Deer Country Network

[ The feed opens to... an unusual sight.

It’s no secret there’s been... bad blood between both Luna and Maul over the years, ever since she was part of a trio of magic users who cursed him a couple of years ago. There’s been... several very public call-outs on the network ever since then, too. Maul has been very vehement on his hatred towards the witch, and Luna has been equally open about her own distaste for the Sith Lord.

Which is why it’s a very curious thing to see the two of them currently sat together, albeit neither of them look particularly delighted about it. Although there’s a silent civility between the two of them, which for those watching is... quite a huge deal. ]

Hello, everyone. [ Luna speaks first, waving at the camera. ] We have some news for you all.

[ She looks to Maul briefly before clearing her throat: ]

In Deerington, death was a… process. Upon dying, we traveled to the Death Realm, which was created with the combined magics of Ramona Derwin, who we now know as Deerlona, and Cynthia Sodder — Moon Presence. Within this place was another, known as the Seventh Door. Sleepers who had died in the Dream were able to travel there once the door was unlocked, and a version of Ramona was held within.

For our sacrifice of life, she would grant us an ability. Her magics were able to mold our essences into a form… a deer, to be precise. We would be ourselves, but at our most purest form. However, when we became this form, we were granted abilities, too.

Unfortunately, when the Dream ended, we believed this form was lost as we were no longer linked to Ramona’s magic.

[Maul finally spoke up, sounding a touch sullen over working with Luna but otherwise at least in control of himself.]

After much research, we developed the theory that since Ramona used magic to seal herself off in a separate dimension where time no longer exists in a linear fashion, there is always going to be a version of her that is there and able to be accessed if one can only figure out the way to do so, regardless of what happened to corrupt her into a Beast in the present. We eventually created a ritual which allowed a doorway to be bridged between Trench and that dimension once again. I won’t go into the details. They don’t matter. All you need to know is that we succeeded. There is now a way to be transported to the pocket dimension to that version of Ramona who can grant us great power.

[He lapsed into silence, allowing Luna to take over once again.]

Life in Trench is… terribly difficult. [ Luna may have her own personal reasons for obtaining this form again, there is a very good reason to allow their fellow Sleepers access to this form again. ] It would be good to have all the help we can. Regardless of Ramona’s desperate actions in the end, she did genuinely want to help— dying wasn’t permanent because of her and Cynthia.

You don’t need to trust the Pthumerians or Ramona herself. I don’t. But I have accessed this ability before and can assure you it has been given to the Sleepers without any strings attached.

Provided you have died at least once in either the Dream or the Waking World, you’ll be able to perform a small and relatively simple blood ritual to…. get your copy of your key to the door, sort of speak. From then on, all you’ll need to do is a small ritual each time you want to use the ability.

I can provide instructions immediately to those interested, but I’ll work out a way to get the information out more easily to everyone at a later date.

A note of caution to those who go through with this. It is possible to lose yourself to the deer form and its instincts if you stay in it too long. Many of the deer which roam the city were once Sleepers who have since forgotten they ever had another shape. They can no longer change back. There are ways to bring one back. You must know a person well and know what motivation would be enough to make them change shape once again. [For Maul, it was challenging him to a fight or engaging him flat-out in one that got him back, though he was hardly going to mention that on the network.] And to show you how it is done–

[Here it was that Maul went slightly off-script. He and Luna hadn’t discussed this part but Maul had always been extra and dramatic as all the Sleepers already knew. So he’d had the ritual prepared to go. All it needed was a small amount of his blood to work, so he gave a few drops of his Vileblood to complete it. To those watching, all they would see was Maul dissolve into purple dust. When it reformed, there would be a very spooky-looking deer in his place. Somehow, it seemed to fit Maul’s personality completely. He pulled himself up to his full height and tossed his antlers back as if to acknowledge that he knew just how dramatic he was being.

