oo1 ⌛ video ⌛ open to both courts

[antagonising]

[ The locket opens and the view from the message's intended audience shows the condition of the Station, after Ariadne-Lawkamercyme's rampage through the place not days earlier — claw marks on the walls, furniture and interior structure shredded and destroyed, carpets ruined, basically the entire place in shambles.

Then, Natasha appears. ]

I don't need to ask what happened, here — it's pretty evident that those things got inside somehow and tore the entire place up. I'm a little surprised they'd cause this much damage, though; they hadn't seemed that large when I'd encountered them on the road from Caer Scima.

I assume the threat is gone, for now? If anyone from either court is interested in assisting with the clean-up and repair, I'd imagine they could use someone here with a little more construction know-how than I have. [ She's an expert in demolitions, not rebuilding, and she gives the locket a small smirk. ]

I'm sure the fairies and imps will appreciate it.

Comments

[antagonising]

Well, I can't argue with that, really. [ She shrugs. ] Little bit too IKEA, for me.

Still, the familiarity was nice. Especially compared to Medieval Times. [ aka, the rest of the Drabwurld. ]

[deadpoet]

Seems a bit more early Renaissance, really. But the important bit is, are the smokes safe?

[antagonising]

...History buff? [ She shrugs a bit, through the locket - she's not really one herself (more interested in Russian and American history more than anything), but this guy seems like he knows his stuff. ]

I'm not sure what you mean by 'smokes'. Pretty much everything was in shambles when I got here, including the mini-mart, which might've stocked what you were looking for.

[deadpoet]

Not really. Just knew an artsy dame once, that's all. [Rest in peace, Joyce Summers.] But you know? Smokes? Cigs? Fags? Tabs? Bogeys? Stokes? Jacks? Joes? Cancer Sticks? Bloody cigarettes, bird. A man can only smoke a bloody pipe for so long.

[antagonising]

— I know what 'smokes' are, [ she clarifies, just the slightest bit mildly annoyed, ] I'm just saying there's not much left here, after that rampage. Regardless of whether you meant cigars or cigarettes, good luck finding anything intact.

[ And then her eyes narrow a bit. ] ...And did you just call me a bird?

[deadpoet]

Bloody hell. Here I go off to do some bloody heroics and the Station gets trashed. And what do I have to show for it? A sodding pouch of tobacco courtesy of Her Most Evilness.

[He's not going to address the other part. He calls people things. It's what he does.]