[When Dave's feed turns on, nothing seems all that out of place. Dave's broken Royal Deringer is mounted on the wall and his bed is unmade. The table is littered with miscellaneous stuff. Probably things that Dave drew and brought to life.]

So, war is basically sitting at our doorstep. Oh boy.

[Moving on from the obvious. Dave's actually really nonchalant about this. But meteors aren't falling from the sky to destroy them, so maybe he's a little desensitized. You kind of get over sudden ice spikes and flying debris when it's not the size of a city.] Drawing life is pretty fun. I like it. But I'm also very aware how fucking useless it is at level one. I don't think I can count how many times I've tried drawing something and forgot that it comes out at the same size as I drew it at. I have an army of tiny, paper bags. They can't carry jack shit, but I can put them on my fingers. [He may or may not have drawn faces on them.] The whole size thing can be a real pain in the ass.

I also may or may not have swords the size of toothpicks and blankets the size of handkerchiefs. [Not that he needs a sword. He's got one propped against his bed.] I wouldn't really trust a sword that was drawn at level one anyways.

But more about what's happening outside the walls. Has anyone had trouble with the debr- [As Dave speaks, a flaming stone crashes through his window. He turns his head to regard it for a moment.] Anyone know how to fix a window?

[Don't bother on wondering what's wrong with the bracelets today, travelers, because there's actually nothing wrong with them. The image is upside down because Jack is the one lying down like that, skinny legs resting on the back of the couch, his head almost touching the floor and making his hair spike in more directions than usual.

His question for the network sounds rather mundane and boring, especially for someone like Jack, but there's a grin on his face that shows there's more to it than it looks. Remember: never trust a prankster.]

Soooo. Pets are popular around here, right? Then tell me, what do you do when hair starts getting everywhere? [He pokes one of the cushions on the couch with his staff, and it's obvious he's exaggerating his story a little.] Extra points if it's rabbit fur you have tips for. Though I kinda doubt it because what I'm always seeing in the network is...

[His eyes widen.]

...dogs.

[And so does his grin. There's "mischief" written all over his expression. At times like this, Jack manages to look like the annoying teenager he died as.]

Geez, there's really have a huge amount of dogs around, isn't it? Do you guys think maybe I could borrow them from you? Rent them? Just for a day. It's for a little... experiment.

[Jack might just be vanishing very quickly off the screen, as if something very large has just grabbed him by his skinny ankles and hoisted him skywards. A gruff Aussie accent identifies the culprit of aforementioned Jacknabbing.]

NO! I don't want no bloody dingos running about the place. They're unhygienic. [And this has nothing to do with the fact he's petrified of them, nope.]

Hey! What are you-- [A snort.] Awww, it's our dear kangaroo jealous? Don't worry, Cottontail, your fur will forever be the only one in our--

[Jack can't finish because he's suddenly being shaken, and the feed ends... but not without showing a giant furry creature doing the shaking first.

Another normal day in the Guardians' home, yup.]

[By some miracle of being better prepared for nonsense because she just took a trip to the land of nonsense not two hours ago poking at buttons incessantly and almost breaking her watch before spotting someone in the hallways operating it and copying them nature, Sif has managed to turn on the recording. But 75% of the population might regret it, when they're treated to the angriest look ever.] Loki.

[You know how some people can communicate with one word things like I was gone for two hours, and you left Asgard go to the dumps, what the hell is wrong with you? Yes.] Am I to believe that in the blink of an eye you have brought so much destruction onto Asgard that we are forced to not only ask for reinforcements, but force them? What trick is this?

Show yourself, and face the consequences of your choices, as a good King would. [There is a pause.] Or is this to be my punishment... [Let's talk about traitors to the Throne, shall we? Aha mhm. Nope.] If this is the result of your reign, then all the fewer reasons to regret my choice.

[One more pause. Hold on. Wait for it. Wait. For. I-] That note was stupid.

[ooc; AND hello.]

[River is in the Freyr Welcome Hall and she is surrounded by cake. There are lines of cakes on tables and drinks set up. It is obviously intended to be a bit of a party.]

We have cake and drinks and music. We have a reason to celebrate being alive. We have the ability to dance on our feet and revel in each other.

Whoever you are, whatever you've done to survive, come by. Celebrate that you're still standing for a while.

[ Kaworu opts for video instead of audio. The particular reason is because he wishes to offer the network a gentle smile. It's needed after what happened, right? ]

I hope everyone is alright. And I hope those who left the city for a while enjoyed their time. [ "Hippie camp", that's what Samantha called it. Which brings the obvious question: ] What are hippies?

[ but either way, the point of this post is something else ]

I am also curious and would like to know if any of you knows anything about beings by the name of "Angels". The version you know from your world, at least. What you know about them, if they exist or if they are just stories. Anything you'd remember.


[ and now that is out of the way, finally there is another question. It has been a while since he has been philosophical, right? ]

And- if you don't mind answering, tell me: how many people know you? People that really know you, beyond your favorite color, favorite book or favorite song. Who knows what lurks in the depths of your mind, what captivates your soul and why? Who knows your passions, your fears, your desires? Who knows all these things about you and still accepts you, anyway? Still accepts you regardless.

[Backdated to day 342.]