… Maul absolutely did not mention this part. Luna visibly looks confused for a beat and then stares widely as he dissolves into purple dust and the form of a deer takes his place. Her expression shifts in a flat look. Really, Maul—? ]

... Well, if anyone has any questions...

ooc: Blue is Luna, Red is Maul. | ooc page for this mechanic is here.

[ Following this broadcast on the network.] ]

Hello, everyone. This is Luna Lovegood.

I've left this open to all, but I'm reaching out those who knew Deerington. I thought this may be the best way to reach out, it's hard to know how many of us are left who came directly from the Dream. Another Sleeper has mentioned that they've been able to contact Ramona in Sleepy Town, something I didn't even know possible. But it has made me wonder about something.

How many of us died in the Dream? And of those, how many of us went through the door and received her gift? The one to transform into a deer?

Ramona's magic that helped us with death and coming back is gone. We don't have our antler tattoos anymore. But maybe we can still become deer, maybe that power is still there in all of us.

I know we all have our own thoughts and opinions on the ones we voted over on their fates. What happened to Ramona Derwin has never sat right with me. I think were wrong to Awaken her. I know it turned out to be what a lot of people chose for her, but... to condemn her to Beasthood? I suppose I could hardly blame her fear of returning to being nothing more than a fictional character, to the uncertainty of existing if she went back. Julia made her real. I wished she'd been Sacrificed.

I wish things could be different. I want to tell her I'm sorry.

Maybe the only way I can tell her is if I'm a deer, but I don't know if it's possible to become it again. My Death Statue is in Sleepy Town, but the danger is too great to go there again. I have to find another way, if I can.

( The feed opens up to a young man sitting on a bed in a dimly-lit bedroom. Dark circles blossom beneath his eyes like bruises. To say he seems nervous is an understatement. His general body language is tense and a bit withdrawn, and it isn't difficult to spot the way his hands literally tremble as he places them in his lap, or the way his voice shakes here and there at the edges. )

Hey there. I'm uh— not sure how many people might already know me, but I'm Peter. Peter Graham. I don't think I've ever like.... really introduced myself on this thing, but I've been here for a while. I was in Deerington, too.

( He gives a shy little smile that looks more like a wince, something almost apologetic. )

I'm not— I'm not too good at this kind of thing. But I wanted to ask something, something I've been thinking about for.... awhile. I guess this is going to sound kind of weird. ( An awkward pause, and then Peter's leaning to reach for a little sheet of paper, holding it in his hands. Yes, it seems that he's written down what beats to hit.... )

Got my notes. ( Another pained little smile, before the expression slowly sobers into a frown, and his eyes are dropping down to look at his paper. )

Does anyone have any experience with...... séances? Or any information about them in general? Um.... I know what they basically are, what they're meant to.... do. To open a door— a veil? To communicate with someone who's died.

( There's the softest flutter of Peter's eyelids, and a gentle exhale, before he continues. )

But is it possible that they can do... more than that? Maybe something else could get through the veil? Something that isn't.... the ghost that a person was trying to talk to. Something that maybe even isn't a ghost at all?

Is it possible that someone could make that happen.... intentionally?

( Peter has to take a few moments to breathe, heart pattering away anxiously in its ribcage. All of this is exceptionally difficult for him to address. )

....Whatever you might know, or could tell me. There are things that... happened, back in my own world, and I'm still.... trying to understand. I've been learning more about the uh... supernatural, from people here. But I figured I would open this up to the public, get as much information as I can.

It's okay if you don't wanna tell who you are though, if you'd rather go anonymous. I know this kind of stuff can be.... weird. Um, personal. ( The lump in his throat tightens, as he slowly reaches to end the message. )

Thanks for listening. I— I appreciate it.

