Huh? [You may not recognise this one teenager's voice by itself, but it would be hard to miss the distinct tinge of nervous suspicion.] All of a sudden... H-How should I know where your stuff is? ...I dunno, left on someone's rabbit? Under the bed?

[That's the entire recording. This isn't the best day he's ever had.]

Is--mething ppening again? M--ight is acting ierd again. And there as the quakes. Everyone is okay, right?

[ it has been a while since Kaworu showed his face and made a post, hasn't it? This time around he is at the park. His really pale skin is red from the sun - probably burnt, too, because Kaworu is like an albino - and it's obvious he is feeling the heat, but he is sitting under a tree in the shade ]

Hello. [ have a gentle smile, everyone! ] I hope everyone is alright, even though recent events show us it is getting more dangerous. Even so, there is still much to see and learn in this world. Only recently I've found there are small fans to place inside houses to refresh the place. [ yeah he didn't know about that sort of fans )8 ] Even after so long here, there is much for me to learn.

I suppose it makes me curious: what is the most fascinating thing you have seen in this world?

I do have another question. [ but of course. And it'll be a bit more personal ] After the war has ended and if the Gods and the travelers win, would you wish to stay in this world, or would you rather return? And why?

[ He's calm. Perfectly serene, simple as a kettle of fish. To anyone who's spoken to Albus, that shouldn't be particularly surprising.

But it is a bit at odds with the rest of the higgledy-piggledy, ridiculous scene. Scarves, caps, and little knitted cozies litter every visible surface, falling as he reaches up to adjust the (yarn-covered) stems of his spectacles. Thick marker covers his face in three different colours, smudged where it's rubbed off against the desk. The mustache and unibrow are quite traditional, less so, the extensive sequence of elvish poetry.

It's been a long two weeks. ]

Hello, Asgard.

[ He sounds rather cheerful for it all. It's not immediately clear whether he's even noticed anything out of the ordinary. ]

I seem to have rather lost track of the time -- dreadfully sorry if I've missed an engagement in the past, ah. However long it's been. Could anyone perhaps fill me in? I see there's been a spot of trouble with the cold.

[ He tips his head to the side, and two puffy hats fall to the floor. ]

I do hope that you're all quite well, and I cannot understate how positively thrilled I am to find our wonderful school still standing. On that note, if those remaining members of the board might contact me, I feel a small discussion may be in order, regarding future plans and purpose.

[ Considering the bracelet for a moment, Albus seems to come to a decision. Letting out a short, warbling shriek, he then smiles, and cuts the feed. Those familiar may recognize the utterly delightful, melodic strains of Mermish: I received your message.

Well. Nothing out of the ordinary, there. ]

[Roland sits amid wood, nails, and wire, scattered in a few small piles across the overgrown back yard. A little ways behind him, eagle-eyed viewers might notice a chicken in the process of laying an egg.]

Fiona Gallagher's... gone home. She, ah-- [He shakes his head, starts over, nodding at the house his camera's not at the right angle to show.] Anything in there's fair game. Odin 107, I mean. I won't be needing any of it. The door'll be open. Probably food and furniture, mostly - anything in the cupboards or refrigerator, anything not nailed down, bar the refrigerator and stove. I think the place came with those. [He shakes his head again, realizing he might be starting to ramble.] Doesn't matter. Corn, beans, squash plants in the back. Take them. Can probably see 'em behind me somewhere.

[Another chicken starts to peck at his sleeve and he lifts his arm, blinking at it.]  Ah. Couple chickens, if you can catch them. Is that all? I think... I could probably use a couple extra hands to get all this wood and a couple of these plants over to Freyr district. And I... to be honest, I could probably use the company.

Bowls. I'll need a few of the bowls to transport these plants in. Other than that... Plates, silverware, clothes, bedding. Doesn't matter. I'll be leaving once it's empty. If I'm not here, don't take any of the magic plants. I'll find you. [The tone of that last is too absent for it to sound like a threat. It sounds, if anything, like an afterthought.]

The door's open. Have I said... [He has, probably. Roland shakes his head again, grimacing at himself, and cuts the feed.]



(ooc: If your character would drop by, this post doubles as a log post. Either prose or this format works, I'm comfortable with either.)

[Helena has been here for about two months now and has spent much of that time sulking and skulking instead of shoving her face all over the network. Not without reason, since hers is more of a shared face, and she hasn't wanted to broadcast that too much.]

[She's done a little digging about the topic at hand already, but there's one thing she wants - personal touches, experiences. Basics are one thing. Environment and interaction are another.]

i must know about the shadow control

tell me all that you know

all that you think is important

please

[She wants as much information as she can get, before she tries to use it again.]

So with shit getting serious, are we still going to have the same old with dying? We all still come back?

[He's bitter, angry, scared, a glass or two into his cups and generally not fucking having it today. He's on his couch at home, feet propped up, glass of something amber in hand now.]

Who else here has been to the underworld? I have- and I have no intention of joining the souls down there.

