twenty-six detention slips

[delincuente]

[It's the day after the wish retribution, and Alex is slowly and grouchily beginning to correct the castle's payback - a particularly grueling experience for her, since she must have held some sort of Frequent Wisher record. But what, exactly, might that payback have been?] 

Ugh, that was terrible. The castle couldn't just, like, give me a headache or something, or make me feel like puking. Pfft. No. That would be totally way too great. [There's a loud, solid whack over the journal - machine on stone.] Instead, it decides to just dump out my room while I'm sleeping. Way cool, right? I've always wanted to wake up on the floor. 

[There's another whack, this one louder. Alex is currently trying to levitate a pinball machine down the fourth floor hallway, to replace the one just recently taken back (it would be in one's best interest not to ask where she got this one). Her attention is divided, however, and the bulky table may or may not keep ramming into residents' doors. Feel free to step out and complain.]

Hey - has anyone seen Spike in the past couple of days? The purple one, I mean. Not the other one. 

((ooc: journal, or fourth floor hallway))

♥ Gear 001 [Written]

[clockworkchild]

My name is Hugo…

[A pause in the script which is neat, but fitting best for a grammar school child]

….Hugo Cabret.

I don’t know where I am, or why I’m here, but right now that is not important. I’ve lost something and I need it back. I know it has to be here. It was in my hand right before I arrived. If you’ve taken it, please give it back. [Another pause before a repeat of the last word in large less neat letters]

PLEASE.

[A few meaningless drops of ink follow, then a bit of a smudge before the writing commences again] It is a key. Shaped like a heart.

[A drawing follows, clumsy but clear of a key whose tip forms a heart shape] Like this. [An arrow is drawn to the drawing for emphasis]

I cannot tell you why, but I must have it back.

ⅵ┆action

[shrugs_a_lot]

[It's been almost two weeks and Cloud is still one fluffy cloud... However after so many hours of boredom, he's learned some tricks.

You observant people might have noticed something going on in the skies for the entire week. There is some random cloud shapes happening without there being a breeze to shape them; it might look like dragons, then like lions and sometimes like those weird four legged creatures from the stables. But the majority are some huge birds, chocobos in fact for those who know them by name...

And the oddest of all... A sword?

Yep, he's been practising. What else is there to do when you're a cloud? Raining and thunder can be tiring you know?

Today though, he is bored and it shows...

When will this stupid loss end?

He might as well go down to ground level and mix with humans (or whatever you are) for a change. He's able to form words now! Even if it's only short ones... All that hard work paid out!]


{{Last post of Cloud as a cloud, wanted to play it a little more before changing him back. Feel free to react or actually find him outside in the castle's grounds. I think it's safe to say I'm back from hiatus, though I might be a little slow still, sorry forever about that.}}

roll away your stone, I'll roll away mine

[cricketycricket]

[this afternoon's tea break finds Five in the TARDIS Cloister Room, parts and notes strewn about on the worktable. Tardy's gnawing away intently at a discarded bit of wire casing, so every now and then there's a contented, subdued "vworp" over the journals. setting aside the notes he was perusing, Five sips at his tea, then pulls the journal over within reach for a few filters]

[Filtered to Scientists With Access to the Old Patrol HQ, and anyone who's helping York & Allen with the Cryostasis]

Good afternoon ... I was hoping I might have your ear for a moment. I'm in the process of helping York develop a cryostasis system for those who - well, for lack of a more polite term - are temporarily dead. We've designs on using the old basement headquarters as a location for the equipment ... and I wanted to make sure there were no objections before we started converting some of the laboratory space. If you've questions, you can certainly direct them to myself or York.

Thank you for your time, and have a lovely day.
[/Filter]

[Kat]

Doing alright, then, I hope?

[/Kat]

You know, I've been thinking a lot lately, about these newer developments to the way our friend the Castle has been handling things. [he says "friend" neutrally enough, so that people can take it whichever way they please - ironically or not so much so.] Three years in one spot, in one linear timestream, is more than enough time to observe patterns of behaviour, and while most of them are still quite the same as when I arrived, I'm beginning to notice some rather marked changes. And I'm not just talking about those of us who've been shuffled off to other places and made to temporarily think they've lived there all their lives, either ... though that's certainly relevant. No, this ties in more to the concept of our souls as fuel, and how it might explain the shift in patterns.

[he sighs, gathering his thoughts together so that he can try and put them forth in a way that as many people will understand as possible] What if ... let's posit something else for a moment, shall we?

