Hunt 002 ~ [Dictated]

[squirrelhunter]

['sup Paradisa? A very lazy voice filters through your journals over the music.]

S'lobsters in th' fuckin' lobby....

[And then he bursts out laughing.] Lobsters... in th' lobby... Ya get it? [more laughing.] Man, I knew I shouldn't've relied on this place t'give me good weed...

[That's right, castle. Daryl Dixon is currently high on cannabis. What do?]

((OOC: Open as open can be. Stoned redneck ahoy.))

prayer three ✞ dictated ✞ re: lobsters

[starhipped]

I know this might be beating a dead horse but ...

[Her voice is kind of panicked. All she'd wanted to do was go down to the kitchen and fix herself a snack! She'd been spending too much time in her room, especially since the Father had been -- ... no. It was best not to dwell on that now. There were bigger problems. Problems that happened to be red and dancing in the lobby. Everyone else had been talking about them too.]

The lobsters in the lobby - is this a normal occurrence? Something that the castle does to the residents often?

[Because honestly, how rude! She'd been assailed just trying to cross it by the dancing things! Lobsters that big .. they didn't exist and they sure didn't dance! What kind of magic was this?]

Also .. when are they going to leave?

( [filtered to any member of the clergy] )

ƒ011. lock, stock, and one smoking slayer

[msattentionspan]

[She doesn't smoke often. In fact, since showing up in the castle she'd pretty much just dropped the habit. Her Slayer body just filtered out the nicotine anyway and she didn't have that annoying craving for the substance to keep her roped into the expensive habit. Today, it's brought her to an interesting question -- because not everyone's world probably had all the talk of cancer and how horrible the things were for you. There's probably a world or two out there that doesn't even know what the damn things are.

Now, Faith normally isn't the type to even care about that sort of thing, but in the moment, she's curious. Especially, since it seems no one ages here - so all the horrible things that you could do to your body over time -- aren't exactly an issue. Taking that seat at the edge of the fountain, she cracks open the journal and poses a ridiculously thoughtful question. You know, in between deep inhaltations of carcinogens.]

Has anyone figured out what all of this not-aging shit does to us? Other than... not letting us age? We're definitely not injury-proof and I saw an ad for getting your hair cut. I've had to clip my nails a few times.

Seems sorta weird that there's a magical cut-off to what ages and what doesn't.



[Feel free to tell her smoking is bad for her in person or over the journal.]

056

[someoneto_carry]

[Meanwhile in the clinic, someone is finally waking up very slowly, trying to sit herself up. Her throat is dry, still feels crap, she's probably got the bed hair from HELL and overall? Not too happy right now and her very hoarse voice shows this ]

Ugh...

Tell me there's someone to shoot over this.


[OOC: Open in the clinic or over the journal! Her loss has been changed as mentioned before I'll grab the link when I'm not lazy]

The first magpie [action]

[fistfullofmagic]

[Consciousness returns to him at a leisurely pace. For a few moments Dhaos refuses to open his eyes, preferring to attempt to banish the residual images of fire and steel, of the light of death and dancing crustaceans. After finding his efforts only marginally successful, he finally decides to face the world.

The first sight that greets him is a view of the ceiling, though a bit of an IV drip is visible from the corner of his eye. Turning his head slightly - it hurts too much to move anything else - he traces the tube running from the bottom of the bag with his eyes. It's connected to me, he mentally notes somewhat dispassionately as he watches the blood flow into his veins. He returns his gaze to the ceiling.]

So it was all real then...? [To anyone listening, they would think the slight tremble in his voice was purely from the trauma of the previous day.]



((OOC: Open post! Anyone who's in the clinic or wishes to drop by can bother Dhaos if they want~))

♦ 016

[blabs]

( the flock )

And Sarah was an hundred and seven and twenty years old

[onlyanapple]

[Crowley dictated into the journal, in faux excitement ]

Gosh you guys, if you haven't noticed already from all the people talking over the journals, there were lobsters in the lobby yesterday. Dancing ones! Did you miss them? Well, I bet you all feel bad about that. Maybe if you're lucky, someone will have recorded it and will be flogging bootleg DVDs in a couple of hours. Best keep an eye out!

[That done, he's back to his usual lazy tones]

Anyway, speaking of lobsters, how would you all feel to know that the influx of the non-dancing kind wasn't actually the castle's fault? That it was actually a resident, who left them in his fridge since Christmas. A resident who did it back home, too, and was stupid enough to do it here too. A resident who's first name and surname begin with the same letter.

Something to ponder that, isn't it?

Chance 001 // dictated

[chancing]

It has been a full day now and I still do not understand what the purpose of bringing me here was. It seems to me that this is all some sort of terrible trick and I do not appreciate being made a part of it so unwillingly.

Still, it is not as bad as I originally thought. This place is surprisingly accommodating for having essentially kidnapped and held us all hostage and although I would much rather be elsewhere, I find myself growing accustomed to being here. There are many things that I do not understand about his place; the technology, the people... [Her tone takes on a playful lilt.] Perhaps there is someone out there who would be willing to teach me. I think you will find that I am a very eager student with the right teacher.

the first

[the_storyteller]

[Paradisa is not the most colorful place. The inside is particularly drab; the exterior of the castle, too, leaves quite a lot to be desired. Everything is so very monotone.

And Clopin isn't going to stand for that.

Of course, he isn't entirely sure where he is, and in his search for answers to that question, he's been perusing the journal he found amidst his very few personal belongings. It's been quite informative--particularly on the matter of wishes being granted.

So, shortly after coming to Paradisa against his will and finding it bland and certainly not prepared to his liking for the grand arrival of a gypsy king, he has decided to take this matter into his own hands... beginning with the main entrance to the castle. He's standing outside, barking orders.]

Castle! Drapery--purple and gold, perhaps--please!

[And the castle delivers. In a pile on the ground in front of him, rather than hanging above the entrance as he'd been hoping.]

So funny, so funny, Castle! You are a kidder, aren't you?

[Oh, well. He starts throwing the drapes around on the ground instead. Much less dignified, but they'll be a nice place to practice a few cartwheels when he's finished, anyhow.]