(no subject)
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, SATURNSCHILD. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 001.00.653.90 *** SATURNSCHILD has joined 001.00.653.90 <saturnschild> Hello. <saturnschild> I'm listening. | ||||
[Alright, if this weird dude really wants a private convo, he guesses he can message him? There's no harm in it...right?]
hello?
hello?
(Backdated to May 15th. Probably at some weird hour or other)
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peaceamongworlds
2018-05-25 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Hey, guess who's bustng out of this Hellhole. Guess who's got absolutely nothing to lose by telling you exactly what he thinks of you. It's this guy.]
Hey Annomie! You awake?What's going on you creepy detatched son of a bitch?
Hey Annomie! You awake?What's going on you creepy detatched son of a bitch?
[This whole arrangement feels rather shady, but who is Juno to turn down shady opportunities with little to no details on the actual job? He's a private eye--that's what he does.]
is this aunamee? it's juno. you said you wanted to talk about an 'opportunity'
is this aunamee? it's juno. you said you wanted to talk about an 'opportunity'
There's no need to use quotes, Juno. It is an opportunity.
I sell pocket watches out of a storefront in East Bavan. It's quite popular -- but not because of the watches. For an additional fee, I'll protect my customers from harm for a set period of time. But the demand is starting to grow beyond my capabilities.
I need someone with experience in discreet security.
I sell pocket watches out of a storefront in East Bavan. It's quite popular -- but not because of the watches. For an additional fee, I'll protect my customers from harm for a set period of time. But the demand is starting to grow beyond my capabilities.
I need someone with experience in discreet security.
Edited 2018-08-13 21:59 (UTC)
[Almost happening concurrently with this thread, a private message appears in Aunamee's inbox.]
The girl that you've been speaking to, named Rachel. What do you think of her?
The girl that you've been speaking to, named Rachel. What do you think of her?
[She hadn't been planning on doing anything, and had only been momentarily puzzled by Danny's insistence on informing her of something so inconsequential as his birthday, but then she'd gone and mentioned it to Zack, who told her that Reira told him birthdays were important and even he was going to have to do something. Since she didn't hate her doctor like Zack did...yeah, maybe she shouldn't be dismissing it quite so hard.
Which is why Ray rows her little wagon down to the shop, stares for a long while, then oozes her way inside.]
...Aunamee? Mr. Watchmaker, sir?
[Oh, it's very nice in here, listen to that constant hum and buzz of things working. A perfect, steady rhythm. Perfect...]
Which is why Ray rows her little wagon down to the shop, stares for a long while, then oozes her way inside.]
...Aunamee? Mr. Watchmaker, sir?
[Oh, it's very nice in here, listen to that constant hum and buzz of things working. A perfect, steady rhythm. Perfect...]
[He smiles faintly when she arrives. He's no longer wearing his elaborate glass mask -- since he doesn't need to worry about hiding from his father, he allowed his flesh to grow back. He looks remarkably human in this state.
Mr. Watchmaker. He likes that.]
Hello Rachel.
[He likes her, too, although there's still something inside him that tells him to kill her, she knows too much. It doesn't make him feel safe, knowing that someone thinks like he does. It makes him feel threatened.
He approaches her, stepping around the cashier counter. ]
How good to see you again.
Mr. Watchmaker. He likes that.]
Hello Rachel.
[He likes her, too, although there's still something inside him that tells him to kill her, she knows too much. It doesn't make him feel safe, knowing that someone thinks like he does. It makes him feel threatened.
He approaches her, stepping around the cashier counter. ]
How good to see you again.
There once was a boy who was a Halloween fanatic. He loved dressing up for Halloween, he loved pulling pranks and watching horror movies, and above everything else... he loved candy. One fateful year, while he went trick-or-treating, he visited a house. This house was creepy as hell! It was big, it was old, it smelled like a grandmother and it was owned by a happy, old rich couple. The boy came here thinking that he would be handed out big chocolate bars, because it was a rich person's house but when he knocked on their door... he was handed a bag of that shitty candy that nobody likes! Tootsie rolls, shitty flavoured dum-dums, those weird... peanut things... needless to say, the boy was heartbroken. He was so heartbroken that he died, right there on their porch and now, every Halloween he goes out and finds people to curse. He wants everyone to suffer the same way he did!
