III. Reckoner.

[maleficentia]

Velvet Amandine Lyon. I know you're lurking around these journals, somewhere, so don't lets continue with the charade. If any of her friends and associates feel inclined to turn her in, well, let's have it, and promptly.

Have you finally summoned up a spine and published that piece you showed me at the end of our semester together?

Comments

[bramblesgaveway]

Sounds fake.

[maleficentia]

An unfortunate whim of a parental unit, no doubt.

[bramblesgaveway]

Doubt she chose it herself.

[maleficentia]

That's what I just said, actually.

[bramblesgaveway]

I know. Point seemed kind of obvious.

[maleficentia]

Obviously.

[bramblesgaveway]

Enjoying yourself?

[maleficentia]

Very rarely.

[bramblesgaveway]

Unfortunate.

[maleficentia]

A tragedy of epic proportions.

[bramblesgaveway]

Odes and shit to it and everything.

Probably more to do on a Saturday than read your journal.

[maleficentia]

In so many words.

Likewise. As for me, I'm a multitasker--and this is a necessary notification. Hunting her down, &c, &c.

[bramblesgaveway]

Woe.

Oh.

[maleficentia]

Tears and injustice.

Indeed.

[bramblesgaveway]

Out of poetic shit, sorry.

[maleficentia]

Oh, don't be.