An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

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An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Que on Fri 19 Feb 2016, 8:42 pm

The floors looked like the weirdest gray carpets that could only be found in some store off of Route 666 that sold stuff no other store would because these products, no matter how you looked at them, no matter what angle, always seemed more alive than was right or allowable for anyone normal. The walls weren't much better, they looked like they were constantly blushing at some romantic notion that could only ever be guessed at, and the ceiling looked like a sky from some place better avoided let alone mentioned. There were halls, and rooms, too many rooms and halls full of will that hadn't been used or contemplated yet. So much of it was solid especially and yet all of the rooms were uncertainties, like facts that had no proof behind them whatsoever because they were impossible to prove. There was a room, though, somewhere, that held an ever-growing collection of hats, and two plush goldfish dolls (one named Wandsworth, the other Slim). Death danced around, humming a tune that was apparent to her, and the walls, but was annoying the carpet, and confusing the ceiling. She was going to ask someone to trade with her soon, once she had danced the rhythm out of her body and the tune out of her head. Then, she would ask, politely, of course.


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The Free Maker

Post  The Storyteller on Sat 20 Feb 2016, 5:01 am

Somewhere within the closet a token manifests, a stone coin with the several symbols laced together upon it's one side and on the other is an eye enclosed within a upright five-pointed star enclosed in a circle, enclosed in a eight-pointed star enclosed in a circle. The coin hums slightly so it might be noticed, but other than that appears to wait patiently. A physical invitation to the realm of the Free Maker.
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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Que on Sat 20 Feb 2016, 8:37 am

Death dances along, past the closet with the humming coin. And then she stops dead in her tracks, somersaults backward into a pretzel legged sitting position just in front of the closet. The walls turned into a burnt orange, and mumbled their own petrified and delighted notions about the token. She stared at the coin speculatively for a while, turned to the walls and said Don't worry, be home soon! Then, she put her finger on the coin. Such a simple movement, yet it seemed to last an eternity, and then poof. She was gone, and so was the coin. As a matter of fact, so was the closet. The halls whimpered in confusion and worry, the ceiling sniggered.
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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Que on Sat 27 Feb 2016, 1:51 am

Matthew, the sleek black raven, flew into the room with a tattered pink couch, a bunch of book shelves, and a coffee table (in the middle of which was a black top hat that was left there for no other reason than the fact that it was). Matthew landed on the back of the couch, to stare at what he had brought home. Matthew didn't necessarily remember being born, or even made. He remembered the sound of dice, and then being here, that was it. Lady Death had taken to him instantly, and had made a room for him all his own in her realm, though she had needed to leave for something shortly afterward. Though she had told him at the time something complicated and along the lines of, not all of me was here in the first place, and right now I'm to busy, and can you stay and watch everything. Not even a minute afterwards she had asked him to send that message to Fayth. And now a being made of bones, with a silver mask that didn't even hide her face (if anything it pronounced it), too many (eleven would've been okay, but twelve was going too far) wings, and a metal scythe fused to it's left hand. The thing screeched loudly, Matthew covered his face with his wing and made a short guttural sound.
Her screech meant something along the lines of: Where is M'Lady?
His grunt just meant the noise bothered him. He made a big fluttering gesture with his wings in a bit of a huff before he finally responded Boss lady isn't home. But don't get your bones broken over it, she will be back soon enough. He contemplated the being in front of him, and realized two things. One: that Al-Maut was hard to say with a beak, well, to be truthful the beak may not have had anything to do with it, it was just a damned hard name to say. Two: that the Boss was the type of chick to fall in love with anything no matter how abnormal or annoying. He ruffled his feathers as he folded his wings into a more comfortable position. He pondered how long it would take to get used to her way of speaking, and decided to nickname her Maude. It would make things easier.
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Storyteller

Post  The Storyteller on Mon 29 Feb 2016, 9:49 am

Suddenly Al-Maut finds herself carrying a massive flaming sword. It's a rather regal looking thing and apparently very heavy.
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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Que on Mon 29 Feb 2016, 5:05 pm