Everybody is already suffering from his curse!! Send this to ten people to break the curse, or to avoid getting cursed, or you'll be stuck looking freakier than usual for the rest of your life!!!!!!!!!!
Everybody is already suffering from his curse!! Send this to ten people to break the curse, or to avoid getting cursed, or you'll be stuck looking freakier than usual for the rest of your life!!!!!!!!!!
[At some point today, when Aunamee is at work in his store, there is a sudden tapping noise that can be heard. It appears to be coming from the upper right corner of the door leading outside, and not so much as a knock so much as something batting itself against the door every other minute or so. Upon inspection, should Aunamee open the door to look outside, he'll see what looks like a small white bat that's hiding under whatever awning there may be above the door that will protect it from the sun.
Aside from it's white fur, the only other distinctive trait it has, if Aunamee attempts to come closer or get it to come closer for a better look, is that it's right eye appears to be missing...]
Aside from it's white fur, the only other distinctive trait it has, if Aunamee attempts to come closer or get it to come closer for a better look, is that it's right eye appears to be missing...]
[He jerks when he hears that first thump, his teeth clenching, his hands curling into fists. Aunamee has been startling easily these days, as though a thin, translucent shroud of anxiety has wrapped itself around his nervous system.
He approaches the door with slow, careful steps. Thump. Thump. Thump.
And then he sees it: a small, white bat. A vampire.
He kneels down on the ground to get a closer look. His glass mask shimmers in the sunlight. ]
Daniel?
He approaches the door with slow, careful steps. Thump. Thump. Thump.
And then he sees it: a small, white bat. A vampire.
He kneels down on the ground to get a closer look. His glass mask shimmers in the sunlight. ]
Daniel?
I'm sorry, I need your instruction for something.
You are my god, but you follow the fog god. She will never be like you to me...but am I supposed to be following her, too? Do you wish for me to help her? I think...I lost my key to the arcade so I can't serve you from there. Should I stay out of it?
You are my god, but you follow the fog god. She will never be like you to me...but am I supposed to be following her, too? Do you wish for me to help her? I think...I lost my key to the arcade so I can't serve you from there. Should I stay out of it?
hello!
Edited 2019-02-19 15:17 (UTC)
This is Aunamee, I presume? I am Noa.
Amanda tells me you had a strong hand in the acts on Ryslig's side of restoring the Fog God's flame.
I should like to meet someone with that kind of dedication- if you're open to that, naturally.
Amanda tells me you had a strong hand in the acts on Ryslig's side of restoring the Fog God's flame.
I should like to meet someone with that kind of dedication- if you're open to that, naturally.
[Aunamee may be able to escape from action by the fourth followers in Dyster, but Egon can still find him there. The nephilim doesn't look angry. He just seems exhausted, despite how excited he was to be free of Felfri just a few days ago.]
Aunamee? May we speak at the church?
Aunamee? May we speak at the church?
<C_137> (Pre-Event. Let's call it April 14th, 11:45 pm)
peaceamongworlds
2019-04-29 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Guess who's back
That was rhetorical, I'm back. What's up, Anoemee?
That was rhetorical, I'm back. What's up, Anoemee?
Edited 2019-04-29 18:18 (UTC)
This is John. We talked in Felfri. I was covered in eyes.
[In case you forgot.]
I'd like to speak with you about the Fog God.
[And also he's just lonely. He has precious few people to talk to and going stir crazy in a hole has stopped being an adequate way to pass the time.]
[In case you forgot.]
I'd like to speak with you about the Fog God.
[And also he's just lonely. He has precious few people to talk to and going stir crazy in a hole has stopped being an adequate way to pass the time.]
Aunamee, this is Regulus.
We have to take the Haze back from the heathens running it. It was founded in the Fog's name; we can't simply cede it without argument. I know you weren't a member when it was under Lucas and Ibuki, and perhaps the ideology behind it has some flaws, but there is value to having something more... social, an entry into Her light, for those who need time to consider Her message before committing to war. Salazar knows that I needed it, when I arrived.
