01 March 2014 @ 12:00 am
 
◤carnival CATASTROPHE◢
The Clock still ticks. The Carousel still turns. The City, that wondrous place that never needed any other name because there was and could be and would always only ever be The City, still stands, as glittering and dark as ever, as full of possibilities and sorrow as ever. It is every city, it is only The City. It is that multicolored, iridescent, rainbow, polychromatic City.

It stands, now and forever.

As the last person departs from the City, leaving it in the hands of the native-born Citizens, the Animal Trinity, the Deities, and the Anonymous Movement, the Carousel plays a sweet and haunting song, a requiem for all those who have come and gone from the City...


[community profile] poly_chromatic is now C L O S E D.

Thank you
P O L Y c h r o m a t i c
Goodnight & Good luck ♥


✘F I N.
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 09:57 pm
 
[It's clearly the Blue Light, and Kat is sitting at the bar. For the first time he doesn't look so young. He looks older, a little more weathered. He has a drink in his hand; it's something clear, but when he turns the glass it sparkles red, blue, green, purple, orange, polychromatic.]

Hey, Black Dog.

[He says it fondly. He swings his legs. Black Dog is there with him, quiet. Kat's clearly in a mood tonight.]

I've been thinking about it a lot. Stories, you know? I don't think it was ever about the clock, or the deities, or us, or even the Animals - yeah, you too.

I think it was always about stories. About living them. Telling them. About being surrounded in stories. Once upon a time and a story, a story, let it come, let it go. Back, far back, in the mists of time when the world was young.

Back in the day when animals could talk.

A long time, in Estonia, people didn't have bathtubs in their houses.

[There's a deep laugh, and it's not from Kat, or from Black Dog. It's like without people, without the ticking, there's a sound that people can hear. The City itself. Laughing.]

Yeah, you like that one, huh?

[Kat laughs and there's a glitter from his glass.]

Well okay. So I'm thinking it was always about stories. Someone is always telling the story, and they love it. But you know that the story has to end, doesn't it?

That's the best part. The closure. This place wasn't about us. It was about the stories.

[He looks up, then, and walks over to the door. There's a sign - Open.]

You already did the carousel, right?

[He nods and looks at the door, then finishes his drink and sets the glass down on a nearby table, and turns the sign.

Closed
]


Come on. Let's go home.
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 08:56 pm
 
So this is finally it? Never thought this even happen over the years it's been for me

It's about time we were finally allowed to go back to our worlds. At least now I can finish what I need to do without interruptions on being pulled back into this place.

[and with that he ends the feed and goes through one of the doors]
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 07:04 pm
 
[He-Who-Kills door leads to The Dreaming.

Different lands inside flit by in a mindbogglingly mix until one weaves its way out, filling the frame and shows a town.

A house's chimney flue opens; Fireplace Imps scuttle out. Zanti Misfits swarm from the basement window of another dwelling. Coming around a corner, Talky Tina leads a procession of unsettling dolls and stuffed toys. Faceless Fiends and Martian Hobs hop into view.

More and more of the town's other eerie residents appear. They gather before the door.

The Small&Frightful cheer in unison. One of their own, long absent, has come home.]
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 06:23 pm
 
[Len-Len, swaddled in spelled for warmth blankets against the City's late winter, has already been passed thru the door to Jan. A few minutes later, Enyo flies over the threshold to join them.

Although both python and dragonette are very much alive, they are permitted to be in the Afterlife.

Before he too crosses over, Luke takes one final look at the world he spent almost a decade in.]


"Prost!"

[And exit.]
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 09:06 pm
You know what it's like to feel like you've always been somewhere, even if you haven't? That's what I feel like. The City's felt like home since the first day, just about, and all of you are this giant extended family. What I'm getting at is that leaving is definitely not my favorite thing, which is so weird because I get to be alive and go wherever I want. That should basically trump everything else, right? But leaving means making a new home, and I like the one I've had here.

