[ If you're one to frequent the Blue Light, there's a good chance you've been served by Amory Felix.

On a sight alone, he's a nondescript brunette, underweight and of medium stature, who goes about his job in a manner of quiet confidence. If you've never spoken to him before, you've probably heard whispers about him-- that he's been in the City for ages-- over three years, which in a town like this, might as well mean eternity; others say he's an asshole, and just by observing his behavior your impression of him may range from inscrutable to aloof to even unfriendly. Amory has never been the sort of bartender to go about making lively conversation in an effort to panhandle for tips. Beyond casual throw-a-way remarks, he hardly makes conversations with his customers. Instead, he'll make you a mean drink, maybe one of the best you've ever had: from old classics to on-the-spot concoctions. He wants to be unnoticeable, rather than to draw attention to the fact that he has been a bartender here as long as he has. You ask an eighteen year old Amory what he planned to do at twenty-five, and the last thing he'd say is bartending.

But on this night, it's hard not to notice Amory Felix thanks to a large vermilion bird perched on the bar. It's an odd looking bird, which almost makes you wonder if it's even a bird in the first place. Scarlet pinions covered with feathers in varying crimson hues sweep across the counter. She looks majestic and proud, and yet its feathers are ruffled in that way of distressed birds, the creature itself as spare as its owner.

Nevertheless, the bird stands there proudly as it surveys the bar with keen obsidian eyes that behold intelligence. She's large enough to fill up an entire section of the counter.

Amory is noticeably self- conscious about the creature, shooting it looks as he finishes up a lemon droop. ]

Can't you pick a less conspicuous place to stand?

[ Humor in her melodious tone, the bird snaps back. ]

No, I quite like it here. 

( You know we don't allow animals in the bar. )

Hello, network!

Today happens to be Ikki Minami’s seventeenth birthday! For any of you that might know him ( aside from Kira!! ヽ(ｏ`皿′ｏ)ﾉ ), please feel free to stop by Kogarasumaru's base and wish him a happy birthday!

[ He inserts directions to the base here. ]

(・∀・ ) There's plenty of cake to go around!!

[Filtered from Known DELILAH Members || Unhackable]
That, I daresay, was much more in keeping with what I'm accustomed to in the City.

For those who didn't see me--and I'll admit that I did keep off the Network for the weekend--I was a cat, once again. It doesn't even deserve mentioning anymore.

I suppose only in the City could I say that--that waking up to find myself turned into a cat causes me more annoyance than alarm--in fact, I'm really coming to expect this. I fairly know that, on some weekend, most every month, I will be a cat. I've really almost become accustomed to it. I shall go to bed on a Friday night and wake up on Saturday morning with whiskers and a tail.

Actually, it's been some time since I was last a cat and, having been a horse not so long before, I was rather glad to find myself in a shape with which I was more familiar. And now it sounds as though I've really gone mad. It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of such.

Still, in all these weekends as a cat, after a little adjustment and after Kassandra and Noir have seen to me and have me as well turned out as a cat ought to be, I've learned a bit from having woken up those whiskers and that tail so many times before. I can turn on and use my Network device, get myself out of my room, up across the roof, out the window, down to the kitchen, through secret passages, into the cupboards--nearly anywhere I could go as a human, and perhaps more places, given my smaller size. And, if need be, Riff can even carry me--

But that's enough of that. The weekend is quite over now and we've all assumed our usual situations again--more or less. I've heard tell from time to time of something lingering after one of those weekends. Fortunately, it usually isn't a tail. More likely, it's some misunderstanding. But that's the City's way again.

Rosella, I hope that you managed to endure these past few days without too much difficulty.

Now, what I'd like to know is what everyone else observed late last month with what may or may not have been happening with the Carousel and what that 'deity' truly meant by 'sacrifices'.

~C.
[//end filter]

[ooc: Sorry I wasn't around, but Cain was his cat-shaped self again. Because tradition. Feel free to say you saw him or had him cross your path and so on. Next month I'll actually do something with him. In the meantime: let's talk ponies, how about?]

[Lockdown does not look happy.]

Alright, where's the kid who brainwashed me over the weekend? I got a few choice words for ya'.

And my name's Lockdown. Not Lockdownmon, just Lockdown!

( Cut for spoilers for The Avengers )



[ ooc; Say hi to Agent Coulson. Replies will come after Bones and Roxas are done with him, all right? All right.

AND CAN I JUST SAY AGAIN HOW EXCITED I AM a;sdfk;ldks ]

You know, I used to think I was a pretty unlucky guy. Cursed back before I came here. Think the lack of curses now means the deities like me?

Though, Rita, you never gave me that autograph you promised me. Maybe I'm not so lucky after all.

[He laughs and then a giant Great Dane hops up on the couch with him and paces over his lap. He's one of those giant dogs who thinks he's a lap dog. He is not a lap dog, but Yuri laughs anyway, scritching him behind the ears.]

All right, all right. I'll take you out for a walk.

I got a question. What do the deities do around here, other than 'sacrifice' pony-people and otherwise strive to make our time here as shitty as possible?

[She had a brother. And the brother was a villain. And then she got into a fight with some dick-head kid. And then she didn't have a brother. And she remembers things about her brother that she did't know before and she's more than certain he knows a thing or two about her she didn't want anyone knowing around here. So many emotions. So much 'do not want' in one weekend.]