The Haze has to be reclaimed for Her message. Overt violence is off the table - it will damage the image of the group, and in any case, I'm not convinced it would actually be successful - but I know that you're more than capable of subtler approaches. Would you help me?
We have to take the Haze back from the heathens running it. It was founded in the Fog's name; we can't simply cede it without argument. I know you weren't a member when it was under Lucas and Ibuki, and perhaps the ideology behind it has some flaws, but there is value to having something more... social, an entry into Her light, for those who need time to consider Her message before committing to war. Salazar knows that I needed it, when I arrived.
The Haze has to be reclaimed for Her message. Overt violence is off the table - it will damage the image of the group, and in any case, I'm not convinced it would actually be successful - but I know that you're more than capable of subtler approaches. Would you help me?
Hello, Aunamee.
I meant to contact you sooner, but I'm sure you understand that it's been... busy. I've obtained something I think you might be interested in.
I don't know what point you're at with the Fourth priest and Black Hat, but if you still have unfinished business, I would very much like to help.
I meant to contact you sooner, but I'm sure you understand that it's been... busy. I've obtained something I think you might be interested in.
I don't know what point you're at with the Fourth priest and Black Hat, but if you still have unfinished business, I would very much like to help.
<C_137> (Backdated to just after Aunamee's network post went up)
peaceamongworlds
2019-10-19 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
so who's the ultimate purveyor or justice
Is that you, Aehnowemey?
Is that you, Aehnowemey?
Its getting tedious mingling with these lesser being who just want to bitch about that crap with the whale. I'm over it. Your over it, right? People like us bounce back.
Anyway just to celebrate us being over it I think we should get a drink. I have a proposal for you and I don't trust it with just any dude.
Anyway just to celebrate us being over it I think we should get a drink. I have a proposal for you and I don't trust it with just any dude.
[Throughout the week leading up to the 24th, a number of...very Garbled messages come from Reira's address. They're all mostly impossible to understand, except maybe the occasional mention of his name.
Eventually a very frustrated Reira has her language back though, and manages to send a message..At last.]
Did you know there's a fake you?
I stabbed him in the knee when he tried kidnapping me.
[This is important information mostly to her, but also maybe Aunamee will consider an imposter a slight enough against his reputation to do something.]
Eventually a very frustrated Reira has her language back though, and manages to send a message..At last.]
Did you know there's a fake you?
I stabbed him in the knee when he tried kidnapping me.
[This is important information mostly to her, but also maybe Aunamee will consider an imposter a slight enough against his reputation to do something.]
Hello Reira. How nice it is, seeing that you've recovered your tongue.
[He had been startled by her earlier messages. The incoherency was out of character, not to mention the fact she was contacting him in the first place. But now he's aware of the poachers, the mass kidnappings, the garbled translation software.
He's also aware of the doppelgangers.]
Are you telling the truth?
[He had been startled by her earlier messages. The incoherency was out of character, not to mention the fact she was contacting him in the first place. But now he's aware of the poachers, the mass kidnappings, the garbled translation software.
He's also aware of the doppelgangers.]
Are you telling the truth?
[Aunamee doesn't like to curse. Harsh, coarse language feels like poison on his tongue, and it only escapes his lips when he's too worn down to fight it.
But he agrees with Amanda completely.]
I've killed six men since my release.
It really does wonders.
But he agrees with Amanda completely.]
I've killed six men since my release.
It really does wonders.
[Javert arrives at Café Guro about ten minutes early to prepare.
It has been some time since Aunamee saw Javert in the flesh, but at a swift glance, he looks shockingly unchanged. He still wears an immaculate if well-loved overcoat. He still dons a hat. He still carries a lead-headed cane, now balanced against the back of his chair. Yet his flesh has lost the warm, rich colour of life and has taken on the dull grey of a corpse. His claws are hidden beneath a pair of black gloves. His ears bear small points. And his fangs, not fully cast in shadow by the brim of his (new) hat, glint in the dim lights of the café.
