one

[the_marli_tharn]

[No little guilt trips for this traumatized rabbit, thank you.]

[Instead she's busy working on a new burrow since her first one caved in with the earthquake. There's the oddest man-thing, though, that keeps appearing everytimw she trns her back.

She keeps dragging it out, but keeps finding it again, to a point of frustration. Really the castle just wants her to have her journal.]

[So have some scrabbling of nails, scratched and chewed paper, and a rabbit muttering in exasperation.]

Frith above, how does this thing keep ending up in my borrow ...

Twenty Six Spoons {Dictated}

[cyan_maid]

[By all respects, Jane’s birthday in Paradisa had been lovely, especially compared to the drama, sadness, and insanity of what would come at home. She went to sleep worried, though, for it seemed that many of the residents had been struck by the castle’s ire yet again. When she wakes up today, she finds that something feels…off. Slowly, the bedcovers are peeled off, and Jane spots something on her stomach. Something large, and damp, and red – something painfully familiar.

She knows that strange marks are showing up on people, but she doesn’t even think of them. Panic can do that to a girl.]

Is anybody awake?? Oh, God...I’m scared, I’m so scared, there’s blood everywhere!!I don't - I don't think I got hurt but it's everywhere, it's like when I - [There’s a choked sound, followed by a shaky, sniffly breath.] Someone, please…help…!

[EDIT: A little later, after she's figured things out and probably made may of her friends soil their pajamas, she speaks again.]

I'm sorry about before. It seems...the castle has given me one of those stains. It's not really very pleasant to look at. I'll...probably stay in my room for a while.

((OOC: Characters are more than welcome to come bursting into her room if they are so inclined, but be warned – there is a lot of blood.))

6th Idea Sephira: Sin

[sinsoftheblaze]

[waking up covered in blood wasn't necessarily a new thing for Dextera. it happened far too often back home that it's more or less stopped bothering him.

waking up with the words 'The Blaze' and 'Sinner' on his arms? well that's a different story. an upsetting story, but a true story. that and he finally realized the blood was coming from places where he had been killed in the past.

sighing, Dextera knew he couldn't stay in his room forever and decided to head to the library for a bit. picking out a book on fairy tales and the best hiding spot he could find, Dextera sat down for some reading and ignoring the words written on his arms.

Dextera hoped that no one would find him but it was kind of hard to ignore the blood trail he had left. he'll apologize for that later.]

[09] Dictated

[heirofficium]

 Augh, what the... That smell... Eugh...

[ Sirius wakes up to an awful stench that he doesn't quite recognize yet, a foul, old smell that reminds him of--

Oh, fuck.

Sirius knows this smell, and he thought he'd never have to smell it ever again. It's the smell of crazed ideology, magic you don't talk about in polite company, of younger brothers left behind.

He swears and picks up his journal, not even bothering to make a filter. ]

Right then, so if you value your sense of smell, stay away from room 726. Better yet, stay away from the seventh floor. Not sure how strong this is.

[ Of course he's making light of the situation, despite his voice shaking, as he's filled with memories of stolen glimpses on dark nights, of nights he regrets sneaking out of bed and of cruel words that go hand in hand with a reddened cheek. He's sure Remus and James will probably ask questions, so he ends up making a filter. ]


( Filtered to Moony and Prongs )

Journal the Tenth - written

[theabjectauthor]

[Lemony had had a rather rude awakening, that morning, helping Jane cope with recent developments, and once they had determined that she wasn't going to die, it was short work to open the journal and realize what was happening. now back in his room, he opens his journal and begins to write - and as he does, droplets of ink spatter the page. nothing as intrusive or drastic as blood, but there, nonetheless - telling, hovering around his every word]

Good afternoon, everyone,

I know that we are all being forced to deal with our pasts, today, in one form or another, and some have offered words of comfort ... but when we are left feeling uncomfortable, sometimes only truth remains.

