(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. | ||||
[After that whole arrivals experience, Black Hat took some time while resting to scroll back on the network. A certain reply in particular caught his eye.]
Boo.
[Sometimes to help yourself feel better you just have to ruin a man's hopes.]
Boo.
[Sometimes to help yourself feel better you just have to ruin a man's hopes.]
Hello Doctor Lecter.
Simply Aunamee is fine. It is a name I chose for myself long ago, and I still feel a small thrill when other people say it. But how thoughtful of you to ask.
Before I continue, it's important that I tell you something:
People will warn you about me.
Simply Aunamee is fine. It is a name I chose for myself long ago, and I still feel a small thrill when other people say it. But how thoughtful of you to ask.
Before I continue, it's important that I tell you something:
People will warn you about me.
Edited 2020-02-27 12:25 (UTC)
There is a square in East Bavan populated with three benches, two trees, and a small pond. There is only one lantern.
I will grant you one day. You will come to the bench beneath the lantern at ten o'clock tomorrow evening. I will bring the drinks. Let us have a nice chat like decent men. I can be a well-mannered brute when I wish it.
A good evening to you, Monsieur King-of-the-Gods.
I will grant you one day. You will come to the bench beneath the lantern at ten o'clock tomorrow evening. I will bring the drinks. Let us have a nice chat like decent men. I can be a well-mannered brute when I wish it.
A good evening to you, Monsieur King-of-the-Gods.
[It takes him a while to write this. It's... difficult. It's really difficult.]
[Even the Dark Lord never made him feel as betrayed as this. He wants to believe that Aunamee simply didn't know, didn't understand how much it would hurt him, him personally, to relive that agony of uncertainty, that doubt, that horrible knowledge that it would never end. And the memories, as well.]
[But he knows Aunamee did know. Aunamee has been in the cave, pulled him sobbing out of the dark water and those grasping hands. Aunamee has been his confidante, more than anyone else in either of his lives. Aunamee knew how much it would hurt. And either he didn't care, or...]
[When Regulus does eventually open his laptop and begin to type, it's difficult. His hands are shaking, and keeping them solid is a constant effort.]
Tell me that there was a greater purpose to this than a game. Tell me there was a plan.
[Even the Dark Lord never made him feel as betrayed as this. He wants to believe that Aunamee simply didn't know, didn't understand how much it would hurt him, him personally, to relive that agony of uncertainty, that doubt, that horrible knowledge that it would never end. And the memories, as well.]
[But he knows Aunamee did know. Aunamee has been in the cave, pulled him sobbing out of the dark water and those grasping hands. Aunamee has been his confidante, more than anyone else in either of his lives. Aunamee knew how much it would hurt. And either he didn't care, or...]
[When Regulus does eventually open his laptop and begin to type, it's difficult. His hands are shaking, and keeping them solid is a constant effort.]
Tell me that there was a greater purpose to this than a game. Tell me there was a plan.
[He had intended to lie. This was a lesson, he planned to say. This was a chance for you to truly understand your limits.
But he doesn't lie. For once in his life, he tells the truth. ]
I'm angry, Regulus. I've been angry for a long time.
You weren't meant to be punished like the rest of them. But sometimes, these things happen.
But he doesn't lie. For once in his life, he tells the truth. ]
I'm angry, Regulus. I've been angry for a long time.
You weren't meant to be punished like the rest of them. But sometimes, these things happen.
[Dated the morning after this event]
Bonjour, Monseigneur. Are you intact? I have not seen you about.
Bonjour, Monseigneur. Are you intact? I have not seen you about.
Regarding the recent posting from the tompainesbones girl, I urge you to submit a report of your own concerning her recent attempt at assault, battery, and murder. Written word complete with signature will do, but it is preferable to recount the details in person. I will hear them.
I await your word on the matter.
I await your word on the matter.