I remember coming here. It was January and I'd just died at home, so I looked like an extra in a horror movie. Steve Rogers, you were the first person I talked to, and you showed me to the Welcome Center. I might as well admit that I had a huge crush on you for... well, I still do, a little, but I'm really, really happy for you and Bucky. I met Wilson and Rosella and Curt and Lucy and Chase and Raikov, and you all remembered me from the last time I was here--or they remembered the other me that was here. Stephen and Euphie did, too. I don't know how that works, exactly. It was strange, and it only got stranger when Euphie told me that I started the Welcome Center. There was even a box of things I'd left behind. I still have all of it. It doesn't feel quite right, since I'm not sure that I'm the same Penny as the Penny they belonged to, but who lets a gorgeous violin go to waste?

That's something I plan on doing more in the future. Violin-playing. Painting, too. Things've been so busy that I forgot how to have hobbies there for a while.

What I really want to say is thank you. I freaked out a couple of times and there were always friends to talk me down or give me vegan comfort food or take me out to get my mind off of things. When I was lost in the City-Desert, Dean--not the one who's here now, the other one--came roaring in with that car of his and saved me from a two-headed worm thing, and when I was handcuffed to a drunk pervert--no offense to Peter, that's just the truth--a bunch of you convinced me not to do anything crazy like cut my hand off. When I thought I was back in high school, you guys were friendly even though I was more spastic than normal. That one time I thought I was a working lady at a saloon? Yeah. There are a lot of people I should thank for not taking me up on my business offers. I drank tea that turned me into a complete jerk and everyone forgave me. And then all of the times I've been totally overwhelmed by newcomers or visitors and didn't have enough people on board to help, it seemed like almost everyone was willing to lend a hand. And Yin? I don't think anyone's ever been as willing to help out as much as you. I really appreciate that.

And this last October... things were really bad there for a while. Thank you for sticking with me.

I want to say something to everyone I know, but then this would last forever and I might miss someone and that'd be awful, so I'm going to find everyone who's still here so I can tell you how great you are and how much I've liked getting to know--or re-know--you. Or you can come to me. Either way, try not to leave without saying goodbye? There're too many times in life when we don't get a chance to say goodbye. I don't want to waste this one.

Take care of yourselves (especially you, Jimmy). Never stop finding a reason to smile even when things get rough, and remember that everything happens. Good, bad--everything, and none of it lasts forever. So really enjoy the good things when you have them, and tell yourself that the bad things'll improve eventually. Don't be afraid to love, even when it hurts.

That's about all I know. If you're staying, I know things can only get better from here on out.

If you're leaving, be safe and be happy, wherever your door takes you.
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 05:16 pm
[It's been a while since she's bothered to make a post, but this definitely warrants one.]

As I have welcomed some of you to the City, I now bid you farewell.

Good bye, City.

[A click, then Yin is gone.]
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 07:35 pm
[Chekov is in the cottage's living room, red engineering uniform on, surrounded by all of the things he can't take home with him. (The important things are in a dufflebag and a backpack, and Everett is coming along, too. A genius can probably think of a way to explain the suitcase, the dog, and the decidedly non-regulation haircut, right?) He's smiling at the network device. No need to end on a teary note.]

I have been here for seven-hundred and twenty-four days. It would have been two years, as of the sixth of March. Not so long as many people, but I have outstayed most of my crew--some of them twice--and the majority of friends I made when I first arrived. Overall, I have been happy--happier, sometimes, than I am at home. But I will be glad to return. I last left home during a difficult time, and there will be many funerals and speeches to endure before our long leave, and after leave, the five-year mission. Everett will go to Petersburg to live with my father; he is lonely and will enjoy the company. I will have the chance to see the night sky from Earth. I've missed them, more since I traded my memory of them to the witches in October. Maybe the memory will return.

Mostly, I'm glad that I will keep my memories. Forgetting has been my greatest fear about leaving. Too many memories, bad and good but all important, have been made in the City to be forgotten. It will be strange since almost no one will have any of these memories, and I may find it difficult to explain some things, such as aging slightly. But memories! Those are more valuable to me than anything else I am taking with me. As long as I remember those I have met, leaving will not be so hard as it would be otherwise.