One of the most difficult things to think about in life is one's regrets. Something will happen to you, and you will do the wrong thing, and for years afterward you will wish you had done something different. But occasionally, events in one's life become clearer through the prism of experience, a phrase which simply means that things tend to become clearer as time goes on. For instance, when a person is just born, they usually have no idea what curtains are and spend a great deal of their first months wondering why on earth Mommy and Daddy have hung large pieces of cloth over each window in the nursery. But as the person grows older, the idea of curtains becomes clearer through the prism of experience. The person will learn the word "curtains" and notice that they are actually quite handy for keeping a room dark when it is time to sleep, and for decorating an otherwise boring window area. Eventually, they will entirely accept the idea of curtains, and may even purchase some curtains of their own, or venetian blinds, and it is all due to the prism of experience. So with this in mind, if the events which have stained you transpired - a word which here means "took place, causing great distress, trauma, and regret" - quite a long time ago, you may want to try and view them through your own prism of experience and see if they look a little less troublesome. If they do not, then I am sorry, but I cannot make the world any less of a horrible place than it already is, and some horrible things will remain horrible until the end of time, much in the same way that some sweetened processed foodstuffs will remain sweetened processed foodstuffs even while buried under refuse in a landfill, at which point they would no longer be appetizing anyway. Really, it's just as well you leave them alone, at that point, and find something more pleasant to digest.

That being said, I have discovered Raine Sage's notes upon the world of Paradisa and its phenomenon, and am studying them in anticipation of our upcoming expedition. I would appreciate input from anyone who has been on past trips beyond the Dead Zone, as your own prism of experience would help me give a little more depth and breadth to the information. The Professor was very thorough in her writing, and the notes seem to be organized by location, and then broken down into the following topics: Flora and Fauna, Architectural Styles, and Magic and Mana. In addition, she notes someplace called "Paradisa Town" as a potential spot for replenishing supplies, so if we shall be passing by in our travels, it is something to keep in mind - at least, for those of you who enjoy peaches and fish. I am currently researching several pleasant recipes involving both, so that we might be prepared. If any of you are allergic to either thing, please let me know so that I can bring the means for some form of alternative dish.

I will be in my room preparing for the expedition, if any of you wish to speak with me - and I will completely understand if you would rather not do so in person. We have many questions to answer, some raised over the course of the past week, and I would like to be prepared for the journey ahead. After all, there are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself.

With all due respect,




((A/N: A few of the lines in this post were respectfully requisitioned from the pages of Horseradish. If they seemed familiar, now you know why. ;D))

LII

[wilder]

[Zelos can be found out in the city center, sitting on the fountain that's currently off due to repairs. He's been helping out through the morning, and is currently taking a break. Like everyone else, he's been marked by this plot. There's inked wings on his back, and words crudely etched onto him all over his body in an ugly fashion, like a knife did it- the most prominent being "TRAITOR" across his cheek.]

[He's been flipping through the journal, noticing all the entries about regret. Man, people sure got hit hard. ]

[Normally, he doesn't like to speak up about this sort of stuff. As loud as he is, he likes to keep to himself more when he doesn't feel like being a goof ball. But honestly, living with a lot of regrets? Is his expertise. And so...with a bit of hesitation, he'll actually speak in a rather plain manner.]

I think it's pretty clear by now we got a lot of regrets or things we don't like about ourselves or our pasts. I'm not about to tell people how to handle that stuff..everyone's got their own way. I know one guy that wears handcuffs all the time as a reminder of his crimes! It's weird, but it works for him. As long as you don't hurt anyone in the process, I don't see a problem in people going their own path with managing this stuff.

I'm also not gonna tell you that everything's okay with what you did, because maybe it's not. Maybe it'll never be okay. That's just something you have to learn to live with. If you want forgiveness that badly? Take it up with the people you've hurt or your own personal religion - I don't really care.

I will say that for some, sitting around thinking about this stuff just makes it worse. Right now, there's an entire town that's recently been hit by an earthquake and could use the extra hands. Clearing rubble, helping in the clinics, making repairs - even raising money to help pay for things goes a long way. Maybe they're not the people you've maybe hurt...but they're still people, right? That's gotta count for something. And it's a good distraction!

So if you feel up to it...maybe just come to the town and ask the townspeople what you can do to help. Ink or fake blood or whatever, I'm sure they'll take the help.

If not, well I guess good luck in handling this newest castle thing in your own way.

That's...all.

[OOC: Dictated or open post!]

