burnt_orangesky

First dream♦Second dream

♦

First memory♦Second memory♦Third memory♦Fourth memory♦Fifth memory

Am I doing something you don't agree with?

Have any suggestions, and know where I should stick 'em?

Just want to say 'Great job!'?

Want to post gratuitous spam?

But seriously, if you have an issue with anything I am doing, anything at all, post here. I promise not to get huffy about it, and take what crit you give seriously.
Flaming will, of course, be ignored, and though it might be unscreened if it is lulzy. Just saying.

Comments are screened, anon comments are a go, and IP logging should be off. My inbox always needs more love, so don't worry about that!


This is now a ( permissions post )

ALSO. If you want to get ahold of me and I'm not on AIM and you don't want to PM me for whatever reason, feel free to say something here. Plot ideas? Want to clear up an issue with my last post? Is my HTML actually FailTML? Let me know here!

If you are not in a game with me, I would like to respectfully ask you PM me or comment here if you wish to talk to me. Chances are I'll give you my AIM name if you ask politely.

[[ooc: Backdated to September 19, because I forgot to do this...]]

Two years. [Pen taps.]

It is strange; it does not seem that long a time, looking back at it now.

Fred frowned to herself as she got out the kettle. She had just come back from her morning run with Gai, and it was shaping up to be a windy day. That was better than rain, at least, but she wondered if she should take a pullover down to the Yard.

The white openings still bothered her, and she took the time to muse on them as she filled the kettle and set it on the stove. What could they be? A way out, or the way to another world? For all that Bridge had warned the Scavengers not to go through them, and the fact that nothing could be seen on the other side, she still wanted to know. She had held off, her curiosity tempered by the knowledge that if they were something dangerous, not only would her friends never forgive her for dying (again), but they would likely start following her everywhere. There were enough of them that they could just casually tag along wherever she went. Not to mention how sad another death would make all of them. She didn't want to put
them through that, anymore than she wanted babysitters.

With a sigh, she opened the cupboard where they kept the tea. For some reason, the box had been placed higher on the shelf than usual. Frowning once more, she pulled over a chair so she could reach it.

Hopping down again, she set the box on the counter as she replaced the chair. Walking back to the counter, she flipped open the lid of the box--and stopped, staring. Nestled in the box, still surrounded by the other tea bags, was something she hadn't seen in quite some time. The glowing crystal surrounded by rings of metal was as familiar as ever, though.

With trembling fingers, she picked it out of the box. Turning it over between her hands, she licked her lips, took a deep breath, and slid her fingers between the rings until the tip of her middle finger brushed up against the stone's cool surface, and plunged her into darkness.

( Memory )

***********

Fred came back to herself to hear the kettle shrieking. She removed it quickly, hoping it hadn't bothered 00 or Composer, then moved toward the table to sit. Her movements, however, were awkward and slow. She looked down--she appeared to have some sort of costume on, one that completely encased her entire body, with far more fabric than was really necessary. She turned awkwardly, and moved to sit on the couch.

What in Rassilon's name was she supposed to make of that?

[The writing is a touch messy and hastily done--someone's kind of annoyed.]

That man was most unpleasant. Whoever it is who is in charge of the journalmakers needs to have a talk with this fellow--he absolutely refused-- [Inksplatter where she pressed the pen into the page too hard, followed by a pause while she finds a new pen.] to answer any of my questions!

[A slight pause and then the writing resumes, more composedly now.]

I do hope I was not gone too terribly long. Is everyone alright?

I seem to have a number of small luminescent insects following me about, perhaps fifteen of them. They're actually quite pretty; if this is the latest thing the Tree is doing, at least it is interesting and not too terribly dangerous.

[Another slight pause.]

Key, I should like to speak with you at some point soon. I saw something [Pentap.]

-Fred

[[ooc: Backdated to the evening of 5/24, because I fail.]]

[A pen tap or so before she starts writing.]

If I might have a moment of your time. I have been told that my name is Fred, and [pause] a great many other things. Guy, Bell, and Spring have been most helpful in that respect.

However, I would greatly appreciate it if you would be so kind as to tell me via this medium if you happen to know me. That is all.

[A tiny hesitation.]

-Fred

[There are a few pentaps, and the pen rests on the page long enough to form a tiny pool of ink before Fred's writing starts.]

I do not think I shall ever get the sand completely out of my hair.

Has anything particularly interesting happened while I have been [another pentap or so] napping? And did everyone come through February alright? I confess I was somewhat preoccupied with an [pause] issue of my own, and was quite distracted toward the end.

[The writing is small, and very delicate, in modified all caps.]

DOES ANYONE HAPPEN TO KNOW IF THE BAZAAR CARRIES DOLL'S CLOTHING? MY NORMAL ATTIRE HARDLY SUITS MY CURRENT STATURE.

-FRED

[[ooc: replies will be made after I get back from work!]]

This place that the Wilderness has turned into. It is Gallifrey.

I shall remain here for some little time. Should you need to find me, I am in some caves within sight of the city, but not walking distance of it.

00, Composer--Aven is with me.

-Fred