[Lexi sits on her couch with her batcats, Nosferatmew, Mewnos: The Paws of Fate, and her non-batcat, Mewdemic sitting nearby. Orville, her hedgehog Omen, is sitting on his usual place on Lexi's shoulder]

Uh...hey. This is gonna sound weird after the whole Paleblood issue thing, but. I'm a Darkblood and I can feel my powers acting normal. See? [she lifts a large pile of books on her endtable telekinetically]

But I feel like something's wrong. Something bad. Really, really bad. And I can't shake that feeling, it's been keeping me up at nights and I feel...I guess 'paranoid' is the right word for it? I dunno.

[she sighs] Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing, I don't know, but if anyone else is feeling the same way? Please let me know. I can't be the only one this is happening to.

Right?

[The feed opens up to an unnaturally beautiful garden. For those familiar with Ange Ushiromiyra or Beatrice's magic they'll certainly recognize the golden butterflies fluttering about the and resting upon the golden roses. While this area looks nothing like Trench, one of the carnivorous plants can be seen going to snap at one of the butterflies.

Only for Ruby Rose to pop up on the screen and slices the plant in two with a scythe made of scythe made of pure energy that she had not been seen with before. In fact she seemed incredibly energetic for someone who should be dealing with the draining effect on cold bloods this month. She's also dressed surprisingly formal for her usually very goth tendencies. She quickly dusts herself off and looks to whatever is projecting the Feed.]

Sorry about that. Just dealing with a few nasty pests that stumbled in here.

Speaking of which~!

I thought it would be fun to give everyone a little tour of The Golden Land my beautiful wife, The Golden Witch Ange Ushiromiya has created.

[The feed turns shows off the beautiful Garden, along with a gazebo with a table set for a tea party beneath it, a massive hedge maze that contains various doors that poke out from the overgrowth unnaturally. As they pass by a couple of the doors one might hear a few bangs or something that might sound like finger nails raking on the doors. Ruby seems to ignore it until she notices one slowly start to open and she'll step in to slam it shut and lock it with a key before turning back to the camera.]

Oh, just ignore that! Some people get a little rambunctious waiting for dinner, you know?

[Speaking of dinner, the next door in the hedge maze is open, and it leads to an extravagant kitchen. Inside that kitchen, one Xerxes Break is not making dinner. He is sitting cross-legged on the table, forming bits of crust into an intricate top for a terribly pretty pie. He has already made cookies and some wads of frosting shaped like roses that probably have cupcakes underneath, and is having a grand time. He glances up as Ruby steals a cookie.]

There you are. When you've finished whatever you're up to, come see me, would you? I was thinking we ought to come up with a present to make for Miss Ange. [As he speaks, he picks up a fork and casually hurls it off to the side somewhere. There's a thunk, and the angry gurgling of another carnivorous plant that tried to follow Ruby in.] Since she's made us such a lovely new home, we ought to make something really great for her too, don't you think?

[Quite frankly sitting on tables and throwing cutlery is just normal Break behavior. But those who recognize him may notice that the one red eye he keeps visible has a distinct glow about it, and his ever present omen — who is on the floor nearby, happily chewing up a pumpkin someone has conjured for him — has all of his too many teeth out in a manic doggy grin he cannot quite seem to put away.]

[Ruby bounces on the balls of her feet in excitement.]

That's a great idea! I'll wrap this up quick!

[And quickly begins to float out of the kitchen and into a grand lobby that seems to be just as over grown as everything else. There is a Portrait of her and Ange that eventually stops by and presents with open arms.]

Any who wish to visit this wonderful world created by our Golden Witch, Ange Ushiromiya are welcome to.

But please try not to cause any problems. I'll only politely ask you to leave once.

[And the feed closes with a smile that seems almost a little too sweet as she again grips that large scythe.]

[OOC Purple is Break.

TLDR Ange has made an interdimensional hidey hole centralized There will be a log coming up in the next few days to explore the area and have some fun!]

[Savage almost never posting to the network, but with all the people being affected by this upcoming heart day, he figured there were answers that were necessary to make it survivable. Or at least probably less anger-inducing because people were insufferable overall.]