61. dictated, action

[foolreversed]

( private tl;dr action )

[for the moment you can find Adachi in the castle lobby. He isn't trying to hide his hands, so the blood covered palms are out for everyone to see, along with the weird, rope burn like marks on his wrists. He has the journal out, and his pet Shadow decided to follow him along.

He speaks kind of absently and awkwardly, as if trying to figure out how to best get to his real intent]

Man, I really dodged a bullet when I moved back to the castle huh... Earthquakes were regular back home, but they're still pretty scary...

...I'm going to go out to the town. Check out just how bad my old apartment got it. Maybe... do other things... [he doesn't want to outright say "help" or anything, that embarrasses him ok]

If anyone wants to join me, I'll be waiting in the lobby for a little while. [a pause] I won't judge anything I might see.

[there's an emphasis on that last part. He doesn't care what your stain says about you right now, he's got it no better.]

035 || dictated;

[workaphilic]

[He spent the first full day locked in his room.

He didn't even try to wash it away. The outburst on the journals, with the way the stain faded against his skin -- it was clearly something not meant to be washed away. Streaks of red across his forehead, his eyes, his nose, his ear. Like he'd fallen from a great height and smashed his head against the ground.

He spent hours in front of the mirror, staring at himself. He can see the castle's little joke. "Blood" a shade too bright, close enough to be mistaken, but to a discerning eye.... To his eyes, perfectly trained, it looks like betrayal plain on his face.

He hasn't eaten, he hasn't slept.

On the second day, he doesn't care.

He goes about his business. He tends to his bees, he collects (steals) supplies from around the castle, back straight and eyes hard like he doesn't look like he made himself into a crime scene.

In the kitchen, sitting on the counter eating an apple, he opens the journal in his lap to read. Eventually, when he speaks, his tone is flat and bored.]

It isn't actually required that everyone come up with a sermon. As a reminder.

((Open over the journal or in person, if you like!))

cinquante ° dictated

[signedlefthanded]

Well it seems Paradisa is persistent that I can't keep to my shop. I guess I'm lucky I've gone through this before, blood on my hands. [She sighs. Violet doesn't sound like she's lucky.]

I think this place makes it easy to forget your past. I can't believe it's been nearly two years since I've been here. [It had been almost two years since everything had started, the moment she left. Two years since Briony beach, which made it four now.

Voilet can be seen around town, though she's not exactly helpful with bloody hands. It's one of those days she finds herself missing her parents.]

056 red letters

[eat_me_beat_me]

[There are smudges of red paint on the journal as Nora opens it. She sighs softly. For once the mess isn't because of some art project. Her fingers have been covered in wet paint since yesterday. She's not about to let it keep her down, however. She's going stir-crazy enough as it is. She needs human contact, damnit!

Her voice is more demure than usual as she dictates.]

So, uh, sorry if anyone's been worried about me since the quake. I was in the Gallery when it struck and... well let's just say I've been stuck in the clinic in town since. I'm heading back to the castle today, though, so that's something.

Um... so I'm still not really walking around much yet so I haven't seen how bad the damage is but I think most of the building is still okay. I'm mostly hoping that the art made it through in one piece. [She pauses. Oh man she is SO not used to asking for help. This is a new and foreign concept for her. Almost as foreign as running a business. WAT DO?!]

[She clears her throat, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious]

I guess the real reason I wanted to say something was that I'm running the Gallery now and I kinda need some help. I'm not even completely sure who's working there now. I have a lot of ideas of how to set everything up again but I'm gonna need someone to help get everything fixed up since I'm fairly certain having the ceiling on the floor isn't a great selling point. Oh and if you have any art in there and want to check on it or want to put anything in there once it's open again let me know. I'm also going to be trying to restore anything done by people that aren't here anymore that's been damaged... as best as I can, anyway.

[Pause]

Hey, uh, and does anyone have any tips for how to get around on crutches. These things are a pain in the ass.

((OOC: Open for journal or town clinic. NOTE FOR ARTISTS: If you have art in the gallery I'm leaving it up to you whether anything got damaged. I'll be doing an OOC post about the gallery in the next few days so keep an eye out.))

Thirtieth House of Westeros ♛ Dictated/ Action ♛ Like My Lady Mother

[songsandstories]

[Given the mess the hair dye is making, she can't stay in her room. She can't really stay anywhere. She tries not to think of what it means, the brown hair dye that drips from her red hair. It tells her she's a liar, that her pretending is more than that.]