[ On Thursday, Aunamee will find an unusual sight on his way in to open his shop. It's located too far away for anyone to suspect that it's associated with him or Luxury of Time, on a small plot of undeveloped land. One might even think it's happenstance that he comes upon it.
The scene is carefully arranged so that half of it is in shadow and half of it is in the light.
In the light stands a human skeleton, its bones bleached to a pristine white and perfectly assembled with a fine silver wire that looks more like an artistic embellishment of filigree than something that serves an actual, practical purpose. The wire catches the sunlight, making the whole skeleton shine. Around its neck is a silver chain, from which hangs one perfectly shaped eagle feather. Behind it, a small grove of young, living oak trees, healthy and vibrant.
At the boundary where sunlight meets shadow is a spotless pane of glass.
In the shadows, mirroring the skeleton's stance, is a brown-haired man of the same height. He's wearing a dull, drab suit of an unflattering shade of brown. A cursory glance may not reveal the truth, but a longer one will: thin lines that look an awful lot like seams run along the edges of what's visible of his skin. Behind the man, in the same number and configuration as the living trees, are withered, dead stumps. They're charred and broken, almost as if they've been hit by lightning.
(A thorough examination of the body will reveal that the skin, muscles and viscera adorn a plastic life-sized skeleton. Whoever killed the man extracted his real skeleton and then reassembled him on a fake one. The real skeleton is, of course, the one that stands on the other side of the makeshift mirror. It will take almost no effort to identify the man as one of the poachers. Any passerby who sees it might simply assume that it's a warning meant for the humans to never take harmful action against the monsters again.
But the real message is for Aunamee alone, written in the symbols of Jupiter, the choice of the one type of metal that can cause a vampire harm, and the time and painstaking care it took to construct the tableau. Coming to Ryslig and undergoing the transformation into a lich hasn't diminished him. The transformation, the decay, all of it only elements undergoing change to fuel his radiance.) ]
The scene is carefully arranged so that half of it is in shadow and half of it is in the light.
In the light stands a human skeleton, its bones bleached to a pristine white and perfectly assembled with a fine silver wire that looks more like an artistic embellishment of filigree than something that serves an actual, practical purpose. The wire catches the sunlight, making the whole skeleton shine. Around its neck is a silver chain, from which hangs one perfectly shaped eagle feather. Behind it, a small grove of young, living oak trees, healthy and vibrant.
At the boundary where sunlight meets shadow is a spotless pane of glass.
In the shadows, mirroring the skeleton's stance, is a brown-haired man of the same height. He's wearing a dull, drab suit of an unflattering shade of brown. A cursory glance may not reveal the truth, but a longer one will: thin lines that look an awful lot like seams run along the edges of what's visible of his skin. Behind the man, in the same number and configuration as the living trees, are withered, dead stumps. They're charred and broken, almost as if they've been hit by lightning.
(A thorough examination of the body will reveal that the skin, muscles and viscera adorn a plastic life-sized skeleton. Whoever killed the man extracted his real skeleton and then reassembled him on a fake one. The real skeleton is, of course, the one that stands on the other side of the makeshift mirror. It will take almost no effort to identify the man as one of the poachers. Any passerby who sees it might simply assume that it's a warning meant for the humans to never take harmful action against the monsters again.
But the real message is for Aunamee alone, written in the symbols of Jupiter, the choice of the one type of metal that can cause a vampire harm, and the time and painstaking care it took to construct the tableau. Coming to Ryslig and undergoing the transformation into a lich hasn't diminished him. The transformation, the decay, all of it only elements undergoing change to fuel his radiance.) ]
[When Aunamee sees the grotesque display, no one else is around. He circles it carefully, taking in the silver wire, the flashes of sunlight, the pristine eagle feather dangling from the skeleton's neck.
Hannibal. Hannibal did this.
He swallows a breath even though he doesn't need to breathe, his phantom heart rolling in his chest. When he saw Hannibal's art in the dreamscape, he was overcome with wonder. This is something different. Anticipation? Affection?
