ten paintings burned (and one girl lost)

[thehangedrose]

( ooc cut for tons of emotional stuff and angst )

[The voice on the other end is unmistakably Garry's, but this time, it sounds broken. Hollow. An odd sort of state for someone who usually seems full of so much life.]

She's gone.

[There's a sharp intake of breath, and a few quiet mutters of "god god god this can't oh god", before there's another period of silence. And then he begins again, but with more difficulty this time:]

R-r-r-...she's left. Ra-rapunzel, she's no longer here...

[A shuddering sigh.]

Just wanted you to know.

[And with that, he's closed the book and thrown it harshly against the wall. People will find him sitting against the wall in the hallway, looking rather ridiculous dressed in his white armor, head buried in his hands.]

[Is he...sobbing?]

2nd case.

[dorkwonder]

( Steph )

127.0

[encryptedlock]

[It was bound to happen sooner or later. He knew that. He'd always known that - it's what this place does. How many people--how many hundreds of people--had come here a day, a month, a year, and then left again without warning? How many dozens of people had he, personally, cared about and then had taken from him?

Nothing like this, though. Never like this.

He'd awakened in his own room, the first sign that something was wrong. He hadn't been here except to pick up the occasional supplies ever since he'd moved in with Carolina. His initial feeling of dread is compounded when he finds only her dogtags and lighter on the nightstand next to him.

He doesn't want to believe it, at first, but of course when he runs up to her room in a blind panic, it's empty and the nameplate is blank. Of course it is. Why should it be otherwise? When has this place ever managed to hold on to anyone he cared about?

It's about an hour later when he finally writes into the journal, not trusting his voice.]

Carolina's gone.

[Friends]

I'm going to be away from the castle for a while. Don't bother coming after me.

[/Friends]

[If anyone is quick enough they'll be able to find him at Kat's hangar, outfitting the Warthog for a week or more's travel. The Dead Zone's not really an option, not with Delta, but damned if he's going to stay any closer to the castle than he has to.]

ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴ

[confidente]

Nice to see everyone stopped taking their monthly dose of crazy pills.

[ ...Whoops, someone might be... not in the best of moods? Oh god, he is sorry. ]

Hopefully we'll be able to have some sort of break from evil mirrors and talking flowers.

[ ...

A lengthy pause, one long suffering sigh and a bark. ]

─ Hang on a second.

[ Journal closed, sorry Paradisa John has been dragged out for a walk. And he's sorry about his mood, really he is. ]

thirty-one detention slips

[delincuente]

[Enjoy a nice splatter of spray paint splatter across your journals on this fine morning, Paradisa. Alex has been up all night decorating her bedroom walls - a big mural of the NYC skyline, just like the smaller version she gave to Kurt for Christmas. She doesn't know quite what possessed her to re-do it right now, but in the going-on-two years she's been in Paradisa, she's never missed her home more.

She hopes that Kurt is safe back there right now. Peeta, too, in his own hometown. After all, it's Paradisa. Who knows if it sticks to its word and actually sends everyone back where they came from.

A bit muffled by the her face mask - ]

Stupid how it works. I mean, you sit in this dump for two years, never really watching a friend go home. Then, all of the sudden, half of them just up and get kicked out at the same time. It's, like, irony or something.

[It would be safe to infer from this bit of dialogue that Alex doesn't actually know the definition of "irony".]

... Has anyone ever tried setting the castle on fire? I could probably go for that right now.

((ooc: dated to about 6:00 AM on Sunday))

23 - Jugem Memory - Dictated, lobby action

[radiantwingedone]

... For those who knew him, have been told Dhaos is no longer in the castle.

[ ... Again. Although in this case he was told by Dhaos' Tyrannitar, who seems to have adopted him, rather than by talking to the man again and... finding he didn't remember him. He's not sure which is worse.

At least the large pokemon was friendly to his cat and altaria- ]

... not related in the least; how has age been tracked here? Or is it of no importance...

[ Totally not asking because he realized his had passed. Honestly. ]

[ And after that, Duke will settle in the lobby - even more out of the way than usual, because he is most uncomfortable with his current... attire. The coat he wishes up doesn't stay on for more than a few minutes at a time, much to his discomfort, so it ends up sitting on the floor about him as he stops paying attention to it and pays more attention to... magic. He would have done this on the roof again, but with all the snow, it was a quick way to both get cold and burnt.

The corner of the lobby where Duke sits is lit up with flickers of red, green, purples of both bright and near black, and warm gold as he works on... something.

And anyone who talked with the sphinx in wonderland might recognize how he looks- granted, he doesn't have a cat's body or wings anymore, but the coloring is the same. ]

((OOC: loss! Duke is taking the appearance of his third boss-fight from Tales of Vesperia. This means he glows a little and has metal-and-rock things in his skin, and probably feels like a bit too much magic in one place. At least he isn't crazy?))