I will not go into a long discussion of memories and friends because it is too soon for nostalgia, but I want to share an old Russian saying: If all the options are bad, choose the one that hurts the least. None of us, I think, are happy to be leaving, even if we miss our homes. Personally, I'm unsure if I have made the decision that hurts the least, but it is the right one. I hope that for you, my friends and even those who are not my friends, the option that hurts the least is also the right one. Try not to be too sad. As long as we all go home with our memories, we will continue to exist in the lives of one another. Saying goodbye does not erase someone from your life.

There is one more Russian saying I want to share, and it is a happier one, I promise. Nothing is permitted and everything is possible. This is my favorite saying. The City has proven it true, and it will always prove true in our futures. Maybe we will meet again. The laws of physics may not allow it, but it is not impossible.

Also, is there anyone remaining in the City who would like a motorcycle? I have a very nice one, but it is too cumbersome to take it with me.

And finally, I would like to say goodbye to most of you in person. This is no way to say goodbye.


[Private to the Voyager Crew]

I wanted to have something clever or insightful to say to you, but all I can think of is thank you. I had forgotten what it was like to be a part of a crew until mine arrived, and when they left, you allowed me to be a part of yours. I will always be grateful for this. Thank you also for sharing some of your science with me. Captain Janeway, I promise that I will not use any advancements from beyond my time, except, perhaps, for personal use.

If I am still alive in your time and you return home--and you will return home--please say hello. That me will be very different from me, but he will like meeting new people and discussing whatever scientific advancements will be current. If I am not still alive, I hope that I died very heroically. Should that be the case, don't be sad.

Maybe interuniversal travel will be mastered in your lifetimes. If that is so, I hope to see you.


[Private to Lucy]

I know that you will not want to say goodbye in person. Please reconsider? You are my first girlfriend and my first everything else and I think I will keep being too in love with you to fall in love again, so please, I would like to see you a final time.
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 06:54 pm
[ The feed activates, and here's Dewey, his lips pursed and eyebrows raised as he looks at the device. ]

So... I figured I should say one last thing before I go home. That's where I'm going. I mean, I thought about going somewhere else, maybe somewhere people would appreciate me a little bit more or let me have a dog, or where I could have superpowers or go to space or something.

[ Then he shrugs. ]

That's where I belong, though, and I... I actually miss my family.

[ He says that really quietly, because he's not supposed to fess up to having feelings. You get punched for that kind of thing in said family. ]

I miss my dad, and my mom, and Francis and Malcolm and I even miss Reese, even though he's a stupid jerk most of the time. I mean, things can be kind of awful, but they're my family, and I'm supposed to be there.

[ He pauses a moment... ]

I had a great time here, though. I got to play the piano and I got paid for it and people even told me how good I was at it. And I did all kinds of stuff that I never did before. I flew and I met people from space and one time I was a wizard and I was also older - well, I guess I'll get to do that one again - and I met people from all kinds of worlds and I'm a squire now and I got to be part of a royal wedding and...

[ He stops and smiles. ]

Yeah. It was great. So, thanks. And I hope you all get to go somewhere that's great for you now, too.

[ He's about to turn it off, but then he thinks better of it-- ]

Oh. And I'm the one who was throwing water balloons off that roof in the square a couple of weeks ago. Um... sorry.

[ And then he ends it. ]
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 05:53 pm
They said she had to go away and leave the City - no matter what. She had to leave the Library and her greenhouse and her little house built into the hill and all the places and things and people that had made her feel safe and special here.

Where would she go?

Rain had gotten a second backpack to put the rest of her special things in - the bird Tony had made for her and pictures of her house and some of the people she had known and seeds from as many of the plants as she could get - including the special rainbow one she'd gotten for helping out the City. And her books. The Library had given her two special ones - she knew they were for her to keep because her name had appeared in them in this very fancy writing with a Thank You and a fancy L for a signature.

She cried a little when she found the books there on her last day and had cried more when she had to say good bye to her greenhouse and even more when she had to leave her little house for the last time.

And now here she was, peeking through all the doors and hoping she'd find someplace that looked like she'd be happy or at least safe. But she didn't know how to tell. How could a peek through a door tell her what the people would be like or if she'd ever find a place to belong?

But still she had to go and time was running out, so she'd keep peeking and hope that something would happen to tell her which one to pick.


And then there was a door...
Tags:
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 05:00 pm
So this is to be my departure.