Later on, Hannibal will receive a perfectly penned letter thanking him for his gift. Instead of his usual sign off ('sincerely,' or 'with the utmost respect'), he uses the word 'love.']
Hannibal. Hannibal did this.
He swallows a breath even though he doesn't need to breathe, his phantom heart rolling in his chest. When he saw Hannibal's art in the dreamscape, he was overcome with wonder. This is something different. Anticipation? Affection?
Later on, Hannibal will receive a perfectly penned letter thanking him for his gift. Instead of his usual sign off ('sincerely,' or 'with the utmost respect'), he uses the word 'love.']
[This feels like a supremely stupid idea, but living in uncertainty and worry is worse than facing something head-on. If there's anything Ryslig has taught Fiddleford, it's that.]
It's been almost a month.
What are you waiting for?
It's been almost a month.
What are you waiting for?
< snickersnack > shortly after the latest network interaction
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shrinksense
2020-07-23 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
Alright, I think I got this right.
This is Mister Aunamee, yes? It is Alice.
I’ve read and heard plenty about the Fog lately. Is She truly a ruler in Ryslig? Why are so many people against this?
This is Mister Aunamee, yes? It is Alice.
I’ve read and heard plenty about the Fog lately. Is She truly a ruler in Ryslig? Why are so many people against this?
[At just past midnight, a security detail led by a tall, shadowed silhouette weaves past The Luxury of Time. The tall man ushers forth three men at his heels. Two of them are heavily armed, flanking the third, roughly handled by either arm.
Onlookers and night owls who happen to be awake crane their necks out the windows and swiftly retreat back into their homes and apartments when a pair of blazing red eyes darts their way. It is the manhandled fellow that draws the most nervous curiosity: he is hunched over, silent, his feet dragging upon the ground between the two well-muscled humans carrying him onwards. His hands are shackled together, and a thick black sack obscures his face.
Anyone who keeps up with the local Bavan City news would recognize the shadow in the fore as Javert, private investigator, lead warden of the freshly-redubbed La Forteresse Prison. He has been blessed with more press than he would like as of late for his prominent and decisive actions taken against the shattered Monster Poacher organization. Not all of it has been flattering.
Which means that the shrouded man must be one of monsterkind's prized prisoners, and it appears Javert is intent to show him to a place that will teach him a very fine lesson in proper administration of justice.
Doors slam shut and blinds snap closed in his wake as Javert and his men march onward through the hushed streets, undeterred by the gawpers and busybodies whispering in the darkness.]
Onlookers and night owls who happen to be awake crane their necks out the windows and swiftly retreat back into their homes and apartments when a pair of blazing red eyes darts their way. It is the manhandled fellow that draws the most nervous curiosity: he is hunched over, silent, his feet dragging upon the ground between the two well-muscled humans carrying him onwards. His hands are shackled together, and a thick black sack obscures his face.
Anyone who keeps up with the local Bavan City news would recognize the shadow in the fore as Javert, private investigator, lead warden of the freshly-redubbed La Forteresse Prison. He has been blessed with more press than he would like as of late for his prominent and decisive actions taken against the shattered Monster Poacher organization. Not all of it has been flattering.
Which means that the shrouded man must be one of monsterkind's prized prisoners, and it appears Javert is intent to show him to a place that will teach him a very fine lesson in proper administration of justice.
Doors slam shut and blinds snap closed in his wake as Javert and his men march onward through the hushed streets, undeterred by the gawpers and busybodies whispering in the darkness.]
[Aunamee follows. He wears the disguise of a young man with a quick smile and dark glasses, an obvious anomaly in these dark, midnight streets. Without the shades, however, he'd stand out even further -- this disguise contains lips instead of eyelids, teeth instead of eyeballs, red pools of blood instead of pupils. The glasses are very, very necessary.
