xix. dictated, action

[heloise]

( Lana )

( Micheletto )

( Stephanie )

What does it mean when the castle gave some no glimpse of old age?

[ Lucrezia is on her knees in the church in town, hands counting through her white rosary and reciting her prayers under her breath. She keeps her hood over her head.

It might seem foolish to believe that saying something over and over again gives it greater weight, or that time and voice can buy penance, but she feels she must at least-- try. She isn't praying for her own soul, she wonders if she would ever. But she loses count of how many times she has said the Ave Maria, and stands to go. ]

When I'm Sixty-four

[waterproofed]

So apparently when I get old I'm going to go around wearing a fisherman's hat, grow a beard and need reading glasses. And you know, it's kind of nice to think about. I know it sounds weird but I like even the thought that I might get to live long enough to worry about things like reading glasses.

0000 0011 (dictated)

[iin2ufferable]

Let me get this straight: once your adult humans get too old to be useful, you just put them in a communal hive, force them into embarrassing but basically harmless shenanigans for a cheap laugh or two, and let them stay there to die? Is that really what humans do?

[ Priorities: Sollux has them. ]

Not as old as I used to be you know

[originalcopy]

Well, that was totally fuckin' awesome. 

Nothing like waking up and surprise you have arthritis!
I didn't even get to believe that I actually got to live a long life to justify the aches, pains and people treating me like I was totally senile.
Just the being old part.

Hope the rest of you had as much fun as I did!

( [Filtered: Private] )

[and with that Church is going to grab his sniper rifle and make good on his "shooting holes in the castle" promise.  Because, fuck you castle that's why!]

Twenty-Fifth House of Westeros ♛ Dictated

[songsandstories]

Age is a thing to ponder, of what lies waiting for us back home. [She thinks of the Vale, and what is to become of Alayne Stone. Sansa Stark must be dead, she tells herself.]

Does the castle truly know what is to be if some did not age while others did? [Was it an omen?] I know little of magic, as its use has long since died where I am from. Perhaps this is but another trick. None can foretell the future.

I should have liked to grown old, though I have not an idea of what my father's wishes. [She is simply relieved to be away and free of Lannisters, let alone planning for what is to come. No doubt Petyr has something planned. She briefly thinks of Winterfell, the promise he once made.]

I have safety while Westeros is still torn. The castle would like me to believe that isn't so, I presume.

017 - Step step step Step (Backdated to the First Day Of Holly Peaks]

[silentrunning]

[OOC: TW for anyone with a fear of heights or problems with suicide even though that's not what Chell's doing.]


[It's early morning in Holly Peaks, and Chell has escaped her room for the fourth time in two days. She's standing on the roof, holding her journal in one hand, walking slowly toward the edge. She'll survive if she does, of course. She still has her boots and she's still sure of the springs' viability. The journal rests open on her palm. and she's speaking, yes actually speaking to it Over her voice you can hear the shriek of the alarms that signal an escape attempt by a patient]

You know. It's been far too long since I did something fun. All I've been doing is sitting here in my room and dodging nurses when I want a breath of fresh air, and they won't even let me get any. And I'm tired of it. I want my freedom, dammit.

[She coughs and spits off the roof.]

I'm still as fit as I always was. Anybody want to come watch me? Come on out. Get some fresh air. I'm sure some of you are getting tired of living in your rooms and being under these nurses' thumbs too.

o7 | Written

[bustered]

[It's taken him forever to actually care enough to make this entry -- and when it comes down to it, when the journal is finally on his lap and open to a blank page, Zack doesn't feel like speaking to it. But he's got to; he's allowed himself this funk for much too long, however justified it may or may not have been.

He finally chooses to write, the letters indented with the pressure of a pen gripped too hard.]

Angeal Hewley has gone home.

[That's enough, he thinks -- and all he cares to write, really. People who knew Angeal would know the bits he didn't write, how he'd be missed as a mentor and a friend, and people who didn't know Angeal wouldn't care.

He closes the journal after leaving the sentence, tucking it safely away and standing from his perch on a bale of hay in the stables. He'd planned to go for a ride, but it won't happen if he doesn't actually get his butt in gear.]

Twenty Two Truffula Trees

[whichwayyoulean]

[The Once-ler is not really all that troubled about the recent ageing events. After all, he already knows he's going to live to be an old man, and honestly he's glad he's not a complete jabbering wreck as an old guy. Given his decades of solitude, it seems he won't turn out all that bad.

So, he's making pancakes in the little kitchen in his room, his journal open to one side as he cooks. Of course, any good chef knows that you need a great song when you're making a breakfast concoction ]

♫ Just mix your flour, baking powder
Add salt and sugar
Sift twice into a bowl
In another beat together eggs and butter
Add in milk and your on your way to
Mallow pancakes, makin' mallow pancakes
I get some mallows and I put 'em in a pancake
Mallow pancakes that's what it's gonna make
Mallow pancaaaakes ♫

[Look, it's a rare moment of the Once-ler being happy about something. Someone should ruin that. Or stop him from putting himself into a sugar coma. Either or]