In all my time in the City, I never expected that I should know when I was departing. That was always the great pain and great risk of the City: to draw close to someone was to risk losing them when the City saw fit to send them away. And then there was a mourning like after a death--which I know well, as I have seen so many people come and go from the City. Never before has anyone known how soon or when or how he might leave the City. Here, we who are in the City now, we are the only ones to have this kind of bittersweet privilege, to know that we are leaving and to make preparations for that. Perhaps it was better the other way, though I'm not so sure.

I remember Lailis, the crippled queen; Megumi, who left and has returned again; I remember Princess Rue and Ahiru and Autor and Fakir who showed me such generosity when I first arrived here lost; I remember so many, both friends and foes. And Merry, and Riff--they've both come and gone so many times. And now I'll return to them again.

But for a little while. I have vows to keep in London and I hope that my father hears me again now, that I will not rest until the streets of London are baptised in either his blood or mine. And it will be his blood. Because that vow is only one of two I must keep. I will go to London and I will end this war between us.

And then I will go, by whatever means I may find, because I have found doors from my world to the City so I will find a door from my world to Daventry, and I will return to Rosella--I will return to my wife. As any soldier or lord would return from war. I have no doubt of this. I've made my vows here too.

I've packed my things in a trunk and a few bags--the things I brought with me to the City, the veritable clothes on my back from seven years ago, and all the things I've collected in my time here. It's quite a store of things, now that I've brought it all together like this. But, then, that's to be expected after nigh seven years in this place.

Rosella will take Kassandra and Noir with her, along with the rest of her menagerie. Kassandra I know she can keep well, though Kassandra could perhaps stay in the City as she fell out of the sky during a rainstorm some years ago. But she's coming with us. Noir only needs a little time in sunlight each day to keep his mechanisms running--best not to mention clockwork around Rosella-- whatever keeps an artificial cat moving. Rosella and I will say our own goodbyes properly and as we should, not here on the Network--

I've turned the Turnabout Cafe over to a young man who has been helping me with it for several months now, seeing to the day-to-day business there even though it was i my care. His family has lived in the City for several generations now, he says, and I have no doubt he'll take excellent care of the cafe.

I've walked through the Opera Abandoned a last time; taken a last turn about the City and Xanadu; I've stood a while under the cherry tree that never seems to lose its blossoms or go to leaf, the one I was told in perhaps my third or fourth day here that it was dangerous, and it was soon enough; I've set my affairs in order with the cafe and such funds as I had here; I have taken as last glance in the Fountain, watched the Carousel turn, and listened to the Clock. I wonder if I shall miss the sound of the Clock when I leave here. It's ticking slower than ever, but there's no malice to it now. It's restful, in a way. But I wonder if I shall miss it.

I shall miss the Opera Abandoned, I know. I shall miss this room I have claimed for my own--the one that Princess Rue offered to me but which Fakir and Autor stripped of anything and everything that could be used as a weapon. I have stayed in that room since. We kept the Opera Abandoned as a fortress then, and continued to do so for so many years. I put back in my own way what they took. This chair, that table, a lamp, bedclothes I preferred, books I chose myself, a carpet for the floor, some painting got cheaply for the bare wall, a secret place beneath the floorboards for my collection. It became my own place. A far cry from my house in Mayfair, but it was my own place.

I shall miss the ruin and grandeur of this place, the costumes hidden in closets, the trapdoors on the stage, the gilt and the cobwebs, the dust and the marble, the grand staircase and the great doors. I shall miss the performances we gave here, even once in the midst of a summer snowstorm--which I shall also miss, I think. I lived in only a very few rooms in this place, though I think I thought of the whole of it as my house. Save for the basement, which was the domain of Maestro Erik and He-Who-Kills, and woe betide any who would disturb their sanctuaries. I shall miss this place.

I shall miss the City, I think, despite the pains it has caused me. I remember how it was when I first arrived here, when I was wearied of an evening's ball and decided to walk home and saw a bright an inexplicable carousel turning down at the end of a dark alley. I don't know where the doorway between London and the City was in that alley, but I know I passed through it somewhere. And when I turned again to go back, the familiar streets I had left were no longer there.