He keeps his distance, squinting through the darkness as he zigs and zags, moving from side street to side street in an effort to conceal his pursuit. Javert isn't leading these people towards the prison -- he's leading them away from it. Where? Why?
His curiosity makes his fingers tingle. He must find out. ]
He keeps his distance, squinting through the darkness as he zigs and zags, moving from side street to side street in an effort to conceal his pursuit. Javert isn't leading these people towards the prison -- he's leading them away from it. Where? Why?
His curiosity makes his fingers tingle. He must find out. ]
[Attached to this message is a photograph of an eviscerated corpse pinned to a boulder.]
Did you leave this gift behind?
Did you leave this gift behind?
[It's beautiful. Aunamee takes in all of the details he can through the grainy resolution. His phantom heart thrums in his chest.
Yes. He knows that work. ]
I'm flattered.
[He means it.]
Unfortunately, my gifts are seldom so organic. Did you forget the I primarily deal in timepieces?
Yes. He knows that work. ]
I'm flattered.
[He means it.]
Unfortunately, my gifts are seldom so organic. Did you forget the I primarily deal in timepieces?
[A small black parcel tied in black velvet ribbon awaits Aunamee at his Dyster home. There is no note, no mode of address, no sign of who the recipient may be save for the smell: earth, tobacco, a touch of masculine incense, and musky leather.
Inside Aunamee will find an engraved silver cigarette box. The emblem etched into the top is of the scales of justice, emerging through a billowing, curved representation of the Fog.]
Inside Aunamee will find an engraved silver cigarette box. The emblem etched into the top is of the scales of justice, emerging through a billowing, curved representation of the Fog.]
Aunamee, can you meet with me?
It's important.
It's important.
i'm glad to know aunamee will find this right next to javert's very thoughtful gift
terribibble
2020-12-22 11:24 am (UTC)(link)
[There is no wrapped present, but there is an envelope with Aunamee's name on it written in clear and deliberate script. Inside is a card, and written in the card in the same script is a message.
Aunamee,
I was beginning to worry that you had well and truly disappeared! Our community hasn't been the same with you and your friendly presence so conspicuously absent. Happy holidays, and WELCOME BACK!
- Fiddleford
Fiddleford may not know the extent to which Aunamee is trying to pretend he was never gone, but he does know Aunamee wasn't around and then he was. This felt like the only appropriate form of polite and neighborly outreach, particularly now that they share real estate in Dyster.
The envelope is full of red glitter.]
Aunamee,
I was beginning to worry that you had well and truly disappeared! Our community hasn't been the same with you and your friendly presence so conspicuously absent. Happy holidays, and WELCOME BACK!
- Fiddleford
Fiddleford may not know the extent to which Aunamee is trying to pretend he was never gone, but he does know Aunamee wasn't around and then he was. This felt like the only appropriate form of polite and neighborly outreach, particularly now that they share real estate in Dyster.
The envelope is full of red glitter.]
[True to his word -- and Javert's word is always good -- it takes him the better part of an hour to transpose his journal writings into a document on his laptop. The list appears as a message in Aunamee's inbox at around 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
The List is divided into two sections. The first section is a meticulous documentation of each human killed by his hand, and the number is not small. The second section is much smaller, and reads as follows:]
Hannibal Lecter; Bled in house
Monseigneur Aunamee; Knife to the heart, fabrication of the mind
Roman Sionis; Bled in an alleyway, misidentification error
The Goblin Varian; Authorized execution
Cassandra; Miscalculation in a scuffle
Jim Moriarty; Bled
Jean Valjean
The List is divided into two sections. The first section is a meticulous documentation of each human killed by his hand, and the number is not small. The second section is much smaller, and reads as follows:]
Hannibal Lecter; Bled in house
Monseigneur Aunamee; Knife to the heart, fabrication of the mind
Roman Sionis; Bled in an alleyway, misidentification error
The Goblin Varian; Authorized execution
Cassandra; Miscalculation in a scuffle
Jim Moriarty; Bled
Jean Valjean
[So, here's the thing: Doppio absolutely does not trust this guy, even if - or perhaps because - he knows him mostly as the person responsible for that simulation that effectively made him have to accept the reality of what happened to him twice, as well as someone who gets pretty fucking weird about the Fog God.