Death appeared beside Al-Maut, and then turned to look her over. She was the Arch-High Seraphim from Fayth, she knew, as soon as she had sensed her presence. You wanted to come here, yes? Death asked. Matthew responded along with Al-Maut, both of them screeching and cawing at the same time made the ceiling rise about ten feet higher than it was before, and the walls retreat around the same distance.
Matthew had cawed Yes, Boss. I made sure that all of the Arch High Seraphim had their say. Made positive.
And at the same time Al-Maut had shrieked and screeched like a banshee what basically translated into: Of course, I wanted to come! I am yours! I shall serve you! I shall do my best!
Death chuckled sweetly at the both of them and walked over to the table, taking the small feminine top-hat that was there and putting it on. Her wild hair fit under it loosely. She wore a black tank top, and grey jean-shorts that had a red belt and attached to black suspenders that criss-crossed over her back. She wore no shoes. Sitting down on the tattered couch, which made gentle welcoming creaks under her weight, she sighed. All right, she said distantly, her tone suddenly becoming less formal, I surrender. I don't have much for you to-- will you put that sword down? No, no, no, on the table. The walls will be mad if you put it there. Thank you. All right, where was I? Oh, yes. I don't have much work for you to do but when I need you I will call on you. Otherwise, I have work to tend to in awhile that might need more of my presence.
Al-Maut screeched a response that basically meant: Lady Death, do you not like me?
Death stood up and gave her an empathetic grin as she moved closer to Al-Maut I love you, Al-Maut. Perhaps I am a little disappointed in my brother Fayth, but I do love you Al-Maut. She gave the winged skeleton a comforting hug and pulled away with a grin. Now come over here you scowling bird. she beckoned Matthew sweetly. That's contradictory Boss Lady, birds can't scowl. Well, I can feel it, Matt, and you're scowling. With a little humph the raven flew over to Death and his new colleague, landing squarely on the top of the hat on Death's head. I trust you two will get along? Death said with the lilting accusatory tones of a mother about to leave an aggressive teenager home alone to take care of a child. Both of them said they would. So Death took Matthew and set him atop Al-Maut's scythe, and disappeared.
Matthew looked at Al-Maut suspiciously I'm gonna call you Maude
The grinning skull shrieked something like: Okay. and Matthew clicked his talons against the scythes blade satisfactorily.
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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Que on Mon 07 Mar 2016, 4:05 pm

Matthew and Al-Maut had been getting along quite well, although that was mostly due to the fact that Matthew had taken more or less to the sky and had ordered Al-Maut to tidy up. Luckily, Al-Maut was the type to follow orders, and put up little to no resistance. Because Matthew was flying around the edges of the realm he was the first to see the feather fall from the sky. He snapped it up in his beak and angled his wings for a sharp turning glide to a window. Most of the time, he would've been able to fly right in, but Al-Maut had been tidying, and apparently closing windows. The velocity he had reached when he realized his destination was glass allowed for some mildly aggressive flapping before he body-slammed the thing. With a grunt and a growl he peeled himself off of the unbroken glass and circled the building until he found an opening he could fly through. Al-Maut was in a bedroom that smelled of age and wood, with a hint of lilacs.
The floor was wood, half of the panels were a rosey colour whilst the other half looked to be dark oak. There was a canopy bed in the middle of the room with pink and red sheets. A window seat with flowery curtains was in the wall to the right, and a glass sliding door leading out to a beautiful balcony to the left. At the end of the bed, facing the door carved with flowers adorning a scythe, was a dresser full of things that Al-Maut was in the middle of ordering and folding. In the corner of the room was a glass grandfather clock that sparkled with the shine of cleanliness.
Matthew landed on Al-Maut's head and pecked her mask squarely in it's nose. Al-Maut scream-shrieked in surprise. Who told ya to close the windows idiot? he cawed his irritation as he pecked her again, this time more gently. She screeched something like an apology, that she had no idea the windows were meant to stay open, but that pecking was an act of violence uncalled for in this situation. And then, to his surprise, she sat him down on the bed and gave him quite the lecture about it. Every time he tried to interrupt her she tapped the but of her scythe loudly on the floor, and he kept his pretty beak shut. When her screeching, shrieking lesson had been taught, Matthew hung his head. Sorry, Maude. I didn't think pecking someone in the face was that bad. Really sorry. he apologized as he hopped from claw to claw with embarrassment.
Death, who had been leaning unnoticed on the grandfather clock, clapped. Good job, Al-Maut. she said with the brilliant ever-grinning smile of a skeletal face. She walked over to the raven and plucked the feather from his mouth. Thank you, Matthew, I need to answer this. she said as she pulled the little hairs of the feather, making them longer, and sturdier. Then she weaved them. She did this until the beautiful feather resembled something like a braided and perhaps overworked door. Then she adorned it with a doorknob made of bone. Then she sent it away, sitting down heavily with the satisfaction of knowing the job she had set out to do was now done. She asked Al-Maut to take a seat on the other side of her, and then she took them both in her arms and hugged them, squeezed them to her. She sighed, as if recharged by this act of affection, and let them go before standing, and giving them their marching orders.
Someone will be visiting, she explained, and we must prepare.