I shan't be in my room for the remainder of this. I'm no use to anyone in the town either. There's not else for me to do.

I know not how to get dye out of cloth. [Let's not think about how many dresses have been ruined by this.

The girl with red hair and brown dye dripping from it has managed to pin it up, though it still manages to soil the back of her dark dress. She's taken to the lobby to do needlepoint, but she can also be found in the kitchens.

The needlepoint at least gives her something to do. It's the pattern of a mockingbird. The dye reminds her too much of Alayne, the girl she is failing to failing to be.]

013 // Dictated

[nothingtobelieve]

[There's a flutter of what sounds like wings before Vicious actually speaks, and from the sounds of footsteps, he's on the move, pet bird in tow]

The earthquake wasn't enough excitement?

[He'd have to have been blind and deaf to miss what was going on, though he himself seems to be unmarked and unperturbed by the display of human misery the castle has been putting on this weekend]

There's a lesson to be learned from this.

[Although he's apparently not keen on elaborating what that might be. Instead, he's content to continue his walk, both through the castle and around town. There's a lot to see, between the earthquake damage and all the people freaking out over their various stains]



[OOC: Backdated slightly to earlier in the day, open for journal/action]

ᴛᴡᴏ ♚ broken dreams and silent screams

[wolfskin]

Is there naught we can do but sit and wait for this... affliction to run it's course?

[ Robb fears he knew the answer to this question before it ever left his mouth. By his tone he is by no means pleased. (But who is?) The background a low rumble can be heard, heavy foot falls soon joining them as Grey Wind paces the room.

The line across his neck was the first to appear, spreading like greyscale. Then the heart... bleeding words as if that sword had truly pierced his chest. Robb covered them with scarves and leathers, but it did little to hide the stains. They simply bleed through as if the fabric had never been there to begin with.

The padding suddenly stops with a bestial groan. Grey Wind plops down at his feet, quite literally on his feet. Thanks bro. ]

Alright boy, lets go outside.

[ Neither wolf nor king seem to be good at sitting, so outside they go. With journal in hand and stains for all to see. ]

☤10 (backdated to Sunday afternoon)

[madetosin]

[Muraki is in town today. He's paid little heed to what's been happening to the residents, nor does he much care. He has a job to do, and appearances to keep up, and he's set on doing both.

Near the fountain in town, he has several tables and chairs set up, a few of the former being filled with various medical supplies. He flips the journal open as he's sorting through things]

For anyone who cares, the clinic is town has set up a first aid station in the city center. If you are helping with the cleanup and find anyone still injured or trapped, feel free to come here. We could also use supplies such as blankets, ice, and food, or any volunteers that might be willing to help process the patients. If you're so inclined, that is...

( Filter to Sheena )

[He steps away a moment, pausing to search for the lighter in his pocket, but catches sight of his own reflection in the window.

He thought he'd been clear of it, but it's easy enough to see he's developed stains of his own - small pink spots, resembling sakura petals, trail from the outer corner his eyes and down towards his chest. Muraki frowns, interpreting the meaning.

Over the journal, it's not hard to hear him scoff]

How irritating...

Track 2: Blood Is Thicker Than Poison

[gratuitousgerman]

[After spending long enough wandering around the castle and being weirded out, Klavier has finally decided to try out this public speaking forum the rest of you all seem so fond of, and dictate an entry to the castle at large.]

I must admit...I'm not sure I'm convinced yet that this place isn't a dream. I thought perhaps I was growing accustomed to it, until...this.

[Dishes clink in the background - Klavier is in the kitchen, not because he particularly wants to be in public with the luminescent blue spectacle markings around his eyes and the black ink top hat on his hand, but because for some reason today the castle has decided not to grant any of his wishes for food, and he's hungry.]

But dream or not...achtung, it is so very hard to present evidence one way or another, ja? So, when reality itself is in doubt, what is there to do but move forward?

And speaking of moving forward...I must admit, I'm terribly curious. When I left home - on Earth - it was 2026...and what of the rest of you? It's strange to think that if I were to meet some of you at home, you might be much older or younger than here.

((backdated to before the elephants, open to the kitchen.))