unpredict | in the night contact

[He considers very seriously who to go to and Kol comes to mind namely because they spoke at the Town Hall.]

Hey. Would you be interested in helping me out with something? It involves heights and hopefully might get us more information about where we are.

( Javert's not going to bother identifying himself. The rough, even way that he speaks should be obvious on it's own, as should the conversation. He's seen what Kol is capable of during the capture the flag game, but he wants to know more. )

I don't believe we spoke about what type of combat you're proficient in.

( It's been nearly a day since they last spoke, and during that time, Javert's been looking high and low for the rock Kol seems concerned about. It's not a demanding job by any means, given that Javert is usually out patrolling Beacon at most hours of the day anyway. He needn't go too far out of his way to look for something that's been stolen.

It gives him something to do, and Javert cannot be anymore grateful for that. He hates being idle, feeling useless. It gives him great pride to send word back to Kol, informing him of his success. You wouldn't be able to tell from the curtness of his message, though. It's as reserved as Javert usually is. )

I believe I have found your rock.

If I said something about three pairs of gloves, would that mean anything to you?

[ daylight feels bad for being so abrupt but between waking up and feeling stiff as a non-jointed construct that hasn't been oiled in a while, he can only type so many words on his tablets before his stiff, pins-and-needles fingers go nope.

he hopes what he just wrote makes sense, taking the plunge by hitting send and seeing if he gets an answer of some sort. ]

A little sketch of a bird who is wearing a cute Christmas hat and happens to hold a pair of snazzy white gloves in their beak. ‘Thank you,’ is written being the sketch along with well-wishes for the winter holidays and the year ahead. It’s notably not signed.

[Attached is a picture taken just outside the church. It's a small army of tiny snowmen (no taller than 5-10 inches) or perhaps more accurately snow sigillaria. If you look, each snowman has an initial on its belly to correspond to the people Jason considers himself close to. Written in the snow are the words: Happy Saturnalia & Merry Christmas.

He couldn't find enough gifts for everyone he wanted to, so he sculpted these an sent out a sort of Christmas card instead. Of course, the snowmen are still there in person for the foreseeable future.]

A ridiculously sealed note is left at Kol's place. When he manages to finally open it - why? so much tape?? - he'll see the following message written in a surprisingly neat cursive script:

Hi Kol,

I wanted to let you and the others who fell asleep during the events and had dreamt of the past(?) of Beacon this info: You can write to Dr. Solis and share your experience with her.

You can leave your letter over at the Post Office whenever you want to get around to that. Postmaster General will send your letter to her.

Thanks,
Daylight.

The memory inside is cold, impossibly cold. Kol is covered in nitrogen ice and hurtling through the cosmos with his best friend, his companion: Charon. A massive moon but still too puny to run on her own, Kol took him in. Charon's weight threw their orbit off-kilter, and now the two of them spin hand in hand through the vacuum of space, Kol all the while hiding his heart behind his back.

But today! Today is a magical day, as Kol and Charon stream recklessly across the sky, veering hard back toward the sun. They tumble straight past Neptune, cutting off his orbit and jettisoning themselves out of last place. Hah!

Kol and Charon sprint toward their distance home-star, and it will be a very long time before they can hope to feel the faintest hint of warmth from it, but they've got all this sky to race through in the meantime. Kol reaches out toward Charon to plant a copper red kiss of tholins and love atop her head, their atmospheres brushing together softly in the vastness, and the memory ends.

did you catch the loudmouth idiots on the network?

i'm sorry, that's an insult to your intelligence. nobody could have missed the loudmouth idiots on the network.

just when you think this place can't get any worse, half of it floods and you have to dig a torch out of a pile of doll parts. if some kind of creepy ghost girl comes to steal my body, you better not like her more than me

still kicking out there, old man? here's hoping you haven't had to dig through a pile of, i repeat, disfigured doll parts

un: jupitersgrace

@javert, voice

@javert, backdated to oct 31

( text; after the dreamers event. )

A GIFT FOR THE HOLIDAYS. (THE 25TH.)

text -- backdated to Christmas

A SEALED NOTE. ( backdated: jan 21, tuesday. )

KOL FINDS AN OPAL

@ELVIRA

@ELVIRA