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A Visitor

Post  Guestor on Mon 07 Mar 2016, 5:39 pm

As the door the Maker of Death had fashioned from a spirit feather opened, a whirlpool of colors began to manifest itself in Death's realm, the Sphere of Dreams spinning through and around it until he was floating at it's top. Examining his surroundings, Kairos altered the whirlpool's appearance until it was quietly swirling below him. The colors also shifted, taking on the hues of the realm he was now visiting.

Growing in impatience, but too vain to commit an act that could be considered impolite at this juncture, Kairos advanced at a extremely slow pace through Death's home realm. "A mere greeting, some words. Then I shall bother her no more." He thought to himself as he quietly continued spinning almost in place
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Death

Post  Que on Tue 08 Mar 2016, 5:58 pm

Death's realm consisted of a small expanse of dark, charred earth traveling diligently around an apartment building that looked to be about five or six stories tall depending on which angle you were looking from. On the outside it was made of black, mossy bricks, with windows of every shape and decade placed in the oddest places, with some of them opened, and most of them closed. Still, it was easy to catch random glimpses of the rooms beyond the windows, and each little peek would likely be curiouser than the last. There was a little three step wooden stair leading up to the grand door, although the building wasn't quite on a platform. It just so happened to be three feet off the ground. It had been an accident, Death still hadn't gotten used to the idea of gravity when she made this Realm. The front door opened to a long hallway, with many doors on either side of it, and one door at the end. In front of an oddly carved wooden door on the right side of the corridor a 12 winged skeleton wearing shadowy red velvet robes with ivy roses embroidered up the sleeves, and a silver skull mask over it's actual, proper skull; she held a metal scythe, or perhaps the scythe held it's owner, as it was fused to the bone of her hand. Al-Maut waved energetically at the spherical creature of colour and let out her shrill Banshee scream, which sufficed to be her own impromptu language, and in her way she said: Welcome! Pleased to meet you! Right this way! She then opened a door to a rather sparse room with only a small wooden table that had two plush chairs at either end of it, with a plate in the middle that was piled high with different homemade cookies. Death was sitting in one chair, conversing quietly with a sleek black raven she was calling Matthew. When Al-Maut opened the door, she stood and bowed lightly Hello, Duke. Fare you well?
Al-Maut stood to the right of Death's chair while Matthew took a place (which he had begun to quite enjoy) on the blade of her scythe and settled there. He nodded his approval at Al-Maut, who, despite the inability to actually show it, positively gleamed.
Death was wearing a simple black tank-top with tight gray jeans and cinnamon brown boots, along with a black lace necklace that had a silver ankh hanging low from it. She wore a face over her skull, unlike she did in most realms, a face that was currently smiling amiably. Her wild, curly black hair was wrapped up in a tight bun, though many stray curls had gotten loose anyway. Sharp gray-gold eyes watched Kairos with mild curiosity mixed with a quirky sense of loving joy.

