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nothingtobelieve

[There's a lot of noise over the journal, the sound of metal hitting metal, shouting, and somewhat dimmer, the sounds of (medieval) city life, all suggesting someone's standing on a street somewhere in City Royale. Which probably makes the following question a little less confusing than it might be, without context]

Has anyone managed to get these people to remember them for any length of time?

[This was going to be a little trickier than he'd thought if not. He didn't usually have this sort of problem]

nothingtobelieve

[It's possible by now that some of the 'new' residents have worked out the journals' various quirks, but this particular posting seems completely accidental, consisting of nothing but measured footsteps on stone floors for quite awhile before a voice breaks the monotony]

There must be someone in charge.

[And then it's back to footsteps, almost as if someone is systematically searching the place. Which is, more or less, what the tall, dark-suited figure roaming the castle's hallways appears to be doing, while looking increasingly annoyed by the endeavor]

nothingtobelieve

There must be some pattern to what the castle chooses to do to us.

[There is some irony in the fact that the castle's continued influence is the only reason he feels like addressing other residents at all, but it's something he's been thinking about for awhile.]

If we could understand it, we could control it.

[Which seems the most logical course of action, to him.]

nothingtobelieve

[Someone is up early today, though like the rest of the castle, claiming alertness would be a bit of a stretch. Still, he's managed a walk through town to confirm a suspicion]

Something is off.

[It might be stating the obvious, but if no one else is going to bring it up, he will.]

( Gren )

nothingtobelieve

It's over, I take it?

[He could look himself, but it would take more effort than he can currently muster. He was going to have to find better ways of blotting out the things he didn't want to deal with--the hangovers afterwards were always unpleasant]

How many of you even understood what you were celebrating?

nothingtobelieve

[There must be a journal open somewhere, because the sound of a door opening and closing again can clearly be heard, followed by approaching footsteps. And then something scrapes across the table, near by]

Is this supposed to be a message?

[The question is addressed more to the castle itself than its residents, Vicious' tone more unamused than it is questioning. There's a 'thunk' as something solid is set down again.]

So be it.

nothingtobelieve

[Vicious rarely addresses the castle at large, and certainly not so close together, but there wasn't much else going on, and his favorite pastime was on hold until he'd healed up better. So why not relieve some of the boredom by poking at the residents?]

Did you enjoy your archaic holiday?

[There'd certainly been enough chatter about it, even if the Castle hadn't done anything to actually promote it]

I wonder what you could have found to be 'thankful' for.

nothingtobelieve

[There's a pale man in a dark coat with a large bird walking the castle grounds this morning. It's been awhile since he's taken the animal out, thanks to violence and world-changes, and it shows in the way it doesn't simply sit on his shoulder, but takes off and wheels overhead occasionally, looking more than a bit menacing. Vicious himself is feeling rather neutral on things today, journal in hand. You could almost mistake him for contemplative]

Florence was... informative.

[And maybe that statement was more for himself than anyone else in particular, but the experience had been interesting. He almost found himself missing it, despite the irritation of the castle tricking him into believing he'd lived some other life there. It was a life he might have been content with, and this was the first time he'd ever felt that way about anything the castle had done. After a moment, he adds a filter]

( Spike )

nothingtobelieve

[Vicious had originally been content to sit out the castle's latest trick, not bothered by the imposed silence. But he had kept an eye on what was happening, and when things had begun to look less benign, he'd packed up and started his return 'home.']

I'm back.

[The writing is neat, spare, the message as brief as his original departure. It had taken the better part of the day to make the return trip, which meant there was a tall, silver-haired shadow moving through the town and then the castle, red-eyed bird perched on one shoulder and a katana sheathed at his hip. Certainly not anything suspicious.]

( Filtered to Gren )

nothingtobelieve

I'm leaving for awhile.

[And that's it. No preamble, no further explanation. In part because he's a man of few words, and in part to leave certain parties guessing.

He is, however, in the lobby not long after, a bag of expertly packed gear over one shoulder and a large, strange bird on the other. Apparently solo expeditions outside Paradisa are not enough to make him alter his usual suit-and-tie wardrobe, however. Although it might just be for show]

nothingtobelieve

So no one noticed.

[A pause]

Which means it really was contained.

[Probably for the best. It probably would have been far worse with more people running around]

( Gren )

nothingtobelieve

It seems some of you are familiar with our current situation. Sharing that information might be wise.