This... Valentine's Day thing. It's for mates to reaffirm their bond to one another from what I have gathered.

What do all the singles supposed to do? We don't have such a day like this where I'm from, and our mates generally despise us anyway, so nothing like this would work.

It seems last year it was some single people being sad and pathetic. I assume there is something single people are supposed to do that I'm missing.

[He may as well try to learn some traditions beyond his own. He's never had to frantically try speed dating; their version was a fight to the death to impress a Nightsister, so it was short-lived for some.]

Good evening.

[Vira-Lorr looked reasonably relaxed, if a little more serious than she liked to be. She was currently inside of her home office, which meant that it looked like something out of a Gypsy's playbook. A crystal ball was in the corner. Various superstitious baubles were everywhere. A deck of tarot cards was on the table, pushed to the side. Incense wafted in the room.]

With some assistance over the last year, I've been doing research on sleeper squid ink. Years ago, we had something similar that had a curative property. I have been trying to recreate it. I am sure that the Doorway would not love that I am offering this in her month, but for some of us? Connection can be painful. It is the best way to stave off corruption, but it comes with a price. Not everyone is willing to pay it. So, I wanted to try and offer an ... alternative.

[She held up a vial of black liquid. It glowed very faintly.]

I cannot guarantee these work. We're at the point where there's only one way to be sure. Live, sleeper testing. Their purpose is simple. To alleviate the symptoms of corruption. It likely will never cure a person, but it could ease the symptoms long enough to get them to help, such as the Night Walkers or the Luminarium. That's the goal.

...

But this is Trench. I think we all know that the odds are that until it's perfected? It could do the exact opposite. So, there's a bit of risk in participating. However, if any of you are willing? I am testing the mixture of blood to reagent mixture in these. Once it's fine tuned, I will make the recipe available so it's possible for people to make more. You may speak to me at any time to ask.

Oh, and before anyone asks? I've managed to get a few donations of ink that I acquired through various sources. So they're not from any one particular sleeper. I didn't want that to complicate findings, especially if the goal is for others to make their own with the recipe.

(OOC: This is a minor Player Plot! Live Human testing of an "Antidote" similar to the one in Deerington, which was created with squid ink too! The short version is simple: Feel free to have your character take a sample and use it when they experience corruption. They may feel temporary alleviation, or it could make the symptoms worse. That's entirely up to you. Sometime in the next month or two, Vira-Lorr will post her findings, and her success or failure will be up to the mods.)

[Maul was sitting outside on his roof, the snow softly coming down around him, hood up so they didn't land on his head. There was a soft, contemplative look on his face that he didn't often wear. For those that knew Maul, they'd realize there was one big change. His eyes, which had constantly been a golden color before, were now instead a grey-brown.

Next to him, looking perfectly fine with this cold weather due to the fur that made him little more than a ball of fluff, was his Mankey, named rather fittingly Cranky. Though Maul seemed unaware of it, the Pokémon was imitating his master in body language perfectly right now, sitting down with his arms folded and staring off into the distance. Mankey see, Mankey do and all that.

There was a long pause before he began the video. He was woolgathering and trying to put everything together, saying it in just the right way.]

For anyone I teach, classes will commence again now that I am back. [There was a pause.] In case you were unaware, I made a long journey to my home galaxy for about three years, though I understand I was only gone for about a week here. I had....quite the experience just before I came back with the Dark Side of the Force. I had to face a great many things about myself and learn some hard truths. But while I could not accept what it had to offer me then, I think I am ready to now. To let go of the past, to put some of my pain behind me, to gain more power than I ever thought I could.

[Always with the search of power. He couldn't help it, such a thing was ingrained into him by now.]

It taught me to let go of fear and pain and instead learn to care about others, to keep anger close, but never to let it turn self-destructive. Things many of you have told me here but which I did not want to listen to. But who am I to deny it when the Force itself tells me such things? [There was a soft laugh.] Well, I have returned and don't plan to go anywhere, much to the misfortune of some of you.....But this has proven an interesting experience, one I shall take heed of going forward.