I remember how confused I was, with the Network device and with the City itself. I should like to think I adapted quickly enough. Though I thought it was my father's doing at first, or someone in his organisation. Perhaps they'd drugged me and I was dreaming, or perhaps hallucinating. It seemed the most plausible thing--I even wondered if I was dead. And my father's voice rang in my head then-- A fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth-- Little wonder it did; it still rings in my head, I won't deny-- And yet, the impossible became possible, and I have very much realised that the City is real, after all.

The bright lights of the City are dazzling, as are the voices and faces of those who live in it--even those who prefer the shadows to the light, much as I do. I recall before we had the coloured coins, we would pay for things with ribbon and bright bits of paper or pretty stones. I recall the stories of the Animal Trinity when they first visited the City--or visited the wrath upon the City, perhaps. I recall snow in summer and heat in winter and great storms. I have been transformed into a child, a woman, a cat, a crow, a sultan of some far Eastern country who attempted to sell a vampire named Radu to some other king, a man of times and places not my own, a madman--the City has done much and done much to me. And yet, this horrid and ugly yet beautiful and impossible place has held me here for nearly seven years. After so much time, how can I not think that I will, in some way, miss it? I've grown accustomed to its madness. I have learned how to live between the curses, as we do. I looked forever forward to its letting me free and thought that perhaps it would never let me free. But that day has come at last, nearly seven years on.

Seven years--Rosella, isn't there a tale about a princess staying silent for seven years?

There are so many that I wish to thank here at the last before I go: He-Who-Kills, staunch defender of the Opera Abandoned; Neil Perry and Todd Anderson, knights of Daventry and true companions; Megumi Yukimura, teacher and friend and one who recollects far earlier times and whom I hope I will never soon forget; Pai, who trails after me with silent questions and with her brother following her; and most of all Rosella, princess of Daventry, whom I know I will see again so very soon; all those whom I have known in the City, whether they be friend or foe, whether they are still here or returned to their own times and places. I have a thousand names and faces in mind as I write this. Thank you. Though I know there is always a risk of forgetting when one leaves the City, I know that I will not soon forget you.

I have promises to keep now--very old ones. Merry and Riff will be waiting for me. I am seven years late from returning from a party, though I doubt they'll know that. I have promises to keep to them and promises to keep to Rosella, to whom I have now promised my life.

The impossible has become possible in the City. That has changed us all, I have no doubt.

With that, I shall take my leave of the Network and make my way to that ring of doors down in Misery Square and I will search for London, for my home, in those doorways--

--and bid you all adieu.

~C.

[ooc: Bids you all adieu.]
 
 
Current Location: Opera Abandoned
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 04:51 pm
You know, I...

Every year, on my anniversary in the City--August the 2nd, that is--I've told a story about a princess with six brothers who were changed into swans. I started doing it on my very first anniversary here, because it was so hard to imagine that a whole year had gone by, and it made me think of how time seems to pass so differently in fairy tales; the story goes that the little princess vows to go six years without ever once smiling or laughing or speaking a word, so as to break the curse that's been placed on her older brothers. And in the stories, one can say that in the span of simply a sentence: six years passed, as simple as that.

But six years in life is something very different, isn't it? It would've been the end of my sixth year this August, and even after just five and a half, when I think back on all the memories I've had here in the City, and all the times I've smiled and laughed and spoken...it really makes it all the more wondrous, I think, to have that sort of appreciation of just how long that little princess was willing to hold out for the sake of her brothers, and how much she must've loved them, to take on such a challenge for their sakes.

And I always liked that story in particular because there was one brother that the princess saved--she did it by sewing shirts for them, you see, and then at the end of the six years she was to throw them over the swans and they'd change back into boys--whose shirt didn't have a sleeve on it yet, and so when he was changed back, he still had a wing in place of one arm. And yet even with that, I don't think the little princess loved him any less for it. I think...in a way, I even loved him a bit more than the others, because I don't think someone needs to be perfect to be worth loving, or to be loved.

But that's not the story that's been on my mind all day, really. The one I've been thinking of instead starts off a bit something a bit more like this:

Once upon a time there was a princess who was going to be sacrificed to a three-headed dragon.

