Deer Country Network

( The feed opens to a woman who's clearly seen better days, hair a mess of disheveled layers and eyes circled in dark. Fellow Warmbloods might be able to relate to the way she moves — as though hardly daring to, even the most subtle shifts of her body resulting in little stabs of pain.

Despite the wince that flinches across her features as she settles back against a nest of pillows, the woman offers a quiet laugh. )

This is probably the worst time to show my face on here, huh. But I hope the rest of you who have this flu, or whatever it is, are taking care.

Anyway, since all I can really do is sit here... ( —a wry little smile; it's been weeks and she's still not too thrilled about being home-bound— ) ...it's been giving me a lot of time to think.

( She reaches very slowly for something that was just off-screen, drawing it gingerly into her lap. It's a brown teddy bear. )

This is something from my home that ended up here with me. It's my daughter's. When she was little, she had a very hard time with sleep. ( An understatement to be sure; the progressively dangerous sleepwalking spells are what she now knows were supernatural callings to her daughter's fractured soul. But Rose won't divulge that quite so openly. )

This guy brought her comfort, so in turn, he brought me comfort, too. ( She can't quite hold the stuffed animal to her chest the way she wants to, not with physical contact being as painful as it is, but one arm dares to loosely curl a bit closer around it, protective. )

Do you have anything here with you, from your home? If you don't mind sharing, what does it mean to you? This sick old lady would love to hear your stories.

[Ezra has a Sword of Agency laid across his lap when he flips on the camera to his Omni. The very observant might note he's in one of the safehouses Ruby clued him into. He looks thoughtful.]

I've had enough time travel and other weirdness going on in my life for the last year that I wasn't sure how far off my count of subjective days might be. But I woke up to this sword, which gives off some pretty interesting vibes. So either my Blessed Day is a really random day, or it's my birthday.

I'm going with it being my birthday. Nineteen.

I've always pretty much hated my birthday, as long as I remember. Some of it's personal, but even the personal stuff is tied to the fact that the day I was born, the galaxy where I'm from changed, and not, in my estimation - and a whole lot of other people's - for the better.

There's no, like, cosmic or destined implications to the fact I was born that day, by the way. Not as far as I know. Just cause and effect, maybe. Stress can lead to early births, right? I'm just a kid from a backwater planet in a big galaxy. My parents weren't anyone important.

But sometimes my birthday felt like a curse.

None of that baggage came from here. I'd like to try to put some of it down, you know? [He peers towards a window.]

It's looking bad out there, but if you want to brave it, I've got a big pot of mushroom stew on, and I think I'm gonna see if I can get this thing to project a movie. Not exactly a dazzling party, but it's more than I usually celebrate. Some company would be great. Or just talk to me on here.

Any suggestions for a must watch?

annual squid weather report: its shit. don't come out.

ps - can we all agree that the twat with the red pinecone for a head is a melodramatic bellend? or is that just me?

take it to the PMs bruv.

[alright, good chat. glad we got that out in the air.]

cw: minor mentions of war, discussions of possible character death

So, it seems that my Blessed Day is in fact the same day as my birthday.

[ Luna speaks off camera, busy trying to put her Omni in the right place. It takes a couple of moments, but the initial view of Luna's room: all soft lighting, bright but peaceful tones across the space, is finally obscured as Luna steps into the frame to sit at her desk, something in her hand. She waves to the camera with a cheerful smile in greeting before she continues with what she's addressing. With a soft sound, she lugs the item in her hand onto her desk and then carefully holds it up to the camera of her Omni to show it.

It's a sword: the Blade of Agency, to be precise. Luna gazes down at it with faint bemusement; of course Doorway would gift a sword, considering they appear with one at all times. But Luna's... not quite sure what to do with it. She's a Witch, not a sword-swinger. Not that she's ungrateful, and she certainly doesn't mean to come across as that as she stares at the sword. ]

I found this propped up against the wall of my room this morning. A gift from Doorway, my Patron. [ Her head twists one way in thought, brow pinching. It's a fine looking blade, she thinks. Although she's not very knowledgeable in that department. ] It... feels special. I don't think it's just a regular sword.

[ She can't really tell how, though. She should really find some way to find that out before she goes about using it. Ravenclaws err on the side of caution in the face of magic swords. ]

... Although if I'm meant to use it, I've never actually swung a sword before. [ ... ] I believe I shall need some help with that.

[ Should anyone be interested in that. There's a long pause; Luna smiles faintly. She would turn the feed off at that but something else is on her mind. She's quiet for a little while, putting the sword down carefully down on her desk once more. It's... something difficult, the way her expression shifts. Not something necessarily bad, but— ]

... I turned twenty today. [ She lets that settle for a moment before she continues. Her voice is hushed, a little sombre in some way. She fiddles with her hands as she goes on: ] It's quite funny, you know. Not being a teenager anymore. Well, not just that part, really.

I suppose— I guess I never expected to live past seventeen. [ A short pause, there's a sudden realisation. She smiles weakly. ] Although I realise that doesn't quite funny at all when you say it out loud, does it?

[ More like horrifying, than anything else. Sometimes Luna has that uncanny knack for making people uncomfortable with the things she says; but it's a truth of her home. She was headed to battle before Trench, before Deerington. It was quite possible she'd never make out to the other side of that battle. Even people as young as she was die in war, she understands that. But now, here, she's made it out of her teens and into the first steps of adulthood. It's given her a great deal of cause for ruminating. ]

I've learned a lot about different things; different magic, and ways people live. Especially Muggles. ... I've met a lot of people, made friends. I've gotten to experience a lot of new things in those friendships I didn't have the chance to get to at home. I even met someone who I love very much. [ Her weak smile turns to something fonder, there's warmth there. Perhaps it's quite fitting that Doorway is her Patron, after all. Her relationships are important to her. But don't worry, she's not going to get too mushy over her boyfriend over the network. ]

I know for as difficult life here can be, for as hard Deerington was... this place is a kind of opportunity. It's let me have a great deal of things I didn't think I could have. Things I would have likely never had the chance to experience if I had never come here and stayed in my own world. It's a chance at living. One I didn't think I would get.

[ ... ]

I think that's quite important to remember. When things are difficult. Or when I do miss home sometimes. [ She goes quiet again, lost in her thoughts for a little bit. Even now, trying to pull the positives here in a world that has much stacked against them. Her expression turning to a serene dreaminess as she props her elbows on her desk, chin in her hands. So: ] ... What are you glad for the opportunity for, Sleepers?

[ Sal appears on video, for a moment he's perhaps a touch too close as he peers through his omni. Once he leans back and fully comes into view there's just some masked dude with a mess of blue hair staring into your souls. He has an odd looking guitar on his lap, and when he speaks his voice is slightly muffled and raspy.]

So, sup. I'm Sal, but everyone calls me Sally Face. [ He gives a small wave. ] To cut to the chase; I play guitar. So if anyone needs and or knows who needs someone who can shred it, or maybe gently shred it — I don't know, hit me up?

While I'm here, what's everyone's favorite kinda music? Any recommendations? This might be the most ridiculous thing to say given literally everything about this situation but I could use somethin' to do. Which isn't really a bad thing. It's a nice break. But, you know...[ He's just going to cap this off with a vague handwave as he trails off...he's been a bit isolated for a while, forgive the awkward. ]

[ But! Instead of just making everyone take his word for it that he knows what he's doing he decides to strum out a few notes as an example. A very energetic, alternative rock tune that might sound slightly familiar to some.

He's totally playing a rock version of Mary Had a little Lamb. He panicked, okay! ]