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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Guestor on Tue 08 Mar 2016, 8:38 pm

The Duke of Perfection did not know how to feel about his surroundings - he enjoyed surrealism, for Spirit is nothing if puzzling and capricious. But Death's realm was definitely macabre, and he could not help but feel the slightest bit of rejection. But even so he carried on with dignity, slowing down his spin until the surface of the sphere could be seen with more detail. In his mind, an act of politeness.

"Well meet, Maker of Death." The whirlpool upon which the Sphere of Dreams spun shifted as to allow the sphere to mimic the gesture of a bow, then returned to it's former state.

"Needless to say this meeting is but a formality, but I nonetheless wished to tell you personally that you can always discuss private matters at your convenience." The sphere shifted about, as Kairos fixated himself on the raven for a moment. "Curious creature." He thought to himself, then returned his attentions to his host. "I also do not wish to disrespect your courtesy mind you, but speaking of private matters - is per chance anything you wish to discuss with me?"
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Death

Post  Que on Wed 09 Mar 2016, 9:12 pm

Actually, yes. I had wanted to speak with you about the situation we've had on our hands these past few days. Death explained sweetly as Al-Maut walked delicately out of the room, so as not to disturb the two of them, with Matthew on her scythe. Death took a cookie and tasted it with the apprehension of one who was about to speak of very important things and was trying to figure out how exactly to say it. Al-Maut came back in just as quietly with a very nice gray tea set which she placed next to the plate of cookies, before retaking her place beside Death. Matthew, who had not come in on her scythe, flew into the room a little later. The reason for his lateness went unsaid as he landed a little clumsily on Al-Maut's head. The Old One, she finally continued as she took a sip from one of the cups, and the danger it poses. We're doing things, with much help from The Mind, to remedy it. You had wanted to help us, and become a part of the Pantheon before, when you were of different form and, I think perhaps, thought. I wanted to know how you felt about it now, if you still feel the same, considering how you've changed.

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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Guestor on Wed 09 Mar 2016, 10:10 pm

The Maker of Death did not play around the issue, so neither did the Maker of Spirits - if only out of cordiality. The Sphere of Dream's spin slows down, the swirling colors resembling threads or slowly flowing liquid. "I do not have the recollections from... My previous existence, shall we call it. But from the words you speak it appears that the matter is grave, and shall be treated accordingly." The flow of spirit around the sphere speeds up somewhat again after those words.

"Unfortunately, I am in disagreement with some of my previous existence's decisions, the idea of a centralized pantheon being one of them." The Maker of Spirit made sure to emphasize certain words as he spoke them through means only Spirit could device. "I am inexorable in this position and unlikely to change it. For as one who has been touched by Time, I know too well the dangers of performing such a daring feat."

"But of course, this must not mean the end of all cooperation. I am certain we can find common ground on other issues such as the matter of the Old One you have taken care to address."
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Death

Post  Que on Wed 09 Mar 2016, 10:41 pm

Ah, yes. Well, The Old One, I had thought it was made clear? The Old One is being taken care of by the Pantheon. And as you are inexorable about it... Well, the matter is being settled anyway. Was there anything else you wanted to speak to me about. She said amiably. She felt no offense in him choosing not to be a part of the Pantheon, though thought it quite funny that he had seemingly misunderstood the Pantheon, as it was not meant to be something permanent or even centralized. It was meant more to be a kind of call of arms for the Makers who wanted to deal with the threat quickly, and in a way that would continue to protect them in the future. Or at least that's how she had interpreted it. But if he wanted to see it in whatever negative light, he was allowed that, and she wasn't about to correct him considering there was nothing really to correct if you thought about it long enough, it was all a matter of perception. In that way, he was as right about it as she. She took another deep pull from the cup as she pondered the situation more thoroughly. As for her companions, they remained quiet listeners, each with their own private thoughts on the matter. Though Matthew glared, but that had less to do with the context of the situation and more to do with the fact that he thought the Duke looked far to colourful, and it was very unnatural, but coming from a mono-hued creature that thought process didn't mean much. Al-Maut noticed his glare and decided she would have to scold him for it later.