HELLO YOU WONDERFUL AND AMAZING PEOPLE OF TRENCH!

[Are your eardrums ringing from that enthusiastic greeting? Usagi is already incredibly complimentary and encouraging to her friends to begin with, so her suddenly being compelled to be MORE complimentary and encouraging?

Well, it's led to... this. No one should be shocked that the rabbit is now amped to the nth degree.]

LET'S ALL GIVE THE PEOPLE WE CARE FOR COMPLIMENTS!

We've done the whole "insult and edgy dirt nonsense" on people thing but time for some love! Cause who doesn't love love?

And I don't mean like, backhanded compliments. Real compliments! Good compliments! [She pumps a fist.] You can totally do it! I believe in each and every one of you!

And if you really, really, REALLY cannot give someone ELSE a compliment, give yourself one! You deserve one, too!

As is usual when I turn to this device, I have a query to ask of you.

Due to the odd prevalence of them as of late, I have found myself wondering: Why are children so juvenile? Is there any particular purpose to them or their behavior? Would it not be better for all involved to avoid this state altogether?

[She may speak in an almost deadpan manner, but it's pretty clear Echo's asking this with 100% interest and sincerity.

She gives a quick bow of her head.]

Thank you.

Theres a new heading on my compass
Are others getting this signal too
Even at the Outpost its glowing

Checking out that ways gonna take some setup same as last time
Incense weepers protective gear
The woods are no joke and the corruption is almost nonstop
Dont go out there unprepared and just become a liability someone else has to deal with

Best bet is at least four people in a group if not more for safety and sleep rotations
Someone with fire for sure
Healer helps a lot

Seriously do not forget the mushrooms

Anyone wanting to squad up can meet me at the outpost before daybreak tomorrow
Best to travel in daytime and defend at night
If anyone has a lantern to donate or use please bring it so we can stake out whats out there and save the travel later

Chizuru
K
You dont have to open up the roost if you dont want to while im out
Up to you
I know theres some shedding stuff going on thats causing some chaos

[Vira-Lorr had reached a point of being more active gradually, and one of her new years resolutions was to make herself useful. All of that came face to face, however, with an innocent and well-intentioned gift on her door front. The video shows an utterly innocuous sight. It's a box. There's a half dozen cans of chicken noodle soup, some tissues and a bottle of orange juice in it. There's an actual gas mask next to it, and Vira-Lorr's shaking hand clenches a hand-scrawled note that reads...

DRINK THE JUICE.]

IS THIS SOMEONE'S IDEA OF A SICK JOKE?!? [She's seething, breathing hard, through her teeth.]

I swear, I will tan your hide if one of you is pranking me!!! Do not joke about this! First I almost fall into a freaking sinkhole and have to kill a zombie, and now THIS?!?

[Huh? What?]

(OOC: Vira-Lorr's having a wee bit of a flashback because that package? Oh, she recognizes it. And it stems back to an old event in the previous game that was very traumatizing.]

[ The feed opens to Ozpin's library in the rebuilt Clockhouse: gone is the overgrowth of red and blue flowers, and instead the room is a clutter of green and purple furniture, overwrought gold filigree, and a few cleverly hidden carvings of butts. He has clearly tried to position the camera away from most of the chaos, so it centers Ozpin at his desk with a stack of fairytale books. He still looks pale and gaunt with simmering Corruption; there is a glint of vampire's fangs in his polite smile. ]

Good evening, Sleepers. For those who do not know me, my name is Professor Ozpin. I teach those who would stand against monsters, and in payment I often ask for the stories they've brought from their worlds... fairy tales of heroes, villains, and fools. I find there is always a grain of truth in every fable, and certainly wisdom to be gained from the sharing of it.

I am one of those who was present in the dream called Deerington. I find that our numbers feel lower, as of late... and I fear that someday, the stories of that dream shall be lost.

