[Tom is carefully crafting icicles with his wand by the fountain outside of town, tiny snowflakes appearing out of nowhere as he twists the ice into beautiful points.]

How does one celebrate a birthday, in your world?

[Tom inclines his head toward the levitating PCD.

Both eyes intact, thank you.]My seventeenth is at the birth of the new year. ( Read more... )

( [Filtered to Morgana // Private // Unhackable] )

[And, suddenly -- fireworks. Bursting in the sky, near the lake, in a variety of colors, though they seem to stray more to green than most other colors, but the largest ones are red, orange, and bursts of yellow and white ( Read more... )

I seem to have discovered the art of making cider ( Read more... )

As Shakespeare once said --

[Distractedly -- and, if you cared to listen closely enough -- nearly out of breath.]

Something wicked this way comes.

( [Filtered to Morgana and Castiel // Private // Unhackable] )

[Tom is standing at a counter, his hands in his pockets, the very picture of relaxed and composed. He looks a lot healthier than he did upon arrival, though he is still pale and looks as if he hasn't slept very much since he landed in Adstringendum. He is watching a tea cup, which is steaming and fresh. His eyes narrow slightly at it, pursing his ( Read more... )