What if the castle's need for our energy and support comes not from a hunger, as we've hypothesized, but from some actual condition? In that case, the spirit of your average resident, as it were, is not fuel so much as it's ... a sort of remedy. A medicine. With that slight shift in perspective, I give you the following. Those of you who are medical professionals, or even slightly familiar with prolonged illnesses that require any sort of treatment, will know that after a while, the body becomes accustomed to some sorts of remedies, and they either become less useful, or completely ineffective. This could certainly explain why some stay here longer than others ... and it could also account for the sudden shifts in the castle's behaviour.

Put simply: given enough time, none of us may be as effective as we once were in meeting the needs of this place. Our collective clock may be ticking.

[one glance at James' copy of the letter from Libet is enough to tell him what to say next.]

And I'm not entirely sure I want to find out what happens if it stops. If worse comes to worse ... we may have to stop thinking of Paradisa as an adversary.

[Paradisa]

... Though it would be nice if you'd weigh in on the subject, just the once. I'm trying to think of all involved, here. That was quite the little stunt you pulled on Sunday. It's certainly not going to win you any points, if that's what you're hoping for.

[/Paradisa]

Eighth House of Westeros ♛ Written

[songsandstories]

[She's back to venturing out again. Careful still. Tyrion's absence may just be a trick of the Castle, and it isn't like Alayne is one to trust it in the first place. Still it is nice out (despite Sansa still longing for the cold and the snow she was just beginning to feel at the Vale), and so sitting out under a tree, neat and curled writing appears in the journal.]

How many would call this place home? I have heard there are people who have been trapped for years, and even more who have gone outside of lands. It seems curious more do not venture out.

I also write to ask for information on the town -- specifically finding dwellings. I understand there is need for currency, but Robb Stark was originally offering his aid with locating some living space. [She still doesn't feel safe in the Castle.]

My thanks for all information given.

(no subject)

[save_the_souls]

( Private )

( Friends & Acquaintances )

( People skilled with swords )

[For anyone else? Allen meanwhile can be found out in the courtyard of the castle, sitting upon a bench and simply enjoying NOT being sick as a dog after his horrendous illness this weekend. Not only that, but from the filter he saw earlier it seemed like there might be something done with the crypt thingy that York once (he'll never remember the tech name...) so that certainly does matter to improve his mood. Right now he seems to be enjoying the company of his golem, Timcanpy, who is sitting on his knees and seems to be doing SOMETHING fascinating from the way that Allen will occasionally laugh or smile at him]

[Yeah I'm not sure either. Anyway, feel free to bother them]

[OOC: Open post! Friends and Acquaintance filter is for anyone whose spoken to him a couple times and is on good terms with him. If unsure, feel free to ask!]

1. Gravity/Is working against me

[pompous_today]

[Simon has been exploring for a while before finally deciding to settle down and contact others. His writing is neat and precise.]

I have been walking around for a while, but I have to admit that I am feeling confused and lost. I am unclear on how or why I was brought here, or even where I am, really, though this journal is a fascinating way to communicate with others- if others can, indeed, read what I am writing.

My name is Simon. I am looking for my sister, River Tam, though if anybody else recognizes me, I would be more than happy to see you. There appear to be plenty of other residents here, however, so I would be grateful for any information any of you might have.

(no subject)

[dupable]

[ If your character is out and about the castle this afternoon or evening (we can always pretend it's not already 10 PM) they might find some blue jello in some unusual places.

Like replacing all the water in the indoor swimming pool, or onsen. Or filling up all but one of the washing machines in the laundry. Perhaps they noticed the goopy mess just sitting in the kitchen sink? The oddest of all is the pile of jello someone (or someones) managed to pack into the elevator.

If they're lucky they might catch a flash of blue or orange zipping around the corner trying to escape the scene of the crime (and they probably will be, because Vriska and John are about as sneaky as a linebacker wearing pots, pants and car alarms for padding.) ]

((OOC. POOL | ONSEN | LAUNDRY ROOM | KITCHEN | ELEVATOR))

sixth glitch

[perfectisnteasy]

[for once, in CLU's room, everything's silent.

or, well, it would be, if it weren't for the occasional restless shifting.

rustle.

rustle rustle rustle.

to the trained ear, it almost sounds like a small child who can't sit still in the corner for five minutes. because that's pretty much exactly what's going on here, minus the small part and the corner part.

meditation - no matter how good for you your User says it is - IS HARD, people. really, really hard.

rustle rustle.]


Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh, this is stupid. Anyone feel like meetin' me in that gym room and showin' me how all that stuff works? I need to actually move.