PARADISA

six | dictated.

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 21:43:53 GMT

Posted by: kethedammit

So, uh. Did one of those loss things, and I might've... stolen some shit. I'll give everything back; I ain't got use for none of it. Don't want it, and I didn't fence nothing. Sorry. I got... a scarf, and some kinda shiny whatsit, some dollies, and plenty of fucking handkerchiefs. 'M sorry, I done stitched the initials outta 'em, so I can't say as to who they was proper owned by.

And, y'know, for the rest of y'all, if'n you seen me... sorry.

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five | dictated.

Wed, 29 May 2013 02:53:46 GMT

Posted by: kethedammit

[His voice is high-pitched and excited, with each word spoken strongly and clearly. It's the voice of a young boy, one whose voice hasn't yet broken, though it's beginning to; it cracks several times during the span of the post.]

Nikah told me a story about a haunted book, once; he said that's what happens to hocuses when they read too much and then they die in their libraries and nobody finds the body for days and days. And then their ghosts get trapped in the books, see, and the books all start talking and shit, and that's why the Mirador declares a-po-sta-sy sometimes, because then a hocus'll read the haunted books, and his head'll all get turned around. But I think I'm okay, because I ain't reading none of this and I ain't no hocus and my head's too empty to get turned around by magic anyhow.

Zephyr says... oh, um, nevermind about that shit.

So anyways, this one time, Jeanne-Mer told me about her momma, who she said was a princess, but I don't believe her, though she swears it by the Septad Gate and Mélusine’s cunt all the same. Anyway, she said that her momma lived in a big castle, with all the nice wallpaper and paintings and vases, and pretty people in nice clothes all going about their business. I wonder if that's like this.

[A pause.] Okay, bye.

[ooc More details here (and feel free to still sign up if you like)!]

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four | dictated.

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 21:35:10 GMT

Posted by: kethedammit

[You know what gets boring fast? Camping. Mildmay has recited all the songs and riddles he knows to himself, but, when you've got a magic talking book, those pursuits loose their flavor fast. Instead, itching curiosity dictates...]

Any of y'all got stories where you're from? [And, in case people are from places where this isn't an understood practice...] I'll trade, if'n you got any I ain't heard.

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three | dictated.

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 03:49:39 GMT

Posted by: kethedammit

So who owns the fucking horses in the fucking stables?

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two | dictated.

Sat, 16 Mar 2013 01:52:20 GMT

Posted by: kethedammit

Hey, Felix? I reckon I figured out what that thing I lost is.

As for the rest of y'all, which ones of you are healers, and what're your rates?

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one | dictated & action.

Thu, 07 Mar 2013 00:41:50 GMT

Posted by: kethedammit

[Mildmay has been studying the journal he found for just long enough to be confident he knows how it works. He speaks once, carefully; he only wants to do this once, because if his hunch is wrong, it's gonna sting.]

Any of y'all ever heard of no Stephen Teverius?

[Done. He sits back in a comfortable chair found in one of Paradisa's many antechambers. Anyone watching him would think he had all the time in the world.]

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