Though I guess that bears the question, what's the afterlife like back home for you?

Got a question for those of you who've been here a while. Is it uncommon to get pulled back to your own world, get dragged back here to Asgard, and find yourself under a different god than you had before?

[And is it so abnormal for it to be a really, really big shift? No, not going there. There's more to this than a question, and he won't be surprised if it gets ignored in favor of...everything else. In fact, he's banking on what he has to say being more alluring than anything else.]

Seems a lot of us have been disappearing. For those keeping a list, go ahead and add the name of Barty Crouch Junior. I know plenty here had mixed feelings about him. [What an understatement.] If you didn't before, you might now. Shortly before I tried to get a hold of him and realized he wasn't with us anymore, he told me bluntly he started that fire we had not too long ago. Used a mirror to give it a slow burn so by the time it really caught on, he had an alibi. [That might sting a little more if Will hadn't...well, had worse.] Add "Harry Saxon" to that list, too. Seems he had some issues of his own before I got here.

[He'd add another name to that list, but he can't even bring himself to type the letters in that order. Or say it out loud. So it goes ignored for now as he essentially says "fuck everything tbh" because really, the people involved deserve some closure, and like hell if he's going to waste what energy he has contact everyone individually. That's too much effort for someone in his current state.]


[ooc. there will be hannibal season 2 spoilers in the comments, so head's up!]

... hey, uh. This is going to be a weird fucking question, but- [Ellie is scattered, sleepless. For those who have seen her as a poltiergiest the last week or so, take heart. She's alive again, even if she doesn't seem entirely herself yet.]

For the people who've died. Did you see anything weird? Or anyone? Especially a grey lady who talks about the Mother?

Because that really sounds like something one of you would have mentioned, if it happened.

[It's immediately clear that Ryan looks and feels like death warmed over. He's exhausted, pale to the point of looking almost ill, disheveled-- and there's none of the usual expressiveness in his weary face, no interest as he looks at the feed. No light in his eyes.

He pushes his hair out of his face, exhales; his tone is just as lackluster as his expression, utterly worn out.]

So. Guess we're hitting that point, yeah? You saw the message yesterday. It's not the only one, and I get the feeling neither of these is going to be the last. It's all starting to roll downhill. Unravel. Fall apart. Pick your overdone metaphor, it means the same damn thing.

[He stops there for a moment, with a brief false start before he shakes his head and continues on.] And what I want to know is- what are we even accomplishing, here? What are we doing-- we get told we're changing destiny, we're going to save the worlds, but you can see what's happening now. Maybe we delayed it but this is what happens when you try to fight what's meant to be, when you try to push at what wants to happen. It pushes back at you. It lets you know you can try all you damn well want, but it's going to have its way in the end. I mean, what-- it was supposed to be this war ending it, wasn't it? That final battle? We changed that. The Big One hasn't really gone down but just look at this, things are ending no matter what we do.

All of this, all of the shit we've done, it's a dam. That's all. It's holding the flood back as well as it can but it's still raining, isn't it? It's not going to stop raining. And eventually it's going to overflow no matter how high we keep building, because we can only do so much and this is bigger and more persistent than any of us are. We're just pulling the bandage off slowly and it's only going to hurt worse for that in the end.

[This time, the pause is longer. Ryan leans back away from the screen, the back of his chair propping him up, and just eyes the feed for a few moments; when he carries on again, there's finally something more to his voice, something hurt and angry and broken that rises while he speaks 'til it's near feverish.]

So what do we do now. Are we going to acknowledge it's not going to work, or are we going to keep at this while worlds shrivel up one by one? Are we going to keep pretending we're doing anything at all until not a single fucking person here has a home to save anymore? And what about us, what about the people who've already lost everything--

[It's there that his breath hitches, catching in his throat, and the anger floods out of him all at once. He almost visibly deflates, exhaling one more shaky breath, his voice small.]

What are we supposed to do now? Tell me that. What do we do now.

[The Henry in the recording is as calm as usual- if a little subdued. Like most others in the city, he's been affected by the memory loss, but he's more confused than troubled by it, absently petting a rather fluffy cat as he addresses the screen.]

Well... it's sounded like a lot of folk are having problems with their memories, right? Either stuff in Asgard, or back home- and I guess that can be kind of scary for a lot of people. But I was wondering if, uh- if things were better off this way? For anyone else. Like, I'm sure there's good things I've forgotten too, but... as long as I remember this place, I think I'm okay with that!

[The laughter's not unusual, even the tone is probably familiar to anyone who's heard him- but it's more natural, a reflection of actual emotion.]

I think the gods kind of owe us~ So if they can keep from sorting this out- wouldn't that be awesome? There's got to be other people who're happy staying this way! In any case- do we have any leads on what's causing this? As useless as the gods are, I don't think even they'd inflict something like this on us now. We're not much of a fighting force at the moment. Even I'm not- I mean, I know what I've done here, but I don't really get why.

So even if it's dangerous... is it wrong to kind of want things to stay like this?