tomorrow, I know.

Bloody, awful, stupid, damnable City.

((Quieter, muffled by blankets now, higher pitched: an acute pain now.))
Riff--((a high, whining sound...))

((Momentary fumbling.))
((Click.))
[//Voice Post Ends]

[ooc: Souvenirs You Never Lose. Every last scar on his back has opened and they sting all over again. Every. Last. One. He absolutely will not let anyone see, touch, or know about these scars (save Riff), so don't expect him to tell you what's wrong. He'll be lying on his stomach all day, the door locked and barred, with a towel on his back, hurting in more ways than one. Added to that, he's also suffering the effects of the arsenic his father used to hide in the sugar for his tea. Pain and fainting to be expected in addition to the bleeding. It's almost as good as turning him into a kid again.]

Audio Post

[At first, there's nothing but the quiet murmur of a man praying. Then a dog whines, imploringly, and after "Amen" is said, the speaker draws a slow breath in advance of addressing someone. It's unclear who.]

The twenty-third day in July. Sooner than I had thought. [Another whine from the dog, followed by a rustle of sheets as if she's crawling over or under them.] The next time Christina comes, it will be finished. We'll retire to Beswick and leave the affairs of Court and the succession to others. My death should quiet some of the bickering.

[ooc: Henry found his date of death in a book. He actually leaves a huge political mess behind, which he is not taking into consideration. To be fair, it would have been a mess regardless, but in this context, he's rushing off to become a vampire (he doesn't really understand what that entails and hasn't asked) without making provisions for his widow's future or taking steps to shield his closest allies and friends from his father. Henry is, in effect, acting out an extreme version of a rebellious teenager running away from home with the girlfriend daddy doesn't want him to see. "I'm joining the undead and you can't stop me!"]

I remember everything. And it's clear now. It's so much easier when I don't have that push all the time.

But I can't blame my ability for everything. Yesterday taught me that.

I don't have any powers today. No regeneration, no telekinesis, nothing. Anyone with a grudge, now's your chance to act on it. Before I do.


( ooc )

( Private//hackable because No-Man's Land people fail )


It figures my first project as an action reporter is planning to take me to Tayon. I have my doubts about this job, but oh well. It's as simple as doing interviews with people who live there and whatnot. Shouldn't be too bad if I go during the day. With a gun. And body armor.

Pheh.

Hm. It would appear Jun and I are here again. I wonder if Miss Kurumi is as well...

I apologize to the other children my age. I need to practice my violin for an upcoming competition, so.. no play time for me.


[OOC: Because who can resist little Hiiragi? He's about 10 years old. .. And has mad violin skillz, yo.]

Ten times Max has used and abused me (and not in a good way)

⇒ The fight in Logan's apartment, right before he got ahold of the gun
⇒ Hanging from the roof of the sports museum, trying to get that baseball
⇒ Being slapped just for checking out that house
⇒ Getting my hand slammed in a locker because "we needed to talk"
⇒ That lapdance. It counts
⇒ Any of the innumerable times she's hit me for no reason
⇒ Being punched in the stomach because she wanted the book I had
⇒ Every punch and kick the "Curvaceous Killer" landed in the ring
⇒ Kicking me in the junk. That gets a point all on its own
⇒ Getting pushed into the fountain when we arrived

And now that the City's been kind enough to emasculate me for the day, I'm done here.

[ooc: hit with listmania. enjoy. also, sorry if i waffle tonight. sleep is my enemy]

Ah-- another weekend like this. I'm sure everyone will be okay when it's over.


Doumeki-san, I'm ready to go when you are.



[ooc; Road Not Taken curse with Doumeki this time around. o/ She has the same scenario from the previous time. Have fun with that. and my responses are going to be slow up front orz forever]

Video Post

[The feed shows a darkened apartment, the view at an angle, as though being shot from a camera set haphazardly on a low coffee table. A young man clad in a linen shift with its sleeves gathered at the wrists and laces at the throat stumbles into view. He braces his weight against the corner of the wall where hallway meets living room. The anemic pallor of his skin adds to the overall impression of poor health.]

Christina?

[Officially, Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond and Somerset, once sole surviving son of King Henry VIII, died after a prolonged illness at seventeen, but that's only because it would have been awkward for anyone to admit that he had actually fallen in love with a vampire.]

[ooc: Henry's age reversed to roughly the week before he changed (the process lasted nearly a month). Some other key things characters might note include a) he looks younger than usual, b) he sounds like 16th century English royalty as opposed to 20th century Canadian romance writer, and c) he's up during the day.]

-okay, guys, this really isn't a good time for teleporting without explanation. Peter?

Oh.

Anyone here have a newspaper I could borrow?

( ooc )

Still more coming and going, and going, and coming back again. And here I still am, still as settled as ever.

I never really intended to become as settled as I think I am anymore. It's disgraceful, really. I didn't intend to have this room so fitted out for myself (since it was stripped bare when I first arrived), or to be as comfortable as this in it. It was temporary. It was lodgings, temporary lodgings, not my new residence. It was a place to get out of the rain and to sleep in between trying to escape.

Little good that did. I've heard a dozen theories, assisted with almost as many attempts, chased down perhaps two dozen of my own ideas, and nothing's come of any of it.

And life still goes on, similarly, almost parallel to the way it did at home. Days pass, and one fills the days, and perhaps there are curses to endure, but they fill the days better than anything else. It's like living with a fever, and enduring bouts periodically, some worse than others.

I suppose if there's anything to be said for having been in the City so long, it's that I've almost established myself here. Little as I want to think of myself as a real resident of the City, I've been here long enough to warrant some kind of name for myself. We call ourselves 'residents', I think. I've seen it used before. And not 'citizens', but that smacks a little of French Republicans, doesn't it? We're certainly not 'citizens', not really, as abused as we are and voiceless as we are. 'Residents' serves, if we have to call ourselves something.

What are we here, really? Prisoners, if one is going to be literal about it. But what's a city of prisoners? It's a strange prison. So we call ourselves 'residents' because we do 'reside' here--for the duration, for as long as we're kept here. We're held and caged, and we may be set free, or we may not. There's really no promise that we'll be set free, is there? There's only observation that most everyone else has gone home eventually.

To grow old in the City--I wonder how that would be.

As it is, how many others have been here for a year, two years, three years, perhaps more? I'm only curious. It's an idle question.

It's been a quiet week, aside from that one soaking wet day midweek. I'm grateful for that, I suppose, since last weekend was more than a little hectic--not unpleasant, but hectic.

Likewise with the water battles this week: not unpleasant, but a bit hectic. And I do think most everyone believe me now when I say that I'm a good shot--even with water.

I think I've nearly dried out from all of that, three days later.

But it's been three days. There'll be a curse coming to strike us again. And sooner rather than later.

~C.

[ooc: Still haven't really settled on what I'm doing to Cain this weekend. If anyone needs someone else to play along in a plot, let me know :3]