PARADISA

[Filtered Away From Sunny Baudelaire]

To My Fellow Residents,

It is never a pleasant thing to lose the company of a friend or loved one... I am sure most of you know the experience well from your time here in Paradisa, if not from you lives before, as well. Those who are left behind must pick up the pieces and carry on as best they can. But sometimes there are holes that cannot completely be accounted for... In this case, the knowledge and expwrience of caring for a young child. While my remaining ward, Sunny, is presently experiencing the pros and cons of having the body and full vocabulary of a young woman, I am not certain how long this twist of fate will last, and shall soon have to care for her as her proper age of two. Though Sunny is a very smart and resourceful girl, capable of doing much children her own age cannot, there are still bound to be things she will need that I may find myself unprepared for. Though I have never been fond of the idiom "it takes a village to raise a child", the advice of a castle may still be of infinite use, and greatly appreciated.

With all due respect,

[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))

Good afternoon, everyone, and to those of you with the inclination, a happy St. Patrick's Day.

[Lemony's voice drifts over the journals over the sounds of chopping, rustling, and bubbling, a pretty clear indication that he's in the kitchen. every now and then there's a dusting of something powdery over the page - spices, to be exact]

I suppose I could regale you with the curious details of the holiday, and how it has evolved from the celebration of a man who dedicated his life to crushing the pagan beliefs of a country and converting them to Catholicism, or how that slowly evolved into an Irish-American celebration of culture, yeasty beverages, and the color green in various combinations. But that sort of information is readily available.

Instead, I am here at the request of my dear friend Sunny Baudelaire: as she does not quite have an extensive enough vocabulary, herself, I would like to invite you all to partake of a traditional St. Patrick's Day repast. Sunny is doing most of the preparation, and I am mainly acting as sous-chef, a phrase which here means "one who lifts the heavier things and handles the more dangerous bits of the cooking process".

Incidentally, corned beef - or salt beef, if you're more prone to British slang - became more popular with the Irish upon their immigration to New York, where the salted cuts of beef made available largely through the Jewish butchers of the city were more affordable than the pork they had favored back home on the Emerald Isle. So, if you're worried about the meal being kosher, there's no need for concern.

[at which point, the master chef herself sees fit to pipe up] Oleracea!

OH! Yes, thank you for reminding me. [ahem] Sunny would like me to remind you that it's also delicious when paired with cabbage, carrots and potatoes.

We're looking forward to meeting anyone who would care to come ... and I'll be more than happy to translate for Sunny, as she's eager to meet people.

Jane, I would filter to you, but it seems to be of very little use, so I shall instead apologize for any lack of tact, and ask if you would care to meet me in the lobby for a walk and leave your journal behind.

[he has a feeling she might need the company of someone who will not judge her for the shape of her baked goods or whether or not she is related to people. he only heard some of it, and it was all very confusing, but one does not need to comprehend a situation to understand how distressing it must be for someone else.]


As for the rest of you, since I am quite certain you can all hear me? I have a few words of advice:

Learn to speak in code.

I would be willing to give pointers for anyone particularly interested - or there are several useful books on the subject in the library. You would find them on the second floor, in the east wing, under the Dewey Decimal heading 416 - which is, for some reason, in our library, next to several books on the subject of basejumping.

I wish you the best of luck in safeguarding your secrets - unless, of course, they are being kept for nefarious reasons, in which case, sir or madam, shame upon you.

[the journal picks up the sounds of rustling, creaking, and other hubbub - a phrase which here means hustle and bustle. Lemony is in the process of packing himself a trunk, and dictating as he does so]

My dear residents ... [ahem]

I do apologize for dictating to you thus, rather than my usual written discourse, but I have something to prepare for, and I have lost quite a bit of my preparation time due to having been - [cough.] - terribly transmogrified into a cantankerous caterpillar for the last few days. While I appreciate a literary allusion as much as the next well-read, open-minded individual, I must admit that sitting on mushrooms for such an extended period was neither a comfortable nor recommended pastime.

[cough cough] And neither, of course, is the constant inhalation of mood or mind-altering stimulants, no matter how harmless they may be in a nonsensical situation. I certainly hope that I did not form any lasting first impressions on any of you during that time. While I do enjoy the occasional dose of nicotine, I am hardly such a wanton imbiber under normal - [COUGH.] - circumstances. ... Good heavens. Castle, might I have another pitcher of lemon water? ... Thank you.