In my family, in Daventry, we have a tradition--that anytime one of us goes on an adventure, the very first thing we're meant to do once we're home safely again is to sit down with our court chronicler, Gerwain, and retell the whole story, every bit of it that we can remember, so he can take it down and preserve it in the royal archives. I was seventeen years old, just shy of my eighteenth birthday, when I went up the stairs in the mountainside to the Land of the Clouds to be sacrificed to that dragon. And then when it was slain, we came home, Alexander and I, and my father took ill after his heart failed from the joy of seeing us both safe again. And then I was off on another adventure, this time to seek a magic fruit that could save his life, and I did find it and he was saved.

And then just as I was leaving his bedside after that, I fell into the Fountain, here. I hadn't slept in more than a day, and I was ever so terribly tired, and that was when the boy who would become my best friend, Sam, found me and took me to the Warehouse--the place I've called home all this time.

All this time, everything I've written in this device of mine, it's always been because I was expecting this day might come. I wanted to be sure I could remember as much of it as I could, because when I go home, the first thing I'm going to do is sit right down with Gerwain and tell him everything, as much as I can. All five and a half years of it, as far back as I can remember.

This story...this adventure...we'll all have it, then, in Daventry. Sam Witwicky and Sirius Black, Miss Saya and Blue and Ellington, too, Luke Skywalker and Legolas and Tamaki, Princess Rue and her Prince Mytho and Ahiru and Fakir, Kurama and Romeo and his Juliet, Blair and Bumblebee and Sam's friend Mikaela, too. Neil and Todd--the new knights of Daventry, now, Sir Neil and Sir Todd, and Penny, and Caspian and Peter and Susan and Lucy, and yes, even Edmund too. And Tristan, Yvaine, and Claire and Duo and Dean, Kazuki and Amory and Arthur and Cinna. They'll know Nigel and Dr. Chase, and Merry and Riff and Miss Megumi, and Ginny and Frankie and Justin and Euphie and Bucky and Steve, and Billy and Dave and Miss Carla and...

And...and I suppose we might even find room for a rather insufferable boy by the name of Cain Hargreaves, while we're at it, though I suppose it'll only be my half of things for the time being, and he can fill in his side of it once he arrives.

So if anyone should ask me, you know, to tell them my favorite fairy tale...I suppose I'll have to warn them that we might be there awhile, because the one I'm going to tell is the one of all of you, and the time we spent together here.

I still remember the moment, that five and a half years ago, when I really did come to believe in the story the boy who'd rescued me had told me, that he was the long-lost twin brother I'd never known I had. I remember he started to cry, and hugged me, and said, "It's so good to be home." And that...was when I believed him.

And you know, I...I think I'm glad to be going home, too? But that's only because I've learned that home isn't...a place, but the people you love. And some of them are there, in my kingdom, waiting for me, and so many of them have been here in this City. But as long as I remember them, and carry them with me in my heart...then really, no matter where I go, I'm always home, aren't I?

I'm going to miss all of you so very much, but I'm glad for it, too. Because you can't miss someone that you don't remember, and I'll never forget any of you.

"And they all lived happily ever after."

Yes. I'm certain that's how the end of this adventure goes, too.


[OOC: Action her up, backtag forever, do whatever you like. This post is 100% open for farewells, and thank you again, Poly, for so many years of wonderful memories. ♥]
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 04:29 pm
[Curt is standing in the square]

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go." Well, however you feel about me, I'm going now, so this is your last chance to say goodbye--or anything else. I'll miss this place and I'll miss the people, but maybe I'll see some of you again, somewhere across the universe. I'm not sure where I'm going, but have ax, will travel. I'm not ready to go home just yet. [He shrugs.] Keep rockin' City.
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 02:57 pm
[Voice Post]

Okay, so, I've been thinking about this a lot. The City's great! And, I didn't really get involved with the whole, you know, fighting thing? With the deities and the anonymous guys.

But the whole idea of leaving kinda makes me- well, I don't like it. Because, you know, I'm dead in my home world. Worlds, whatever. So, I paid attention to that, uh, whatever they were. There was another talking dog not like I haven't had enough of those- Anyway.

And, maybe another world wouldn't be so bad.

