[ The mirror is on, but it's at an awkward angle; all that can be seen are glimpses of Sunday's hands and the flowers.
Then there's a very familiar voice. Or tone of voice, anyway. ]

You there!
You're under arrest!

What?[ From Sunday's tone, he doesn't seem to take very kindly to this sort of thing. As he presumably rises to his feet, the mirror ( Read more... )

[ There appears to be nothing going on. Sunday is standing in the woods, turned away from the camera, and looking down at something in his hand.

Then he pulls the chain that holds it up over his head. There's a soft clink of metal ( Read more... )

[ It's quite sunny today! Sunday has taken advantage of the weather, apparently; from the mirror's awkward angle, it appears to be outside, low to the ground. But it's close enough for a clear view of what's happening ( Read more... )

[ Sunday appears to be carefully inspecting a small box. It's full of soil.
Three small buds are poking out, barely visible, from the soil's surface. They are a vivid green.
The Denizen seems to be satisfied with the results, before looking slightly annoyed as he picks up and inspects a second box, this time with the stamp of a heart on top ( Read more... )

[ At first, there's nothing but darkness.
Then a fuzzy image flickers into being, and slowly clears up. There is a young man on the other end (or at least he looks young), dressed like he's just stepped out from Victorian England.
His eyes are slightly unnerving; they are incredibly dark. It's a little like staring into an abyss, and having it ( Read more... )