A few among us may recall the August of two years ago, a festival of peace and music. We honored the death of Cynthia Sodder, now reborn as the Moon Presence, with stories for her spirit and flowers for her grave. [ He takes on a wry, more distant smile. ] To lay flowers on a grave is an old tradition indeed. But I think it's the stories that are of more use - for the one telling them, not only the one told.

Cynthia was a being caged by the stories told about her. Her daughter, Julia Sodder, suffered the same fate. Many Sleepers remember her as a child... but in this era, the people of Deer Country only seem to remember her by the nightmares she brought to life.

A very wise young man [ his smile softens ] once helped me see past that view. I thought, perhaps, in this month of quiet and reflection, we might share more hopeful stories with the girl now lost. Her spirit still dwells in Sleepy Town, and so - myself, Oscar Pine, and Paul Atreides - now propose a new festival, in the spirit of the season. We shall gather at those grand wooden gates to tell hopeful tales of heroes, of community, and of mistakes that did not mean the end.

You see... the end we chose for her was a mistake. I should like to undertake some act, however small, to ease her eternal pain.

[ that got weirdly dire, thanks Ozpin ]

You may find us at the gates of Sleepy Town for the remainder of the month, telling what stories we think a lost girl may choose to believe in. I hope to see you there.

[[ If your character would like to share a story for Julia (or another NPC), see here for player plot info! ]]

Alright, bitches. It's apparently been a hella long time since I've graced anyone in this timeline with my presence. I tried the whole reaching out one by one thing so as not to shock the system, but that shit got time consuming and my attention span is only so strong.

So, if you remember me, tell me, and maybe fill me in on important life developments. Or like. Just leave me a meme that sums up this shit hole the best.

...

Actually, everyone should leave me one of those. Chop, chop, get to it. Whenever Santa's elves aren't busy trying to eat your fucking face off or whatever.

[ She goes to shut off the feed but flicks it on literally two seconds later. ]

Is there weed in this place, by the way? Asking for a friend.

[Vira-Lorr was not doing well. On the surface, it wasn't going to be obvious. The omni showed her on the shoreline of Trench, bundled up and watching out to the iceflows of the winter. There were, in the background, greeters tending to the last steps of the arrivals. The beasts from the ocean weren't breaking out of the ice right now, and it was past the usual time for sleepers to wash up, so the winter festivities were being closed up. Everything was safe. She just looked like she was finishing up a vigil. Anyone who knew her knew that she did this every month. She was usually waiting for a few people in particular. She just ... didn't publicize it like this.

Her eyes were rimmed red. It was clear that she'd been crying, but she wasn't doing it currently. Instead, she was smiling, though it was a distant and pained thing. One hand reached up to rest on her shoulder, to feel where the mark had been placed.]

I... don't need to tell some of you this. You will know. You always do. This is for other people in town who might care.

[Usagi would know. She didn't name Serenity, but she knew that she would know that a Senshi had departed, and if she knew then Makoto and Hotaru would know very quickly afterwards. Either by connection, or being told. This message wasn't specifically to tell them that Venus had gone home, though she would appreciate hearing from her friends. It was for the ones who weren't connected like they had been, like she had been.]

My wife, Minako Aino, is fine. She has safely returned to the sea. I felt the distance as it progressed, and ... I know that nothing caught her amongst the monsters below. She's safe. She will be safe in her home. I ... I want all of you who care about her to be certain of that.

[Her lips quivered a little and she sighed. She'd dealt with this before. How many people had she lost since the nightmares? How many had she tried to love? To get close to? Only to lose them too. She'd lost Minako twice now this way. She could handle it. Yet, this time was different. In so many ways it was different because deep down, she knew there was a chance Minako did not remember her where she was going. Usagi, Makoto, Hotaru, they would be reunited one day, but they might all forget her. It hurt.]