There isn't a face in the feed yet, only a quick splay of rooftops and colored awnings. Whoever is filming right now appears to be chasing after something, and he sounds slightly winded.]

Asgard. City in the asshole of a pan-dimensional nexus. Home to a hella diverse collection of creatures and people. Also home to poor SOBs in rad shades cursed to grow furry appendages. Let us examine one in particular as he moves within this treacherous environment...

[And so the feed peeks over the edge of a roof, peering down into a semi-crowded street where one Dirk Strider (sporting a viciously-whipping blonde cat's tail) and one Davesprite (in all his winged glory) are currently having a stare off.

Davesprite is saying something -- it sounds vaguely like, "...ill-advised, one-way tickets to the Twilight Zone and there's no way I'm gonna give in to such a base impulse. No matter what kind of yankable vibe your tail is giving off right now." just as a shadow rises from the ground between Dirk's feet and gives the "furry noodle" (as it was just previously described a moment ago) a swift tug. Catboy yelps and spins, and Birdboy takes the opening by darting forward and giving the tail a quick tug.

(Whoever is filming lets out a low, soft chuckle.

Crows are douchebags.)]

-- you're going to lose feathers in a minute --

[That's Dirk as moves forward to swat at Crowboy, who hops backward on his toes without so much of a flick of his wings before taking off at a full run.]

Oh shit, someone needs his catnip! [That is called over Davesprite's shoulder as he vaults over a fence and darts out of sight.

Dave lifts the bracelet up and holds it above his head in a practiced sort of way. With his free hand, he cocks his thumb and index finger at the feed and smirks.]

Submitted for the approval of the Asgardian Nature Society. Part two coming in approximately four minutes.




[Sorry, not sorry, bros.]

Okay, so guys, hear me out-

[It's Ellie. A few of you folks might know her, but this is her first-ever post to the public at large. Because this shit is some important shit.]

I just found this actual working arcade and it is amazing -- but I have nobody to play with and I haven't got any quarters.

Or runes, whatever it is they take, they've got a square coin slot.

So, anyone want in?

I promise I'll pay you back and then some. In oranges, or horseback riding lessons, or archery lessons, or I'll clean your room. Whatever. You pick.

Okay... okay this 'random arrival' thing was cute. [This is as sarcastic as someone can be without holding up a sign saying I'M BEING SARCASTIC.]

Nice trick the gods pulled, ha ha everyone is laughing.

[Isaac is not laughing. His voice is deadpan, a little tight, and when he glances behind him, there's... another Isaac. They look practically identical, save for wearing different clothes, a slightly different hairstyle, and Isaac- the one making the post- takes a deep breath and looks back to the feed, still in. A little bit of shock.]

But this.

This is a little creepy.

[Another deep breath. Deep breaths are important when the Invasion of the Bodysnatchers goes from Tuesday night B Horror to actual real life.]

...any explanations?


[[ooc: other Isaac is fugitive_but_great! Threadjacking is encouraged everywhere, and other Isaac will tag around a bit/threadjack too.]]

[The video begins with what some may find a ghastly or morbid sight: the dead body of a black bird being held aloft by its wings which are pinched gingerly between the pale fingers of a small boy. Mordred stares at the small corpse with a quiet blank expression. The number of feathers that have been lost and a tell tale bite out of one of the wings suggests that Mordred did not kill this bird, but stumbled upon it in his wanderings through the park. 

Still he is transfixed by it. 

He begins to walk with it still clutched carefully in his hands, shifting it to his palm, wings toward the sky as if they might begin to move at any moment.] 

...Oidhe...

[He mumbles before shoving the heel of his boot into the dirt to mark that spot]

[The voice that comes on is light and cheerful and opens with a laugh.]

Hey hey- quick question guys. So I've talked to a few people over the past couple weeks, and I'm getting the idea that a lot of you aren't too keen on the whole 'murdering your fellow man' thing. Which totally surprises me, since I thought we were pulled here to murder things! Or fight a war, I guess.

So this is a little informal poll!

Uh- how many of you have killed someone before? Of your own species, or close enough! Cold blood, warm blood, lots of blood- method or reason don't really matter.

If you want to give details, that'd be awesome.

--I guess I should start, though, huh? I've killed loads of people. Like a lot! [More laughter.] Buuut my world's had at least two wars just in my lifetime, so there's never been any shortage of targets, nya ha ha!

Okay, your turn!

Citizens of Asgard. I come bearing only grave news this day. What I believe to be a spy, lurking in our very midst.

[ The camera pans over to a bound and gagged individual that some may in fact recognize from the tail end of the Utgard excursion. ]

He has aroused the suspicions of many with his peculiar behavior. The natives themselves have been able to confirm he is not one of them, as he has tried claiming.

Presently, he can be found in the custody of myself and Sir Gwaine. I wish to seek the council of everyone before we reach the city proper as it is a matter which undeniably concerns the safety of us all.

But as for myself, I would vote for execution to follow his questioning. I have seen firsthand what may happen with prisoners during war. They conspire to escape and wreak further havoc, squandering mercy and endangering good men.

(ooc: edited in-character to clarify.

don't forget about the poll going on. if you've already voted but your character's opinion has been swayed in this post then simply update your vote!)