001 | Dictated

[hellofist]

Uh... Is it- working?

[Okay, those are definitely the letters that make up the word uh but the rest of it is just jumbled up nonsense. Still, Cass is just going to trust this thing is writing down what she's saying.]

I'm- lost. I think. Castle is big. In book room. Um, library. [Come on Cass, use the right names for things.] Could use [help] information. Um... tips? Meeting in person... would be best.

[Nothing happens for a minute, but then Cass remembers the important part about introductions: You have to actually introduce yourself.]

I'm Cassandra. Cain.

[If anyone does go looking for her, they'll find Cass poking through the books and possibly looking at them like she's reading them, but once you're close enough it's clear... she's holding the book upside down. Oops.]

((ooc: Cass can't read, so any written replies might give her trouble. Feel free to find her in the library for in person meetings!)

seventeenth snare

[fanstheflame]

[Hermione Granger]

I'm ready for that shooting range training whenever you are. Meet me in the lobby.

[/filter]

[with that, Gale gathers up his things and heads up to the castle. he leaves a bit early, though, as he has a Secret Mission. making a quick trek up one of the towers, he carefully circumvents Once-ler's traps - ain't no thing for a trapping genius! - and carefully hangs a wooden sign on the door. it's woodburned, with an intricate border of thorns and leaves. the words in the middle plainly read: Hermit Within: Do Not Dislodge. errand taken care of, he slips back down to the lobby to wait for Hermione, where anyone else is also completely free to come and say hello before they head out.]

o8 | Written

[bustered]

[Actually, there are no words. Instead, there are a few leaves pressed in between the pages of the journal -- young things, early-budding plants or those that tolerated the chill of winter. Perhaps the impressions would translate across the journal, and perhaps not; for Zack, it's simply a safe place to put the things until he can get back to the Castle and look them up in the library. Not all the plants are familiar to him, and outdoor curiosity trumps indoor boredom.

But at intervals there is perhaps the echo of words spoken to one's mount, or the sounds of riding: the creak of leather, the chocobo's soft wark. And the Castle's grounds are vast, so it's entirely possible to come across one chocobo-riding SOLDIER if one is out and about.]

[Dictated;open for action in theater]

[schrodingersghost]

Evening, Day six.  Has it really only been a week since we were locked in here?  It feels longer.  Much longer.

The twizzlers ran out four days ago, and the sugar crashes started to happen not long afterwards.  Then came the boredom.  And the popcorn fights.

How long can we-

[And Danny breaks down snickering.]

Okay, I can't keep that up anymore.  But seriously, how much longer are we going to be stuck here? I don't know about everyone else, but I am seriously ready for food that isn't candy, popcorn and nachos.

Huh, never thought I'd say that.

Station Identification Break - tonight's main feature (backdated)

[hard_talker]

[this Thursday, at 10 PM, the journal's cracked open to the sounds of music drifting out - but it's not Leonard Cohen. instead, it's a ballad, and it turns out to be the opening track of a movie, which keeps on going in the background as Mark talks over]

Okay, so, uh, yours truly happens to be trapped in the theatre, in case you guys hadn't figured it out by now. But I'm gonna try and make the weekly news happen anyway, because HEY, it's somethin' to do. And tonight's offering, Windmill Cabaret? Looks like it's got enough music in it to pass for a playlist, anyway.

Soooooo, newbies! Have a less-than-orthodox Hard Harry shout-out for Lee, Arrietty, Klavier, Solf, Kristoph, James, Rin, River, Chie, Peter, Naomi, Santa Claus, Kankri, and Edward. .... JESUS, if it takes me gettin' locked in a goddamn theater for some fresh meat to show up, I guess maybe I should do it whenever we hit one of those creepy slumps. And here I was afraid we were headin' into Libet territory for a little while. WHOOPS, sure showed me, Paradisa, you crazy bastard.

[he scoffs exaggeratedly and flops back, sticking his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him]

And now, the rest of my report: there are no less then twelve different colors of gum stuck to the backs of the seats in this place. Danny looks remarkably dashing with a Sharpie moustache. Alex, Jennifer and Daryl are all in the running for Loudest Snorer. Mitsuru sleeps with a stuffed ... plane ... yeah, no, I didn't know they made 'em either, you got me ... and the rest of you locked-in louts are super fuckin' boring while you're asleep. Just so's you know. As for how I GOT this delicious dirt, well, YOU try stayin' awake when the only things to drink around here are caffeinated. It ain't. Gonna. Happen.

Also, the number one activity of choice for the bored seems to be testing our hand-eye coordination. I've seen flying popcorn, M&Ms, malt balls, spitballs, you name it. I'd say I feel bad for whoever's gonna clean the place when it finally lets us out, but I'm pretty sure it'll be back to abnormal for anyone who actually feels like comin' in here this --

Wait, wait, HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE, ARE THEY ACTUALLY COVERING NIRVANA --

[yes, he actually does shut up, sit bolt upright like a meerkat wired to a nine-volt battery, and gape at the screen]

-- holy shit this movie is awesome.

[sorry, folks, you've lost your DJ. he'll be back with you once Nicole Kidman dies and everyone in the theatre is sniffling horribly. post is (obviously) open for action to anyone else in the lock-in!]

6th Sortie

[solowingpixy]

[The past several days were almost terrible. If anything, they shifted between mildly amusing and annoying as hell on a constant basis. For Pixy it did, anyway. It was comforting that he had the company of Mitsuru and his... trusty F-15 plush, anyway. He had his chin propped in his hand while his elbow rested on the chair arm, watching the current Changemorphers movie with narrowed eyes. He frowns a bit when the enemy robot downs a few F-22 aircraft.]

Seriously? Who the hell put those Raptors in the hands of a group of nuggets?

[Mitsuru just sat there mortified.]

'Nuggets?' I apologize if my question leads to an obvious answer. I feel like my intelligence has been violated.

[He couldn't help but let out a laugh.]

Rookies. But you're not the only one who's feelin' like their intelligence has been compromised.

[It WAS a particularly painful movie.]

[ooc: red is Pixy, purple is Mitsuru; over the journal and open for the lock-in people]