I'm fin... no, I'm not. I'm not going to lie. I'm not fine. My wife is gone, and I will come back every month to see if she returns to me, to us. I'm a patient woman. People have come back to me before. I have centuries to wait. My race gives me that luxury. but today hurts. A lot.

[There was a momentary pause and she sighed.]

I could probably use some company over the next few days. I'll be running the shop to help get my mind off of it, so if you need a reading, I just won't be a hundred percent is all. I've been very moody lately. Not sure why, but this is not helping.

( click this )

( a picture is worth a thousand words.)

[He still doesn't trust people, not here. Not anywhere, really. But he has to know. In a place this weird, he has to know.]

I'm just wondering... who here is not human? You don't need to tell me who you are if you don't want to, but I just want to get a sense for how many people who are not human are here.

I can't be the only one.

And a second question: is it safe for those who are not human here? I mean, I am definitely not like one of those beast things and I have no plans of attacking people. But human-dominated places tend to be somewhat unsafe for us.

And if you are some kind of mad scientist type reading this? Fuck off. We don't need people like you on our asses.

[Is that enough of a difference from his usual typing? He'll have to be careful about capitalization and punctuation so it sounds different from him, but...]

i: VIDEO PRIVATE to eden

[There's a saga before this that isn't broadcasted to the network at large, but only to Eden via drone: Mike's abduction on the way into Crenshaw, his bout of unconsciousness - the horror of waking, mouth stitched shut, in not quite unfamliar, bloody, hostile territory, clad only in a dull, red jumpsuit - the further horror of realizing he's chained to what amounts to nothing more than the headless upper half of what had once been a Sleeper. It's possible she's seen who and what their fate was. It's also possible she hasn't.

It's the standoff in the Sleeper Farm - floor after floor of dragging the remains of another Sleeper with him, up and up - even when his blood is functional enough he could be rid of the gory baggage he doesn't shed it - that would, in effect, be leaving a man behind, and what kind of thing is that to do? By the end of it, it's become a grudge. And by the time he's in front of that statue, all manner of organs in its hands, he gently unshackles his companion, and then himself, before stomping on the chains until they're no longer chains, but a mess of old wires that disintegrate into nothing but stains on the floor.

His endless rageful shouting - the stitches are long gone, left an aftertaste of ash that's as unwelcome as the rest of this, maybe even moreso.]

Del, to everyone!

ii: VIDEO PUBLIC: omen: username: TENSKULLS/MIKE ENSLIN

[His Omen is not instructed to contain the broadcast to the small circle Mike intends to ask, so she opens the line of communication to all of Trench instead. Mike may have meant "everyone" in the "Sword Wizards and Mike" way, but Delmira obeys in the literal sense.

Mike's blood and its monthly bonus of excitability is doing the Zealots no favors once he's up here. They're glitching as fast as they're moving, somehow they're not close enough to attack, they're never accurate enough, and then they're behind a bubble that's rendered them a slow motion haze, confused and barely audible through it, while he sits on a summoned chair, a growing pile of shirts at his feet that shows no signs of slowing. Every shirt is wrong. Wrong pattern, wrong color, wrong cut. That's a fucking video tape and:]

That is the wrong fucking thread count!! GOD DAMNIT!!!

[He is now screaming (nearly unintelligibly) I want!! MY SHIRT!! with the exact same vibe he'd once screamed as he attacked a mini fridge. If counted, it takes four hundred and ninety nine shirts to get the correct shirt back. And not that he's paying any mind at all to the Zealots besides hurling words:]

You circus freaks are either going to help me find it or you can fuck right off!!! I'm DONE!

[Wrong shirt.]

Why don't you close your eyes, imagine yourself being actually fucking scary, and then open them and weep, you ASSCLOWN!!!

[Two wrong shirts, but closer to anyone who knows the shirt.]

That was my lucky shirt! I was on my way to WORK, you fermented ball sack! My friends gave me that!! Like you know what friends are with that face! Clive Barker called, he wants his whole thing back!

