six for gold | video; backdated to the night of 3/15

[titansno]

[the first thing most people will notice is that she's wearing green makeup - already faded and smudged over the night - and wearing what appears to be a stereotypical witch costume. the second thing is that she's looking a little unsteady. the third is that it's the middle of the damn night and she's out and about in the city. for those inclined towards musicals, you may recognize what she's idly humming and singing under her breath.]

... no good deed goes unpunished, no act of charity goes unresented ...

[her attention goes to the video, finally. she manages a little uncertain grin. she speaks a little more carefully than usual to avoid slurring too much. her Queens accent, though, is a more prominent than usual.]

And people say I'm bad at my religious obligations. I drank the cantor under the table on Purim, what could be more observant than that? [she pauses. looking at you, Marina.]

... Besides actually remembering the High Holy Days. [or avoiding pork. she reaches into her bag, retrieving a water bottle and flicking the cap off. Rachel's just going to down half of that as she keeps walking.]

Anyway, that part isn't important. If anyone saw something last week... [she hesitates, wondering if she should go on with this.] Cloak, four red eyes, about ten feet tall? Tentacles?

That was me, I... lost control. I'm better now, just in case you couldn't tell. [she stumbles, fiddling with her keys as she goes up the steps outside her house. the camera doesn't necessarily stay on her the whole time. ]

This fucking thing... there. [she gets in, pulling off the twisted costume hat and tossing it somewhere.] Oh. For anyone new, welcome to the Numbers Club. I'm Rachel Roth, I write for a living. Apparently, I used to be a demon witch or... something. Jury's still out.

(no subject)

[sayhitobianca]

Who: Varric Tethras and Neku Sakuraba
When: Tuesday evening
Where: A random building damaged by Wise Snake
What: Awesome graffiti and an appreciation of the arts

Varric is nothing if not an opportunist. He's donated quite a large sum of money to the rebuilding efforts, of course, any decent businessman would, but he's also taking advantage of a few properties that have suddenly become available - cheap, thanks to damage or foreclosure due to giant sodding snake.

He's at the newest one at the moment - alone, not a bodyguard in sight, which would piss his brother off to no end.

And probably isn't the smartest move, but he's been feeling a little restless lately.

He's examining the property when he hears the unmistakable sound of spray paint. His eyes narrow a little, and he turns towards to stride towards it.

"Really?"

one fish. | text

[thalassotherapy]

[ Mitch still doesn't really understand the specifics of all this. if he's honest, he's been avoiding it as much as possible. any conversations he's had prior to this point he'd been half convinced were some kind of new internet trend— but it's time to face the music. this is a secret network and he has the code and that probably means something. ]

i guess it was only a matter of time before the media really got a hold of this stuff but it's getting to the point where it's hard to filter through the bullshit. i keep hearing about corruption and the government and god knows what else— that kind of anarchy crap is easy to follow. hell just looking at the tuition i'm supposed to get together for LCU is proof enough of that.

but talking about aliens and Godzilla and super heroes— it's pretty hard to keep straight who the bad guys are here. normal people are going to be just as afraid of you guys as they are that giant snake monster and the secret police or whatever.

[ he's rambling. god what the hell is he even doing on here? ]

i think i was happier when my only concern was about whether i was going to pass my final or not. i guess it's too late to punk out if i already have this number, huh?

Action [closed]

[umbrael]

Who: Doyle/Umbrael and Cinderella/Rarity
When: Night of March 16
Where: A gardening shed, right? Cinderella's stables
What: Stuck as a dinosaur-thing, Doyle attempts to find some better shelter, but he forgets to see if someone's already using it.
Warnings: None!

Doyle's cold.

Doyle's really cold.

And he's not sure if he's cold-blooded or something - scaly things were, right? But if he was, wouldn't he be dead by now? Actually, you know what, nevermind, he wasn't going to look that gift-horse in the mouth.

( Look, it's hard to be naked and hairless in early spring, okay? )

closed;

[anequal]

Who: Anthony (anequal) and Kei (occasus)
When: 03.18, afternoon
Where: On the street! Around. Wherever.
What: Wherever them street busters hang, amateur photography nerds do too. And Anthony just happens to come across Kei and decides to get in his business.
Warnings: n/a

( insert your hipster line of choice here )

Twenty-Fourth Message [Video | Sheet of Paper]

[scramasax]

[Video comes in not even anchored-down - the paper's being held with a shifting and badly-lit view when it starts transmitting. Identifiable voice is coming in from offscreen, a bit wound-up just above an exactly-low point. Pressurized filler breath, and - ]

Excuse me - hello - sorry, if I may...?

May I please, uhmm. Ask someone -- what this says...?

Or what's on it...! I - suppose. [Drop-down and quick and forceful throat-clear...

The paper flips around to face downward at a brown parchment something-or-other on a tabletop. A rather green-gray hand runs onto and along one of its edges, and the frame aligns more properly.]

( Image cut. )

[The thing on the tabletop is a scroll, like that above, except that the sigil in the top right actually looks as if it belongs there.

There's a note neatly attached in one of the empty corners, with readable letters, enough to be picked and pronounced, if not necessarily understood, as the text's in medieval Latin. To anyone who can understand it, it reads "That which is broken, shall be fixed. That which is dull, shall be sharp. Thus is the nature of the Enchant Item magick."]