He orders himself a café au sang (blood coffee -- that's the charm of this Café Guro, they serve treats for monsters that are ~totally~ ethically harvested from the prisons) and sits, an upright and stern statue, in a windowed corner of the room. And he waits, his eyes raking across the face of each patron who walks through the door.]
It has been some time since Aunamee saw Javert in the flesh, but at a swift glance, he looks shockingly unchanged. He still wears an immaculate if well-loved overcoat. He still dons a hat. He still carries a lead-headed cane, now balanced against the back of his chair. Yet his flesh has lost the warm, rich colour of life and has taken on the dull grey of a corpse. His claws are hidden beneath a pair of black gloves. His ears bear small points. And his fangs, not fully cast in shadow by the brim of his (new) hat, glint in the dim lights of the café.
He orders himself a café au sang (blood coffee -- that's the charm of this Café Guro, they serve treats for monsters that are ~totally~ ethically harvested from the prisons) and sits, an upright and stern statue, in a windowed corner of the room. And he waits, his eyes raking across the face of each patron who walks through the door.]
Edited 2019-12-02 23:31 (UTC)
[Aunamee arrives on time. Exactly.
Over the years, he's perfected the art of punctuality, arriving at destinations within seconds of the agreed upon time. Oftentimes, this involves planning the route beforehand, obsessively measuring his walking speed, and visiting the location ahead of time. Like most of his neuroses, he barely even notices when he does it. He needs to get somewhere at a specific time, and so he plans it. Simple.
As always, he's cloaked entirely in white, save for the dusty grey cape that marks him as a priest of the Fog God. His skull is obscured with a helm made from shattered glass.
He orders a black coffee ("no blood?" asks the barista with a hint of disappointment) purely for appearances. Sometimes he likes to pretend he's still human.]
Monsieur Javert.
[There's a smile in his voice as he approaches the table, setting down his coffee with white-gloved hands and sliding into his chair.]
It's good to see that you're alive and well.
[And then with a quiet, dark laugh:]
For a certain definition of "alive."
Over the years, he's perfected the art of punctuality, arriving at destinations within seconds of the agreed upon time. Oftentimes, this involves planning the route beforehand, obsessively measuring his walking speed, and visiting the location ahead of time. Like most of his neuroses, he barely even notices when he does it. He needs to get somewhere at a specific time, and so he plans it. Simple.
As always, he's cloaked entirely in white, save for the dusty grey cape that marks him as a priest of the Fog God. His skull is obscured with a helm made from shattered glass.
He orders a black coffee ("no blood?" asks the barista with a hint of disappointment) purely for appearances. Sometimes he likes to pretend he's still human.]
Monsieur Javert.
[There's a smile in his voice as he approaches the table, setting down his coffee with white-gloved hands and sliding into his chair.]
It's good to see that you're alive and well.
[And then with a quiet, dark laugh:]
For a certain definition of "alive."
Merry Christmas! Even though you're definitely on the naughty list.
Your Secret Santa is Dennis Reynolds. "*****" on the network (apparently he likes to look like he's swearing every time he comments). Price limit is whatever you want it to be.
Ho, ho, ho!
Your Secret Santa is Dennis Reynolds. "*****" on the network (apparently he likes to look like he's swearing every time he comments). Price limit is whatever you want it to be.
Ho, ho, ho!
[Either Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning, Aunamee will find that someone has taped a letter to the door of his current hideout. The sender is labeled "Secret Santa", and the inside has... an eye, drawn in... yeah that's definitely blood, isn't it. There's also an address as well which has more proper penmanship.
... That's it, that's all he wrote, but maybe the address has the actual gift located there??]
... That's it, that's all he wrote, but maybe the address has the actual gift located there??]
[Aunamee gingerly removes the note from his door, turning it in his hands like a precious gemstone. He can recognize Daniel's handwriting. He admires the way he curls his letters, how his handwriting translates into the elegant, bloodstained image of an eyeball.
How wonderful. How lovely.
He travels to the address at once.]
How wonderful. How lovely.
He travels to the address at once.]
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