I'm gonna kick you in the dick so hard your vertebrae pop out like a goddamn Pez Dispenser!!

[Not a shirt, but that's a rain of vertebrae shooting across the backdrop if one chooses to look. Mike doesn't - he's too busy yelling.

Shirts flicker out of existence as new ones appear in his hands, and when that last one comes, he goes quiet as he examines it, the flurry and whirl of bloodmad monstrosities outside his shield growing hazier still. He looks up at the statue with a cold calm, his hands clenching and then releasing the fabric, somehow angrier now that he's bunched it up. So he holds it gently now as the wall he'd conjured flickers, fades, and reveals a floor emptied of Zealots - just that statue and its organ offerings. Its blood.

Before he's able to make any further move, there's a pale, pulsing glow that replaces the fading bubble, a pearlescent shimmer as Moon Presence ends this scene just shy of sacrifice, and he's suddenly in his small, messy room at the Sanguine Station, (standing in front of a whole wall of photographs - daughter, wife, brother, various combinations - in most of which his own face is blurry) - holding a bloodied hawaiian shirt - the very same he'd donned for his first day at his new job - which he has now missed.

He looks down at his omen, the screen, blinking. Delmira blinks back, and shuts her eyes, so it's only Mike's voice that asks, after a pause:]

iii: VOICE PUBLIC: omen: username: TENSKULLS/MIKE ENSLIN

How the fuck do I get blood out of a good shirt?

[The video turns on and it's Maul, using his omen Venge to broadcast it. He looks serious like he's about to talk to Trench about a topic of great importance.]

For those unaware, this is the time of year when the Pthumerian or half-Pthumerian known as Santa Claus comes to Trench towards the end of the month. He can shift into many forms to fit into your home but most often looks like this.

[Venge, his Omen, turns to look at the picture that has been sketched of a fairly traditional 21st century Santa Maul has set up next to him. Yes, this presentation comes with pictures, all made by Maul himself]

Santa is one of the more benevolent Pthumerians though he is possessed of much stealth and cunning, making it difficult for people to interact with him. He is associated with deer as Sodder was but his chosen favored deer are reindeer. He uses his powers to make them fly.

[Another picture, this time showing the team of flying reindeer that looks like it was copied from an illustration of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas. This one is a little rougher, especially the reindeer, for drawing animals isn't Maul's forte.]

He loves the scent of pine and prefers if there are wreaths or full trees made of them left in the home when he visits. Those who leave him offerings of food and drink he will reward with presents. The offerings can be small such as this.

[Again, another picture showing a glass of milk and plate of cookies are shown with an equal sign followed by a small stack of presents underneath a Christmas tree that has been decorated rather....oddly with things like animal skulls and black ornaments on it.]

But he also accepts larger offerings if you wish for larger gifts. There appears to be no known way to prevent him from entering your homes but he doesn't appear to seem interested in causing harm to people, even those who fail to provide him hospitality. I have yet to run into him personally the past two years, but if anyone sees him, please let me know. I wish to test my fighting skills against him.

[.............Yes, Darth Maul just said he wants to fight Santa Claus. Will wonders never cease?]

[Johnny's letters have put her in a melancholy mood, wondering about paths taken and those refused outright. wondering what she could have done differently, better. even before she came here.

would Cal have been so cruel if she had opened her heart to him as he requested? or would it have made matters worse for everyone, her having to split her affections? in such a competition, only one could win, even if it wasn't herself.

but she would have accepted it if it had meant that Jack and Cal could have come to terms, even if it were over her corpse? yes. yes, she would've]

I assume we all have our...regrets. Things we wish we could have done differently, solutions we did not see in the heat of the moment. How do you all cope with those regrets or do they haunt you, still?

You needn't identify yourself. Such confessions almost demand anonymity and will hold no sense of judgement on my part. It's not for me to confirm or condemn for in the end, we're all answerable to ourselves.