[Because really. Dinosaurs. He cannot believe this isn't going to go badly eventually, and he'd prefer some decent intel before that happens.]

nothingtobelieve

( Gren )

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]

nothingtobelieve

...I don't need this.

[He sounds vaguely exasperated, and not really aware of the journal at all. If one could actually see him, they'd be greeted with the sight of a former syndicate member poking at a fairly benign looking pie suspiciously. No sir, he doesn't like it. There's a shuffling noise, and then a door opening and closing. He may have just dumped it outside his room.]

I hope this is temporary.

[Because he is not going to start cooking for himself.]

nothingtobelieve

[He knows the filters are broken at this point, but there's not a lot he can do about it. And frankly, he's angry enough that he doesn't care. Which is why he scrawls a message out, instead of dictating. Better not to let on just how unhappy he is, just yet.]

Gren. We need to talk.

[Spare on the details, no need to give out more information than he can avoid.]

[OOC: Backdated to after this post]

nothingtobelieve

[Vicious doesn't care much about the cold, but a bear just tried to hand him a soda, and he's starting to think it was a mistake to spend a little more time actually engaged with reality.]

I trust it's pointless to ask if there's a reason the whole castle resembles a Spaceland ride?

[His tone is completely devoid of any real emotion... if anything, he's simply resigned himself to this sort of ludicrous goings on. He sure is scowling like hell at the various animals scurrying around the halls, though, and... well. Scowling at everything, really, including the other residents. He's headed towards the lobby to see just how far out this winter wonderland extends.]

nothingtobelieve

[The sight of a man in a well-tailored suit carrying a katana might not be as uncommon in the castle as it would be elsewhere, but the look of pure, unadulterated rage on Vicious' face is probably enough to warn off all but the most cavalier of people. He's looking for something, and when he finds it, the journal picks up on it as well.]

Spike.

[There's a lot of venom behind that shouted name, and then the sounds of someone doing their best to dismantle a door with their bare hands and the occasional aid of a sword.]

[OOC: Feel free to run into him before he makes it to his destination, if you'd like a character infected, or are just looking for a very wrathful encounter.]

both_neither

[It was like any other battle on Titan. The sand and wind were screaming overhead, almost muffling the sound of gunfire all around them - the only way to pick their targets was by muzzle flashes amidst the storm.

Gren glanced at his sides - at his comrades - checking that he hadn’t lost his squad somewhere in the howling stands. On one side, a soldier was busy reloading with shaking hands, on the other, a familiar flash of silver as Vicious calmly fired off a few rounds before dropping to cover.

Suddenly, there was the sound of something heavy landing a few feet away. Another soldier screamed - “GET DOWN!”

They were running...leaping as hard as they could behind the next dune as the grenade exploded, sending even more sand spraying into the air around them. Gren hit the ground, covering his head as ears rang from the sound and then...nothing. No gunfire, no explosions, no screaming. All the sound seemed to have stopped.

He coughed and lifted his head up. Titan was gone. He was in a huge, high-ceiling room, with massive ornate staircases and chandeliers, hunkered behind a sofa of all things.]

Vicious? ...Guys? [He coughs again and tries to shake some of the sand from his cloak and hair] What happened?

[Vicious had thrown himself bodily behind the dune, where he should have collided with nothing but more sand, he instead hit an unyielding wall and floor, laying there stunned for a brief moment before realizing what was wrong, and grabbing for the knife at his hip.]

...Gren?

[He hadn't hit his head, but couldn't help squinting at the room around him as though he were seeing things.]

I’m here. I think... [He crawled to Vicious’ side, keeping low as if he expected a bullet to fly past him at any moment] Are we dead? That was an awfully close call...

[That was one thing accounted for, at least, although they seemed to be short an entire battlefield. He took a moment to look over the room.]

I doubt hell would be this well-appointed.

((ooc: loss start!. Soldiers in ur lobby, Para. Have at 'em. And there's a journal around somewhere, if that's more to your liking.))

nothingtobelieve

Someone's been redecorating the lawn.

[Which was something of an understatement given everything that was going on out there. There's a pause as a door creaks open.]

...and my room, it seems.

[Not that pulled back curtains and an open window really counted as 'redecorating,' but if he'd wanted fresh air and sunlight, he would have done it himself. He certainly doesn't sound happy about the intrusion.]

Related to the invitations, I take it.

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