Mar. 15th, 2014

putuporshutup: Hollow Art ([Speaking] Actually)
[personal profile] putuporshutup
Backdated to Thursday Night, via Richard Castle's journal:

[Anybody listening in on the journal at that particular moment would hear the sounds of someone getting ready for bed. A running faucet, brushing teeth, the sounds of rustling fabric as the person changes into their pajamas, a few sleepy grunts... a wistful sigh... before there is more rustling fabric as the person climbs into bed.

Soon after, there are some soft snores, as well as some sleep murmuring, before the journal closes itself.]

Saturday, late morning:

[The journal opens again about an hour after Castle was supposed to be at work, just in time to catch the Meg knocking on the door for several minutes. Name plate's still there, so as far as she's concerned, there's no good reason why she's gotta work alone on a weekend.]

Dammit, Castle! Come on, your shift started an hour ago!

[After knocking a few more times, the demons loses her patience, and with a frustrated wave of her hand, the door flies open. Anyone else might have qualms about busting into someone's room like that; Meg... not so much.

She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees him sleeping soundly -- not that she actually cares, of course. Except she... totally does. Even so, it does nothing to mask her irritation as she stalks across the room and prods at him a few times.]

Hey. Rick. Wake up. Castle. CASTLE. C'mon, man...

[She shakes him... sort of gently... by the shoulders, and pats his cheek a few times. No dice. The lights are out, and nobody's home. Kay... well... he's breathing so he's not dead, and that's good enough for her.

Obviously, raising her voice is the solution here.]

Rise 'n shine, Sleeping Beauty!

[Nope. Nothing. Meg unceremoniously picks up his hand and lets it go, where it drops straight back down to his side on the mattress with a dull thud.


Defeated, she reaches over to shut his journal, but thinks the better of it.]

So... Castle's out cold, I can't wake him up. Seems a little quick for another damn sleeping curse, but whatever. Guess I'll just leave him in bed. Someone else oughta come keep me company at Death Match.

[She leaves the journal open - who knows if the damn thing will choose to stay that way, but hey, these things are kinda like baby monitors, right? Rick's a pretty easy-going guy and she doubts he has enemies around here, but who knows? People can be dicks. She sets it on his nightstand and points a menacing finger at it.]


[Meg glances over her shoulder to make sure nobody's being nosy. Once satisfied that they're alone, she smooths his ruffled hair down and straightens his covers, tucking him in a little tighter. Before she leaves, she turns and speaks directly into the journal, addressing everyone again.]

I'm guessing I don't need to say it, but if anybody messes with him or his stuff, you're gonna have me to deal with. If you don't know what that means, I don't suggest finding out.

[With that, there's the snap of high heeled boots walking away, and the sound of the door slamming shut and locking from the outside.]


Mar. 15th, 2014 02:55 pm
both_neither: (gun)
[personal profile] both_neither
[Going to the gun range is always a decent way to kill time and clear his head from time to time, and even occasionally blow off steam. Thankfully, that didn't happen too much, but even the even-tempered Gren needed to shoot something now and then.

Today his aim is just recreation, but minutes after arriving, he realizes something is very very wrong. What normally feels almost as natural as breathing becomes an actual struggle. He can't keep hold of the gun at all. The trigger seems to twitch of his grip every time he tries to squeeze it, and when he even manages that, he can only fire wildly off course where his arm used to be deadly accurate.

What is going on?

[He sets the gun down with a heavy thud, not realizing his journal had fallen open at his feet, as he presses a hand to his face in actual frustration]


[written and filtered to anyone who has gained a second loss or had a loss change]

[Later, once he turns back to his apartment in town, he opens the journal and hesitantly writes a message]

To anyone that has ever gotten a different loss, what prompted the change for you? How did you know anything was different?

Because I think I might have a second one, but I'm not sure why. Got knocked out for a few weeks, but I didn't die. Not sure if the castle would punish me for something it made happen in the first place.

I just need to make sense of this.
timor: (it's standard)
[personal profile] timor
Hello again, everyone.

I've had a couple weeks to settle in, and have had the chance to both speak with and observe a large part of the castle's population. Now, as some already know, I want something very simple from you all: your belief. I've introduced myself--

[Here he draws an arrow back to this entry.]

-- And I've encountered plenty of you in person; now I want to call out all you skeptics who think I'm lying or playing tricks. That's right-- all of you. I'm sure we can work out something that will be convincing enough proof.

So what do you say? This will work out well for all of us, really; I'll get what I want, and you won't have to foolishly regard a fellow resident as imaginary and invisible.

[There's a lengthy pause before he adds on one more thing:]

I'm also interested in how common it is for people to show up with two losses.

I really would like my horse back, you see.

[And the nightmare sand that horse was made from, and his ability to effortlessly figure out people's worst fears. But at this point, he's staying silent about that stuff; he doesn't particularly want anybody to know that he was depowered in any way.]


paradisa: (Default)

January 2015