[there's a pause as he takes a sip] That being said, I hope that some of you found enjoyable circumstances in recent days, and that no one was terribly injured by that terrible, manxome creature.

[general reparations having been made, he sets to folding up the laundry he'll be taking along, and starts in on the bevy of filters he's been intending to make for a short while now]

[Kalinda]

I have not heard from you recently ... I hope you've been well?

[Jane Crocker]

When would you like to have that cooking lesson in the kitchen?

[Dr. Gregory House]

Sir, I apologize for contacting you out of the blue, but may I have a word?

[Spike]

I have located that book on knids, if you are still interested!

[/Filters]

[the morning dawns somewhat pleasantly, and a certain researcher, journalist, and self-proclaimed coward can be found in the wee hours of the morning, sneaking down the stairs from his tower and making his way covertly across the lobby - a phrase which here means "ducking behind pillars and plush furniture and various decorations so as not to be seen, which does not work quite as well if you are a grown and husky adult, and not the small, lithe child you were when you took your Covert Maneuvering class with S".

Lemony's first stop is the kitchen, but he is not there long before he is ducking back out with a sizeable picnic basket, and then sneaking back across to the elevator. from there, it is only the press of a button and a quick check to make sure the elevator is, indeed, devoid of anyone, before he arrives blessedly on the first library floor.

once he's inside, he winds his way through the stacks until he finds a table that he feels is sufficiently well-ensconced and hidden away ... and then he starts to set up his picnic basket. a pot of tea, some pastries, a nice cloth napkin, a little thermos of fruit juice, a bottle of water to clean up any unfortunate spills .... there.

with a sigh of contentment, he takes out his journal and dictates quietly, as he begins to fix his continental breakfast in kiss-free solitude and safety]

Good morning, everyone. I hope that you are all weathering this holiday season with considerably less stress and anxiety than myself - but given that it is in fact, the holiday season, I would have to say that it would be a miracle if you were.

As far as miracles are concerned, however, I do know a short tale that may put a few of you at ease - or, at the very least, distract you from whatever misfortunes and invasions of personal space that you may have to weather. The tale is called The Lump of Coal, and is mostly nondenominational, though it does cater slightly more heavily to those who celebrate Christmas and are familiar with its traditions. If you care to listen, please, feel free - I shall put up a convenient filter, so that those of you who do not shall not have to.

[Filtered To Those Who Wish To Hear The Tale of The Lump Of Coal]

[and then he'll just go ahead and read you all this. with voices. and emphasis. because he is good at reading stories to people. HAPPY HOLIDAYS, PARA.]

[/Filter]

[you may, of course, feel free to come and hunt him down for theft of tea, pastries, or more importantly, INVASION OF PERSONAL SPACE. catching him en route to the library is perfectly acceptable, too!]

[To All Who Helped Recover The Seven Virtues; Written]

To My Kind Volunteers,

It is with gratitude and curiosity that I write to you this afternoon. It seems that there were a great many of you who assisted in the search for the eclectic - a phrase which here means "strange and in some cases downright impractical" - errata required to help cure our fellow residents of their malicious maladies. My gratitude is well-founded because, plainly, all cases of infection have been successfully cured. Who knows how long the terrible circumstances could have persisted without your steadfast intervention? My curiosity is also well-founded, because it is not necessarily human nature - or, to be more politically correct, the nature of living beings in general - to be so magnanimous toward our fellow beings without any promise or suggestion of some form of recompense. Therefore, keeping my utmost gratitude and admiration for your efforts in mind, if you do not mind my asking, what was it that made each of you volunteer? Was it, perhaps, that a colleague of yours had taken ill, or that their actions had caused you some manner of grief? Are you perhaps simply germophobic, and wished to purge the castle of any rampant irregularities? Or are you simply the sort of person who believes in the concept of fighting metaphorical fires as they arise? Whatever the case, I await your responses, and would gladly invite you to my room, 1907 Gaudium Tower, for a cup of tea or some other beverage of gratitude, as well as a pleasant conversation, if you so wish.

With all due respect,


[/Filter]

[the letter properly composed, Lemony caps his favorite fountain pen, tucks it in his pocket, and heads out for a stroll]

I had heard that there is a room where the seasons change indoors ... is it, by any chance, open for visitors this afternoon? If so, what are the weather conditions, so that I might dress accordingly?