No, Edmund wasn't in the wrong place and neither was this post; there was an incredibly direct note taped to the classroom door pointing his Dealing With Idiots students this way.

He also wasn't wearing one of the lovely purple uniform shirts stacked on the table beside him, and as for the hats... well. You couldn't pay him to put one of those on ( Read more... )

The first arrivals to the warehouse would have found nothing - until the lights went on, dropping many shades of glitter down onto the floor. The glitter would stick around all night, almost-but-not-quite clashing with the colorful decor, though it did not seem to incite any boykissy ( Read more... )

Medusalith was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Even the human art couldn't distract her today.

So if she was experimenting with her hair and not setting off the security devices...well. Who could blame her? She'd turn them off before anyone else came in, obviously.

The gallery? Open.

There were rose petals all over everything.

Medusalith approved. It was like some sort of grand event where they were showered with flowers and praise, only it was the whole town and no one had praised her yet. They should get on fixing that. In the meantime, she would be here, cleaning the petals off the art.

The gallery was open.

((Monday, ( Read more... )

Medusalith's head hurt this morning. She blamed the 'music' last night, unaware that the pink things were probably more responsible. She didn't particularly care, though, because she'd gotten to spend her birthday with Blackagar, so really, all was positively golden in her view.

The gallery and all of its lovely things is open for your perusal.

Medusalith was relieved that all the students had returned to the island. For someone from a closed environment like Attilan, the notion that everyone could just take off for a while had been very odd indeed. It was nice, then, to be settling back into her regular schedule, which included that oh-so-human concept of 'a job.' She arranged ( Read more... )

Medusalith was at the gallery on Monday, wondering what the deal was with this festival everyone seemed to be celebrating. Perhaps she should ask someone, she thought, and then discarded the idea. Although she had noticed that gifts were involved. Was she expected to give Blackagar a gift? She had no idea ( Read more... )

Medusalith was in an actual good mood today. She'd rescued Blackagar, that bog thing was gone, everything was back to normal. And hopefully no giant dogs would be invading the gallery with more bad news ( Read more... )

Medusalith hadn't listened to the radio last night. If she had, she would have been out searching the island with a fine-toothed comb, not sitting in an art gallery contemplating whether that statue would be shown to better effect over by that painting. So she started the day perfectly calm, maybe even a little bored, but mostly in a good mood ( Read more... )

Medusalith was in a mood. The sort of mood that, back in Attilan, would have resulted in everyone treading very cautiously around her and her mother suggesting that perhaps she should go visit Blackagar, the subtext being 'before you start tossing breakables and/or make a servant cry.' She suspected it was attributable to the amount of kissing ( Read more... )