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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Guestor on Thu 10 Mar 2016, 9:36 am

"I see. Very well then, seeing as we have no more topics of discussion I shall take my leave. Farewell, Maker of Death." The Maker of Spirits slowly vanished until in his place was nothing, not even a trace of his presence. To an observer, it could easily be as if he had never been there.
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Krozo

Post  The Storyteller on Fri 11 Mar 2016, 2:36 pm

A flash of thunder outside comes with a whisper from the Storm Lord Krozo. May I come in?

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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Que on Fri 11 Mar 2016, 7:59 pm

We're just entertaining all sorts of visitors today aren't we boss? Matthew asked sarcastically as he flew back into the room with the piece of paper Death had sent him for. She took it, and waited patiently for Al-Maut to come back with a pen. Don't mind it, she said, her voice had again changed in it's little way, as it always did, they are all welcome. Besides, the threat of the Old One looms over us, everyone's just trying to prepare.
Death and Matthew continued conversing over simple things, until Al-Maut burst in excitedly screeching about her adventure in the basement trying to find a pen that had, apparently, kept rolling away from her. They all laughed over it together as Death scribbled something onto the paper and began folding it delicately. Matthew dived from the top of the grandfather clock over to Al-Maut's scythe, and landed happily. You really like perching there don't you? Death smiled, as she threw the paper aeroplane directly out the window. The raven blushed secretly under his feathers and chose to remain silent.

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Krozo

Post  The Storyteller on Sat 12 Mar 2016, 4:00 am

Then there is a knock at the door. Outside Krozo stands charming and well-groomed as ever, for the first time he was wearing something more... well ahead of it's time. Like Death would be prone to do it would seem, he was wearing trousers and boots; even wearing a proper shirt and a leather jacket. He looked actually rather dashing, I should mention the shirt had a Union Flag and he certainly had a certain English vibe about him now that he really didn't have before. Somehow just entering into Death's realm made him acquire it.

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Re: An Awkward Apartment: Death's Realm

Post  Que on Sat 12 Mar 2016, 11:25 pm

What's up, Krozo? Death said, greeting him at the door of her quiet apartment complex with a smile and two glasses of rum on the rocks. She took the time to guide him to the room where she had just before met with Kairos, and set the cups down in front of the two chairs before sitting in the one that her servants, or friends, were standing beside. What d'you need brother?

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Krozo

Post  The Storyteller on Sun 13 Mar 2016, 9:55 am

Krozo shrugged taking one of the glasses from her hand as he comes into the realm. "Honestly just wanted to hang out if that's alright with you. Thanks for the drink... although should you be uh... you know? Sort of looked like you had shit for tolerance in the Free Maker's Realm. Wouldn't be much fun to hang out if you just went passing out on me. Chuckling as he looks around the room, namely for a comfortable place to sit.

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Death

Post  Que on Sun 13 Mar 2016, 10:52 am

The room was rather different than the hallway, the wooden floors felt more comfortable, the pinkish walls looked kinder, and more accommodating. It was a spartan room with nothing in it but a small, square wooden table in the room (a plate in the middle of that table was piled high with different types of homemade cookies that all looked scrumptious and delicately beautiful), two plush chairs at either end of it, and a tall glass grandfather clock in the far left corner. There were long, elegantly painted glass windows that stood from floor to ceiling, and opened to let in the cool delightful morning air which teased the silk white curtains playfully. Death sat in one of the chairs with her legs crossed. You're probably right. she said, her voice taking the soft tone it did when she was in the company of someone she was more familiar with. She picked up her glass and swished the liquid around until it took on a clearer colour, and fizzed a little, then took a sip. Now, there are no worries. she grinned, setting the glass down and easing back into her chair. Besides, she began explaining, the only reason my tolerance was so little is because I am spread so thin. Granted I'm not spread that thin, but even if I have shit tolerance, it's not so bad that I'd keel over at the first sip. At least, it wouldn't usually be.