Not to say that I won't miss anyone back home, but most of the guys're dead too. And, City life's been really great! I've always said how great it was, but, well, maybe going to another world wouldn't be so bad if I had someone to go with? So.

Maybe I need some help deciding where that is.

[/Voice Post]

[OoC: Really busy lately, will backdate on this entry, and the flist, I swear! This is his tampered comment. And he will be going to his new home here: [community profile] rpisamuseing and it would be lovely if he had his friends join him.

But for now, he just wants someone to help him pick a door to go through, and someone to go through it with. ♥ Poly will be missed by characters and players alike.]
 
 
Current Mood: anxious
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 08:56 am
[ Todd is out in the square with Neil, later on in the day. They're not quite leaving just yet, so he takes just a moment to step away and write out, in very large letters, a bit of verse on the pavement with chalk, not at all far off from the doors. ]

Think not of that which lay behind you
Yet its meaning carry as you go
Think not of what you won't again see
But what awaits you do not yet know

I ask you simply; don't forget
Yet do not mourn the end
But as you find what waits you next
Smile, for you were once my friend

Todd Anderson


[ When he is finished, he turns his device on and broadcasts a video of the words, before turning the camera on himself. And he smiles, bittersweet and soft. ]

Thank you. For everything I never thought I could have.
 
 
[ Voice ]

[There's a moment of silence when the transmission starts; a slight tremor to Neil's first words. There are some things you can never quite be ready to say, no matter how long you prepare.

Goodbye, he thinks, is the worst.]


If we shadows--

[And he draws a sharp, unsteady breath.]

No, that's not it. I thought that was the right way to go, but. It's an ending-- a good ending, a hopeful ending, but I don't want to think of this like that. I still remember when I came here, the first people I spoke with, the first things I said, and maybe that's a better note to leave on.

[There's an awkwardly long pause, a rustle of paper (an old and familiar and well-loved book, the book in whose pages he first read these words), and then (in a clear voice, steady now and sure and impassioned:)]

Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset.

[Another pause, and a deep, even breath, hitting his stride.]

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.


[Another pause, and the gentle, dusty thump of a well-worn book being shut.]

I won't forget any of this. Five years I couldn't have imagined, and-- [His breath catches.]

I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'll miss it. All of you.

Thank you, City, for all of it.

[And so goodnight unto you all.]




[ooc; Neil and Todd will be in the Square today; they won't be going through a door until the absolute last moment this evening, in case anyone would rather do goodbyes in person. Feel free to threadjack as needed. Just wanted to get this up ;; It's been an honor and a pleasure.]
 
 
28 February 2014 @ 01:52 am
I'll miss the work. I came here thinking I knew medical mysteries, before I had to figure out the challenges inherent in getting an IV line into someone with impenetrable skin. Or deal with immortal cheerleaders who can't feel pain, work out the clinical uses of werewolf spit... have awkward conversations about swapping spit with werewolves... I'm going to miss the kind of place where your friends can magically appear in the living room to ask how you set the microwave and where it's occasionally necessary to check whether or not the pink hair's natural.

I reckon I'll even miss the curses. There aren't many places where you can tell yourself the horrors you're living through will be done in twenty-four hours.

I killed a man.

Back home, not long before the city took me in. It was a choice - my choice - he had the blood of half his nation on his hands already, and I was supposed to fix him up to go back and dip his hands in the rest. He was a small scale dictator in history's terms but letting him wipe out a whole race would cancel out every good thing I ever did.

So I... didn't fix him. I watched as he died and got my hands bloody. I thought

I still think I did the right thing. And I knew my own life might not make it through the other side quite the same as before.

So I showed up here without much to go back for. I avoided the people who used to care about me, and I made friends with the City's monsters because they helped me realise that monster's a badly defined term.

And a few of you stuck it out long enough to help me back over the line I crossed.

I haven't been settled this long in my life. Haven't made or lost this many friends. And when I go through my door tomorrow I know there's one of you I'm not planning to let go of, but anyone else without a place is welcome too. Plus there's this wedding I've got a bunch of spare invites to.

It's New Jersey. None of you need to worry about being too weird.



Private to Saya:

Sophie, you're going to need to choose one of the cars.

