[ fifty-one ]

[fatespoken]

∞ [ private to self][ not hackable ]

[ as noted on a private entry on his device ]


TO BUY:
→ Cat Food
→ Ledge?
or
→Picture Frames
→ Captain Morgan
→ Gloves

[ on the table in his living room, placed on top of a photograph there's small sheet of paper covered in neat handwritten print— ]


Out of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look’d on you,
For I fear’d I might afterward lose you.

(Now we have met, we have look’d, we are safe;
Return in peace to the ocean, my love;
I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated;
Behold the great rondure—the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour, carrying us diverse—yet cannot carry us diverse for ever;
Be not impatient—a little space—Know you, I salute the air, the ocean and the
land,
Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.)

-- that's the one you liked, wasn't it? I remember.

[/private]



∞ [ private to peter pevensie ][ not hackable]

I found a picture of yours.

[/private]



∞ [ private to shilo ][ not hackable ]

Hey, Shilo. I think I have something that belongs to you.

[/private]



∞ [ private to adrian veidt ][ not hackable]

If you want it, I'll drop it come pick it up tomorrow. Otherwise it's going in the trash.

[/private]



∞ [ private to eden ][ not hackable ]

I have one of your pictures. You don't have to answer this if you don't want to. I'll slip it into your mailbox, otherwise.

[/private]


Wasn't that bad of a curse this time around, assuming you aren't some type of water creature. I'm referring to the deluge of photos, not the collective fashion disaster. For all their misgivings and idiotic April Fools jokes, you have to at least admire the ingenuity of some of their tricks. The logistics of plucking specific memories from an entire City full of people, transposing them photo form is hardly simple. To stick their hands into our brains, so many brains, without fucking anything up, admittedly takes skill.

Still, most of their tricks are moronic and pointless.

A LATER EDIT: No, it's not 80's night at the Blue Light. No, you won't get a discount if you come in costume.

[ ooc: Backdated to Saturday around 7 PM? The links in the private entry are real links, except pretend they are from stores in the City.

He is also cursed and currently dressed in gray ACID (sob typo) wash jeans, chucks, oversized sweatshirt, and eyeliner. If you are a Broo Lightian, you are free to comment log. And laugh at the fact that his balls can't breathe. DX Yes, even his hair has more body. ]

Comments

audio; 80s night is better than ladies night

[adamantined]

You have that?

[She sounds AMAZED from somewhere in dry stock.]

audio; /plays that song now

[fatespoken]

Far more than you'd expect. [ here goes a bemused smile ] With how much faith you have in me.

audio; /boogies down 1/2

[adamantined]

Give me a reason outside somehow, inexplicably, making bank when you work, and I'll have a better kind of faith in you.

audio;

[adamantined]

[And now quiet, like she doesn't want anyone to hear this.]

Thanks for giving my picture back.

audio; 1/2

[fatespoken]

I have no reason to prove myself to you, Claire. Believe what you want to believe about me, it's of no importance.

audio 2/2

[fatespoken]

[ In the same tone of voice he's used this entire time. ]

You're welcome.

audio 1/2

[adamantined]

I do believe what I want to believe about you. That hasn't changed.

[Which is mainly that there is more than meets the eye but that is neither here nor there.]

audio

[adamantined]

That was the only one?

audio 1/2

[fatespoken]

The only one I found. I wouldn't keep it from you, if there was.

audio

[fatespoken]

I haven't seen you on the floor tonight.

audio 1/2

[adamantined]

Well, I appreciate that.

audio

[adamantined]

I'm filling up the sugar caddies and rolling silverware.

audio

[fatespoken]

But it looks like a busy night tonight. You should give Ginny a hand.

audio

[adamantined]

Ginny has a wand.

audio

[fatespoken]

Yes, she has a wand. Do you have a problem with witches, Claire?

audio

[adamantined]

Yes. I have so much of a problem that I live with two.

audio

[fatespoken]

Then you should go out there and help her.

[ He's curious, okay. ]

audio

[adamantined]

Are you at the bar?

[Die in a fire, Amory.]

audio

[fatespoken]

Where else would I be on a Saturday night?

audio

[adamantined]

I was hoping under a rock somewhere but -

[EXASPERATED SIGH and a door opens.]

I swear to God, if you laugh at me I'm going to break a glass in your eyes.

audio

[fatespoken]

[ ... and surprisingly, or surprisingly not, Amory doesn't laugh. What room does he have to laugh when he's dressed up as he is? ]

You dressed as an idiot like the rest of us. Don't consider yourself a special case.

ACTION?

[adamantined]

[Claire suddenly appears with her arms crossed and her hair outrageously teased. She's gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to 80's high fashion: somewhere along the lines of suburban middle class.]

I'm too busy considering you a headcase.

time won't give me time;

[fatespoken]

[ He raises an eyebrow to this, the edge of straight front teeth catching his bottom lip to save himself from a laugh. He told himself he wasn't going to laugh, prepared himself for it, but seeing Claire in full light decked in 80's regalia is too laughable. Even when considering his eyelinered-self. ]

Gorgeous, Claire.

time won't give me time;

[adamantined]

Nice pants, Amory.

[This is said as she bends behind the bar to pick out the apron that she stored there earlier on her way in, before most of the other staff arrived so that she could escape marginally unscathed. The majority of her appearance wouldn't be so awful if not for her hair.]

Don't forget. You. Glass. Your eyes.

time won't give me time;

[fatespoken]

[ The mention of pants returns him to the discomfort he had earlier shunted out of his mind. Why do they make pants this tight? Why would anyone wear pants that would crush their balls? These are all questions that have stumped Amory tonight, questions that are better left to his mind's voice and not to Claire's ears.

He pulls at one suffocating pant leg absentmindedly, all while making his observation of her bird's nest unmistakable. It's impossible not to stare. ]

Because you're really that frightening.