//001//

[sword_redemption]

[There was Theophany, and fighting the Galactic Council troops. And then he heard Rodimus say something over comm, and there was a blinding flash. And now he was here, alone, standing in what looked like a courtyard, still half braced for combat. But Cyclonus wasn't next to him. No one was. Even the snow itself seemed undisturbed, a thick blanket of white, crunching under his feet. ]

[He reached for his communicube, stowing one of his twin blades, coming up instead with...a book? He'd seen them on Earth, of course, but, well, not on Theophany. And not in his own storage.]

[He flips through it, talking to himself.]

...must be the Metrotitan. All the old stories say they could teleport. Maybe he went after the others. To find the Knights of Cybertron.


But....[He looks up around the walls of the Cair rising around the courtyard.] Where is everyone else?

[ 05 ] Written

[heirofficium]

 ( Filtered to Prongs )

three ✦ written

[axwielding]

( filtered to Raine Sage )

105.3 - make sure we keep talking

[hard_talker]

[as a familiar song spins, the soft scratch of vinyl undercutting Leonard Cohen's deep rumble and the pulse of the music, a list of written names starts appearing in the journal. North, Reborn, Asuna, Sugar, Jackie, Alvin, Jake, Nanako, Hugo, Dextera, Colonnello, Kirito, Jade, Mitsuru, Sollux, Drift, Sunny ... the list curls around the edges of the pages in varying types of handwriting. block, cursive, funky 3D-shaded letters, aLtErNaTiNg cApItAlS ... you name it. this week, Mark got as creative as he could with it. once he's done writing, he dials down the music and raises his voice]

So, Paradisa, this month it looks like we're surrounded by new people. Feel free to give 'em a welcome, so they don't end up stuck asking a billion questions. As for yours truly, I know some of you are probably scratchin' your heads wondering, "Jesus Christ, Harry, where the hell ya been? Some of us miss our Monday night music fix!"

Truth be told, I've been keeping an eye on Nora, since she's still stuck in her loss. It's been almost a month, now, and I'm gettin' a little weirded out. But since she already asked about it, I'm not gonna bore you all. I'm just gonna spin you a quick little story about what else I've been up to - and what the rest of us have been up to, too.

Last couple weeks, I got to thinking about how I've been here just a little over two years, now. Two years. Dammit, back home, I'd be in college right now, if not for the dear old FCC. That really blows my fuckin' mind, the more I think about it. But I can't help but feel like I've gotten my share of higher learnin' here, too. And it's not the kind you get out of textbooks and syllabi and all that fancy ivy-league bullshit, it's the real kind of learning, getting to know the world and what makes it tick. Even if it ain't my world, there are a lot of things that are ultimately the same - and I'm pretty sure everyone here would agree with me on that, even if it's over small stuff. So what I did, mostly, was listen. I mean, I really opened my ears and eyes and I read. I read as much of it as I could, and ... yeah, sure, everything goes in cycles here, just the same as the four seasons and almost as predictably.

People come, people go, people turn into weird shit and back to themselves again ... but they're still people. People who hold on to determination even when you'd think they've been kicked down too much. People who still try to solve the mysteries that won't be solved. And some people still remember how to play, while others get bored as all hell. [he starts to get a little louder, his voice bright and excited, fired up, high on the life he's rediscovered, page by page] And it's all happening at once, this great big melting pot of crazy and creepy and cool and crude, every minute of every single day, and it never changes, and it ALL changes, constantly, and ... and ...

[just as abruptly as he started, he stops, flopping into his chair with a sigh that's just as frustrated as it is sympathetic. his voice softens] And I know that everyone has their moments when they figure that, with a great big magic journal like this, you're gonna get drowned out under the other voices. That what you say doesn't matter. But I guess, what I'm tryin' to say is ... it does. It does, because you're a piece of something big and ridiculous and beautiful and so unique that it hurts in a good way, like eating a whole ice cream sundae in the middle of August under a blue sky. Hang in there, and bear with the brain freeze. You'll get heard, I promise. There'll always be somebody listening. All you gotta do is follow the advice of a friend of mine named Pink Floyd ... and keep talking.

[with that, he'll set the music for the week spinning. enjoy it, folks]

First tooth mark

[quadro_dent]

[Sunny blinks as she steps into the darkened tent, momentarily disoriented as her eyes adjust. However, when she's able to see again she's quite surprised at what she sees. Instead of a gypsy tent, as she had been expecting, she seems to be in a large room in what appears to be a castle. But that simply doesn't make any sense at all. It must be some trick of the light or illusion or something. She turns around to brush the tent flap aside and go back outside and finds that there was no longer a tent flap to brush. All there's behind her is an open door leading out to a very snowy courtyard.

She pushes some of the hair out of her face, trying to get a better look around her - this false beard is becoming increasingly inconvenient. At a complete loss she sighs]

Pietrisycamollaviadelrechiotemexity.

[Which, of course, means "I must admit I don't have the faintest idea what's going on." Sunny pauses, looking around. In her confusion she had forgotten that she was in disguise as Chabo the Wolf Baby, a fearsome child who only speaks in growls. She clears her throat and adds a soft]

Grr...

((OOC: Open for journal or in the lobby!))