Dec 22, 2011 09:56
[Ichabod is sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace and a large book of notes resting beside him. He looks into the Blackberry with a stoney expression.]
Good marrow, Manor. I bid you a day of festivities that hopefully will be a day of cheer rather than sorrow. I have been a resident of this place for nearing two years come May. By no stretch of the imagination, and to some the mind and body, has the Author shown any sign of letting go nor releasing us back into our homes. Should this be the case, I would suspect the scenery to be illusionary at best. This Author has begun to show signs of maturity. At the very least, some events that have been in the past have not been repeated. Thankfully, they never will, or one hopes.
Still, I would like to take this time to offer my condolences to those written out of our story and welcome those new-comers that have had little chance to adjust. I would like to thank those that have made the Manor bearable to reside in and thank you for your time and consideration for those that have taken the younger, less experienced, residents into the folds and kept them safe.
Good day.
[He reaches over and turns off the video feed to his device.]
plot: christmas,
ichabod crane