Private to House:

If I could tell you to change one thing in your life... I'd tell you there are some things you can't change. And that if you're ever tempted to hold a Survivor-style showdown to hire a new team, half the people you know are going to use that as a dating pool.

Private to Mae:

My address back home is on the last page of your Christmas present. Try the phone number sometime. I'd still like to buy you dinner. Or beat you at chess.

Private to Ginny:

If I were headed to war, I know who I'd want on my front lines. Take care of yourself while I can't. And remember, that kid with the scar? Food, music, sex. No man's above all three.

Private to Penny:

I've got two hands, I can not let go of you, too. But otherwise, tell me where you're going. I'm not walking through that door before I've seen you somewhere safe.

Private to Stiles:

I've put what we've done into a file you can take back with you if it might help. My numbers on there too: if it connects, just remember my condo doesn't allow dogs. Look after yourself.

Private to Eden.

Where are you going? If it's into a world of vampires I need to figure out which of you to worry about.

I'll miss you so much.

Private to Wilson:

If you want to come back with me and skip the next couple of years I wouldn't blame you. But I think the you I know now would choose to live them, no matter what. You'd be surprised what people can live with.

Look after her for me.

Private to Cameron:

Coffee?



[ooc: everything about killing Dibala is very lightly filtered from the House crew - meaning they can choose whether they see it or not. Thankyou, Poly, and goodnight.]
 
 
27 February 2014 @ 08:48 pm
It's so strange that we can finally go home...after all this time, we're going to leave...

It's weird. When I first came here, I wanted to go home, go back to my birthday and see the lights and live my dream, but now...now I've done so much, and met so many people and learned so many things...

...I don't want to lose that. I don't want to forget.

...but I think it's time for me and Pascal to go home. I'm not very good with goodbyes, but...everybody here, thank you for being my friend. I've loved living here, even with the curses and the strange happenings and the people leaving. It's been amazing!

But it's time to go and see the lights, I think.

I hope I still remember all of you...thank you.

[ooc: OPEN ACTION AND MINGLE POST. Thank you all so, so much for an amazing roleplaying experience. I LOVE YOU ALL AND WOULD HUG EVERY ONE OF YOU IF I COULD.]
 
 
27 February 2014 @ 12:53 pm
... I should've known it was too good to be true. But... I don't want to leave. T-they have no right to kick us out when they're the ones that dragged us here...! It's not fair!

[Yeah, he isn't happy about leaving everyone. He knows he should return home... return to Volgin but... he's tasted the spice of life and wants more.]

This.. this is stupid.

[He's trying to be more angry about it for the recording but... it's might be obvious to those who really know him that he's actually depressed. Raikov sits leaning over with his hands cover his face]

Why couldn't they have given us more time...? It's not fair. B... because I don't know what to do...

Action//Locked to Nathan )


[OOC: Polllyyyy. ;___; /grabby hands. I'm sorry for the angsty post. Raikov won't be going out much. He's too in denial of what's happening and is just shutting himself up in the mansion. Feel free to have your character harass him to come outside though. He srsly needs it.]
 
 
27 February 2014 @ 12:08 pm
[ VOICE ]

All things must end, good and bad alike, and I am of the opinion that there are very few things which are wholly one or the other.  

I've enjoyed my holiday here, all in all.  

Whether you've a mind to celebrate or to mourn, I invite you to stop by the Wolf's Den this evening.  As I can't take it with me, it seems fitting to clear the place out.  The effective end of the world seems an appropriate occasion for a party. 

Those who remain are welcome to fight over its bones, once I've gone.  



[ OPEN ACTION || MINGLE || PARTY AT THE END OF THE WORLD ]

[There are no decorations, there is not time for that, and really, that sort of frill has never been Isaak's style.  The place is lively, though; music is playing, people are mingling.  

The prospect of an open bar always brings people out of the woodwork, and really, who wants to be alone at a moment like this?]




[ooc: WHATEVER THE WORLD NEEDS MORE PARTY LOGS RIGHT?  This is a big ol' mingle, I'm turning off notifs but will give Isaak a thread below. Feel free to tag as you will for as long as you like to backdate last-minute party shenanigans. Whether you know Isaak or not. I WILL MISS YOU POLY.]