... But he hates being told that he's lying all the time, and he hates being told that he's deluded even more. That's why he has to at least hear him out.]
So about that wager...
... But he hates being told that he's lying all the time, and he hates being told that he's deluded even more. That's why he has to at least hear him out.]
So about that wager...
[When she came back from Rota with everyone else, Ray had spent a long time running on legs she was so grateful to have if just for this, to the different places she'd met with him before or knew he favored. She didn't pray to God or Fate to help bring her to him, instead believing in her own determination. She had to find him. But now, her legs are tired, and she hasn't seen him on the network during a cursory look. He had to be here... Which means she has to shut her eyes and remember the series of numbers that meant she didn't need to keep checking place after place, or ask the Fog for a key to the Dyster he knew, when she wasn't even sure that would be enough to appeal to her. Things weren't the same as back then.
The numbers... She thinks it's right. It had to be right. It's starting to get late, and she's so tired... As much as would, it'd be hard to do this all over again tomorrow, and the day after that, or however long it took her to find him or confirm he was no longer in this place.]
Daddy, I'm home.
The numbers... She thinks it's right. It had to be right. It's starting to get late, and she's so tired... As much as would, it'd be hard to do this all over again tomorrow, and the day after that, or however long it took her to find him or confirm he was no longer in this place.]
Daddy, I'm home.
< r.gardner > backdated to later half of remember me plot
sweartoyou
2021-02-27 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Dad, could I please borrow some money? It hasn't been long enough for me to get paid yet.
[Very shortly after his return, and after speaking with Rachel, the following message will appear in Aunamee's inbox.]
Aunamee, this is Daniel Dickens. It seems this place has allowed me to return here.
[And then he waits, to see how the other man chooses to react to this news.]
Aunamee, this is Daniel Dickens. It seems this place has allowed me to return here.
[And then he waits, to see how the other man chooses to react to this news.]
You didn't tell me about having been murdered before I came back here.
[It's text so his tone here may be hard to read, but Aunamee could easily guess that Danny might not be particularly happy about having seen this news.]
[It's text so his tone here may be hard to read, but Aunamee could easily guess that Danny might not be particularly happy about having seen this news.]
[there is a long stream of messages, each sent individually.]
> hey
> hey
> hey
> hey anenome
> hi
> hey
> anenome
> annie baby
> anana
> hey
> i have a question
> hey
> hey
> hey
> hey anenome
> hi
> hey
> anenome
> annie baby
> anana
> hey
> i have a question
hi
just so you know
elias has been pretty happy lately
☆ ～('▽^人)
just so you know
elias has been pretty happy lately
☆ ～('▽^人)
[The following message will appear delivered via text, though Aunamee will note that it's rather stilted, not usually like Danny's normal manner of speaking when they text each other.]
Was attacked.
Some stupid fucking wolf did it.
Letting you know now in case I pass out soon.
[He must be using text to speech here which also explains why he even did a swear since normally he claims to be above speaking that way, but is clearly too pissed off to censor himself in time for the purposes of leaving this type of message here.]
Was attacked.
Some stupid fucking wolf did it.
Letting you know now in case I pass out soon.
[He must be using text to speech here which also explains why he even did a swear since normally he claims to be above speaking that way, but is clearly too pissed off to censor himself in time for the purposes of leaving this type of message here.]
Edited 2021-09-13 08:14 (UTC)
[On October 1st, Aunamee receives the following message from a randomly-generated anonymous username. The sender will not reply 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!!!!!!!!!!
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!!!!!!!!!!
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