quicktoanger | First Casefile: New Feather [Action/Written]

[Action]

Well, sure, I was just sitting on the roof. I mean, hey, it was a bit chilly, but I'm used to that. And I wasn't sure where I was, but hell, that's hardly any change.

The fact that I couldn't figure out how to get down was entirely irrelevant. I assure you. So there I sat, on the roof, scribbling in my journal.

The wings, it seems, didn't come off. Damn near fell off the roof figuring that out. They still throbbed.

The journal was an interesting thing, actually. It had my name on it. Apparently it updated to represent the journals other people used? I'd tried to look at it through the Sight. Luckily, the freezing cold was doing wonders staving off that headache.

I looked over the side again. Considered trying to climb. But, well, it was a rather tall building, and there weren't many handholds within reach. No. No, better to find some other method. So I'll just keep writing in that journal.

[Written]

Hey. Don't know if there's some sort of etiquette to this... journal thing, or whatever it's called, but I have a question.

Where the hell am I, why do I have wings, and how did I get on top of this building without any clothing?

I don't think I was that drunk last night...

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[Top priority: Calm him down.]

I'd be happy to help explain as much as I can.

[It's a relatively minor particularity in the bigger scheme, but Lupin prefers to keep his handwriting hidden. That way, he can leave notes anonymously around town as he pleases. He's done it before, and it was always interesting watching people scramble to figure out who sent the message.

Lupin replies in audio, because. He's Lupin III.]

...Just the usual, no revving up chainsaws at midnight, and spare us your drunken recitals.

[He goes more serious then, calmer, as he searches for the best way to answer a New Feather.]

How well do you know your movies? Because the phrase 'Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore' fits pretty well here. No, you're drunk--that was my first reaction too.

Sorry to disappoint.

Hate to ruin the fun, but you prob'ly weren't that drunk.

[It is some time before Adele is able to reply to this entry, as she spends the bulk of the afternoon with her hands full of yards of blond hair. But once she's home, she jots down a note.]

Since there are children in the Village, I would suggest you do not post nude images of yourself, or recordings of anything lewd or obscene. Other than that it is simply a matter of not doing anything you would not wish done to you.

Okay. When journals start talking to me, I actually have a strategy. It's a very cunning, devious strategy. It involves dropping the book to the ground to ground out any evil energy, emphatic vocalizations to focus my emotions, and backing away to a more defensible position in case of manifestations.

I definitely didn't drop the book, yelp, and scurry back from it. That's absolutely not what happened.

"... This thing can talk. Well, shit, it could have said that somewhere."

[Rogue was just on her way to grab something from the grocery store for lunch when she saw the obvious New Feather on top of the roof.

Oh good Lord.]

Hey, hot shot! The wings don't actually work, ya know!

Think of it as instant recording and playback. I'm not the book.

"If they worked, I'd be down by now, wouldn't I?"

Hmm. Slim figure, youngish, carried herself with an attitude. Loved the white streak in the hair, though. Reminded me of Molly a bit.

"Don't suppose you have any idea what's going on?"

"Oh. So... it's a phone book?"

Oh, I slay me.

I think I'd rather tell ya when you're not in the position ta find out if it's a Wonderful Life.

[She's guessing there's no trap door up there so... ladder. She needs a ladder. Or Kurt. Hmm. Which would be easier?]

"In fairness, unless I fell head first, I probably wouldn't get much worse than a couple broken bones."

Not that it was real comforting, but she made it sound like I was up the Sears Tower or something.

Kids are watching, don't be an ass, no sexting. Got it.

Wow. This is probably the closest I'll ever come to the internet. Sad thought.

"Well, then there's been a clerical error. I definitely don't get the wings when I die.

Also, I'm up on a roof."

"Movies are a very old, very dear companion of mine. And if I'm not drunk, why do I have wings, exactly?"

[Or if the wings ripped off on the way down... sigh. Ladder, then.

She waved a gloved hand.]

Still not a stain I want on my record. We try not ta kill the New Feathers around here.

[Light smirk.] Just hang tight.

[Because where there is a 'sit put' joke when someone's stranded at a height, it's a crime not to make it.]

There isn't any real etiquette to the journals. Just do what you normally would.

As for where you are, its a place called Luceti. You were brought here by an organization called the Malnosso, and they are the ones that gave you wings. Don't remove them, that'd be fatal.

Do you still need help getting down? I'm happy to come get you if you need. Just tell me where.

They're a part a part of this place, like these stupid books. Think of them as a dog collar--they do nothing, and are really annoying.

Don't do anything to them, though. Pull them off and you die. No joke.

...Sexting? I do not know this word. [Though it sounded like something Remy would do. Often. Perhaps something he might have mentioned around her? Or even Irving.]

Not exactly. It might be closer to compare it to the internet. [Humor lost? Possibly.]

"When I first found myself stuck up here I tried to pull one off. I damn near fell off the roof. And I'm pretty good at coping with pain."

[Well. Harry Dresden new a hip cultural slang that somebody else didn't. May wonders never cease.

... Well, actually, it happened to me all the time, it's just that usually the ones who didn't were hidebound octacentarian wizards and prehistoric vampires and minor elder gods and the like.]

It's kind of a dumb thing. People trade pictures of themselves and dirty messages on their cell phones.

There is some perverse facet of human nature that compels them to tell trapped people not to go anywhere. I'm sure there's an evolutionary response that caused it or something, we can't all be that sadistic.

"I'll try not to wander off."

You do that.

[X-Men: Saving people from near-deadly falls off of roofs, one ladder at a time.

Maybe I should quit the day job and just become a firefighter.

And so, with much internal commentary and self-depreciation later, Rogue returns in about five minutes with a ladder from the Item Shop. It's one of those heavy metal numbers, but she seems to be managing it without any particular strain.]

Yeah, I thought the same t'ing when I woke up here.

[Slight grin.]

Which roof? Most of 'em got a stairway to get down.

Ah. I know someone...well. Two someones that engage in that practice, though I never knew what it was called. Thank you for enlightening me. [Dumb? Yes. The reminder ached a bit though. Nothing to be changed, such was life, etc.]

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