[The video begins when the device is dropped, skittering away into the leaves. Standing above, with her hand braced against the rough bark of a tree, Anna drops to the ground not long after, hitting heavily on her knees with a sob. She's disheveled, hair lank and draped with a few delicate strands of what might be spider-silk, a web crashed into on her way through the woods, bright against her black hair. There's a little blood staining the shoulder of her shirt, but not much.

She has a knife clutched in one hand. When she hears the rustling of a squirrel waking for the morning, she all but screams, scrabbling back until her shoulder hits the tree trunk and that knife is ripped through the air ferociously. But she's still crying, still panicked,]

Please. I'm sorry--

[[ooc; It's been a while since we had an 'Anna Weeping Inconsolably' post... so here's one of those. She was picked up and scheduled for snackage by a certain spider. She has narrowly escaped while forgetting that she's not supposed to watch the sunrise and is now weeping for your viewing pleasure while totally blinded. I have no plans, first come first serve, but I don't mind fish-bowling, personally.]]

[Rapunzel is staring, rather intently, at a pair of purple high heels, as if she's not sure what to do with them. Because, honestly, she's not.]

Well, I can't just throw you away, that'd be sort of a waste...but you're waaay too uncomfortable to ever voluntarily use as shoes again...

So. What to do with you...

[She sighs, staring at the shoes again for a minute or two, before inspiration strikes.]

I've got it!

[She grins, grabbing the shoes and putting them on the windowsill, before taking off for the door.]

Don't you go anywhere, shoes! I need to get dirt and some sort of plant, still not sure what kind, though, but I'll be right back!

[And boom, she's off.]

Mm. It's August 2nd again, isn't it.

Thinking back on it, I remember I first started this journal because we have a certain tradition in my family, that every time one of us goes on a grand adventure, the first thing we do once we've gotten back and hugged everyone and all that is to sit right down with the court chronicler and tell the whole story as clearly as we can remember it, so he can take it down and save it with the other tales of adventure in our library. And everything was so new to me then, and there was so much to see, that I thought I'd better write it all down as I went along, or I'd never be able to remember it all once I finally did get home. Looking back on it now, I'm rather glad I did; back then, I had no idea I'd be away for years, instead of weeks or even months. And I'm sure I wouldn't remember nearly so much of it as I ought to if I didn't have this journal to remind me.

But there is a story I'll never forget, and it's the one I tell every year on August 2nd: the one about the princess with the six brothers that were turned into swans, and how she spent six years in silence sewing shirts for them out of thistles, because the only way to break the curse was to go the whole time without ever smiling or laughing as she worked to make the shirts that would change them back. And every year I think of that princess, and how long of a time six years really is--it's only a few lines in a story, but living it out is something very different entirely, isn't it? I certainly don't think I could've managed it myself.

After all, just four years already seems like a terribly long time, and that's with being able to smile and laugh and speak with my friends every day.

I do wonder sometimes, on August 2nd, what I'll do if I manage to run out six years, just the same as that princess with her swan brothers did. I'm more than halfway to it, now. What story will I tell on my anniversary if I should finally outlast her with my own time in the City?

Though I suppose by that point, perhaps, I could always start retelling a few of my own, instead.


[OOC: And with August 2nd comes Rosella's Polyversary--today marks four years she's been in the City, and I am still baffled by it. Thank you all for all the wonderful years of gameplay, Polyites! I'm hoping for many more still to come. ♥]

[There's no sound on the device, save for the sounds of this playing in the background. And Mindy doing running commentary.]

Jesus, that girl's talkative. Like, really, really talkative. She doesn't even give Carl a chance to say anything.

[Pausing pausing and the sound of Mindy munching on something and then laughter when Carl reacts to pages being taken out of a library book.]

Holy shit. That kid's ten and he's already a push-over. [Another pause and then more laughter.] Why did they dress like it was a funeral? For fucks sake, smile, people! It's a damn wedding!

[And then she's quiet.]

Whoa. Hey. Hey, hang on. Wait just a fucking minute. [Nope. She's not liking what she's seeing.] Why the fuck is something like that in a kids movie?

[She's goes quiet again. And remains quiet for the remainder of the opening scenes, at one point going 'oh, no' but other than that, she's not saying a word. And then the movie goes quiet. She's paused it.]

This can't be a kids movie. What did I just watch?

[and the feed ends.]

Dear Network, I have two questions for you. Answering them won't take long, I promise.

[ since Spitfire lost his ability to walk in a trade he's gotta find other ways to amuse himself while he can't run. (for a month!! ack.) making stupid posts on the network will be one of them. ]

First: when did you last have a haircut? Was it ten years ago? I can tell. Some of you could really use one.

[ this is where he somewhat chuckles to himself. ]

As for the second one... if someone asks you out to do stuff, it's a date, right?