Journal the Fourth

[theabjectauthor]

[the journal picks up the sounds of rustling, creaking, and other hubbub - a phrase which here means hustle and bustle. Lemony is in the process of packing himself a trunk, and dictating as he does so]

My dear residents ... [ahem]

I do apologize for dictating to you thus, rather than my usual written discourse, but I have something to prepare for, and I have lost quite a bit of my preparation time due to having been - [cough.] - terribly transmogrified into a cantankerous caterpillar for the last few days. While I appreciate a literary allusion as much as the next well-read, open-minded individual, I must admit that sitting on mushrooms for such an extended period was neither a comfortable nor recommended pastime.

[cough cough] And neither, of course, is the constant inhalation of mood or mind-altering stimulants, no matter how harmless they may be in a nonsensical situation. I certainly hope that I did not form any lasting first impressions on any of you during that time. While I do enjoy the occasional dose of nicotine, I am hardly such a wanton imbiber under normal - [COUGH.] - circumstances. ... Good heavens. Castle, might I have another pitcher of lemon water? ... Thank you.

[there's a pause as he takes a sip] That being said, I hope that some of you found enjoyable circumstances in recent days, and that no one was terribly injured by that terrible, manxome creature.

[general reparations having been made, he sets to folding up the laundry he'll be taking along, and starts in on the bevy of filters he's been intending to make for a short while now]

[Kalinda]

I have not heard from you recently ... I hope you've been well?

[Jane Crocker]

When would you like to have that cooking lesson in the kitchen?

[Dr. Gregory House]

Sir, I apologize for contacting you out of the blue, but may I have a word?

[Spike]

I have located that book on knids, if you are still interested!

[/Filters]

11. Gravity/Is working against me

[pompous_today]

Though it seems impossible, I realize that I have been in Paradisa for sixth months. I know that is almost nothing compared to some of you, but still... I had rather hoped... well. That I would be back home by now, or at least that I would be able to see more familiar faces again.

It hasn't been all that bad, despite being separated from my sister and everyone else from my world, however. I'm glad to have made friends here; the acceptance I have found has been a little overwhelming at times, but I am still very grateful for all of it. And it is never dull here, to say the least.

[Dictated]

[deductiongeek]

[All the talk recently about homesickness was starting to get to Conan.  He didn't care about hiw own home, of course.  He'd never cared much for the Kudo mansion.  And if he missed it now, it was more regret for what it represented.  For the life he had lost.

But Ran...  He never talked about her, but he never stopped thinking about her.  It had been so many months since the last time he had seen her.  Since the castle had sent her home without him.  And sometimes he was afraid he was starting to forget small things about her.  More than the memories the castle had taken from him.

Could two people separated by so much ever really keep their relationship the same?

With all these questions spinning around in his head, Conan had removed his glasses and climbed up into the windowseat in his room.  There, he sat and brooded.  And thought.

Eventually something else occurred to him.  He normally didn't pay much attention to himself.  But even he had come to realize that he should have gotten a little taller in the year and a half he had been trapped here.  He hadn't.  He was still as tiny as the first day he had arrived here.]

 Has any kid here ever grown?  Gotten any older physically?  Or is that simply another thing the castle has taken from us?

xxxv λ musing

[assassino]

[All things considered, Ezio has had a busy day, but now he's out and about. He's hit up a dozen or so stores in town, mostly for painting frames and books, and perhaps you've see him running errands.


Later, however, he will be sitting down at his desk to scrawl out:]

I seldom write in this journal. I think that is funny; for every boy who knows how to write, three sit without education, and here I squander my gifts and ignore books. My sister does more writing than I do, and her talent is a rarity amongst women!

It has been more than a year since I have arrived –– closer, still, to thirteen months -- and each day I learn new things about the future, history, science, and even the human body. I do not think many days have passed in the past four hundred that saw me sitting idle and failing to learn!

Yet still, when I spoke to a young woman the other week, she was hard-pressed to believe that I would return to my time, forsaking the knowledge and science and hygiene of the future. I prefer the conventions of my time, and my culture, and I have work to do. So, I wonder, then...

How many of you would go home with another, to their time instead of yours?

I'm going to miss plumbing. I think that is what you call it –– "plumbing." Even after all this time, sometimes it is fun to turn on the "tap" simply to marvel at its convenience. It is a wonder there is so much water about without the streets being flooded like the canals of Venezia.

And I have such good memories of the miracles of showers, with thanks to some of the beautiful women in this castle.

E. Auditore.

001; Dictated

[comsubin]

[ Well this is an odd situation to find yourself in. A man in military gear and a big ol' rifle strapped to his back is standing outside the castle in the nice cold night air staring up at it critically. He's got the journal open in one hand and every now and then looks down to flip a page or two over.

He seems to have gotten the basic gist of the thing at least, since he seems to be listening and reading things without really absorbing anything that's being said before flipping to a new page and talking. ]

Hey! What the hell is going on here? I've got no idea what game you're playing at, but I've got something more important I was in the middle of.