For when there's no entry up, or for random house adventures. Third-person, present tense preferred.

Crew anytime, anyone else with prior notification.

[It's the Blue Light, and Edmund is at the bar, one elbow on it, chin in hand. He's grown, today - thank you, full moon - and it's vaguely empty, still - it's late, and a Monday.]

I figure I ought to get out of this rut and actually do something. We lost a waitress and I need someone who actually knows alcohol, as well.

Does anyone need a job?

[ ( Read more... )

[There's silence, basically. Then finally, it's there: terse, short, without any feeling.]

My siblings are gone. That's Caspian, as well.

If you work at the Blue Light, well. It's now mine. I won't be changing much, but let me know, at some point, if you're about.

Has anyone seen Lucy or Caspian?

Were they taken by the statues? Has anyone heard from them? Anyone at all?

[ooc: short because of worry ;__;]

Suddenly I understand why I don't get along with the cat.

[ooc: Edmund has a crow for a daemon today!]

All right, so this isn't usual...this...flying, business, and it would be a lot easier if it didn't involve quite so much spitting, but I suppose everything has some kind of price.

Although I doubt most airplanes are powered by spitting.

I'm actually a bit thirsty, now.

Are they gone?

[A SQUEAL]

All right, yes, that's a no.

[ooc: Because Kings are hot Narnian property, you may do as you wish!]

[Snoring. And then a shift, and the camera turns on when it tumbles and crashes to the ground, and shows his Royal Majesty, King Edmund of Narnia, wearing a suit.

Yes, that is a checkered shirt. He snorts and opens his eyes a little.]

Bother is it midni---

[PAUSE. AND HORROR.]

Honestly after all day of having this bloody thing off-!

Every time one of those weekends, the ones where people turn into animals or switch sex or I don't know, become children, or whatever else kind of curse the City arranges, I think about some of those stories where people transform into animals as a punishment for something and have to find someone to kiss them back to usual ( Read more... )

Well.

One thing's certain - the entire garden may be covered in leaves, but I'm certainly not going to clean it up. At least not until the bloody trees stop shedding.

[Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.]