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Death

Post  Que on Mon 14 Mar 2016, 7:59 am

Ah! Death gasped in surprise (her voice even became formal because of it) as if someone had just dexterously pinched her, hard. She giggled and stood, Krozo. Excuse me for a moment. Swiftly she marched Al-Maut over to a corner and explained something to her. She wasn't trying to be secretive about it, she just felt that the matter with Gaia was separate from her party with Krozo. Gaia thinks it wise you accompany the part of me that is currently with her. Would you like to go? If you want to stay, I'll tell her. Death asked compassionately. Al-Maut, of course, shrieked with joy at the prospect of following an order. Matthew, himself, decidedly gave his two cents before his opinion was left unregarded I ain't letting Maude go by herself. If you'll excuse me Boss, she's the type to get herself into trouble.
I rather think it's the other way around.
Yeah, you're probably right, the raven admitted gruffly, his talons tapping impatiently on the scythe.
But, considering you've made a friend, and you want to go: consider permission granted.
Al-Maut, and Matthew both managed to shriek/ croak their prideful and joyful merriment to their master before taking flight easily through the window. Once they had gone, Death returned to her chair. Sorry about that. So... Music? she half-questioned and half-answered as something like it filled the room.
Parrrtttttaaaayyyyy:

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Krozo

Post  The Storyteller on Mon 14 Mar 2016, 9:25 am

Chuckling as Death explains her recent poor experience with alcohol. "Perhaps, but be that as it may... better safe than sorry? Perhaps?" Nodding as she's asks to be excused and watching intently as she speaks to Al-Maut and Matthew. He finds the conversation very interesting. When she returns and starts the music he nods his head a little bit before turning to Death. "So that bird, what is it? A raven? I think that's right, where did he come from may I ask? He doesn't feel necessarily... right? Does he? I mean he doesn't feel... made if that makes sense?"

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The Storyteller
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Death

Post  Que on Mon 14 Mar 2016, 9:44 am

The thing is I don't really know where he came from, she explained a little mysteriously, One time while I was waltzing around this place I found an egg. Seriously, I'm not kidding. I almost stepped on it, and even when I managed to keep myself from doing so, I had no idea what it was or how it was there considering I didn't make it. Awhile later, when I was fuming about something stupid, the egg was hatching. And there he was, Matthew, the talking raven. I told him he could leave if he wanted to, that he didn't have to stay here with me. But, he was born here, and he likes taking orders, so here I am with not only an Angel, but also a bird. she shrugged. Might as well go with it.

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Krozo

Post  The Storyteller on Tue 15 Mar 2016, 6:22 am

Krozo laughs out loud for a moment, "that does seem to be the thing to do isn't it? I mean we haven't really been Makers for that long have we? I get this weird feeling like sort of, maybe it's been about ... possibly? a Month by what may be mortal standards... or the Storyteller's I'm not even entirely sure. Still we haven't been around that long at all ... doesn't feel like it's been very long anyway. Yet everything is already hitting the fan and going to hell in a hand-basket. Sort of feels like being a newborn in a basket being thrown into a nest of alligators... Oh well! Like you said might as well roll with it right?" Ending his statement with a big gulp of his alcoholic beverage and shooting Death a wink mutually.

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The Storyteller
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Death

Post  Que on Tue 15 Mar 2016, 8:19 am

Death blinked dubiously at her brother's sense of time It feels like it's barely been a day since I awoke to me. she said. Although, I think you're right, I also am beginning to believe we were curse with bad luck from the very beginning. I mean, we wake up, someone's invaded, we've got to deal with the threat. We're no so we barely have a concept for lots of things which ends up with alot of us being more closed minded than I'm honestly happy with because I somehow managed to be born with a more liberal mindset and I don't know if that's exactly good or bad. We're fighting each other over stupid shit, and idiotic miscommunications and fucked up misunderstandings because we all have trouble keeping in touch. And now Truth is in her realm, in trouble, and yes two of our siblings are there helping her but that doesn't decrease the worry. And I think 'shit-hit-the-fan' is an understatement. And I really wish I had a higher tolerance 'cause I need a drink. Death pretty much just ended up blurting out everything she was thinking all at once. She took a deep breath after the blab fest, and a long sigh. Then she did a little wavy hand thing over the cookies with a sudden devious smirk. Fuck alcohol. I'm making these cookies, 420 Cookies.


/Song Change:


(OOC: Death Gon' get high

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