Doors

[Locked to Jack C]
Are you there? Are you sane? Are you going to be arrested? Does the CIA man have you locked up? Is he gone? Is he coming back? Hi.

So, thanks. For helping me out. [...] And thank your hero-guy for me, too.


[Public]

And here I thought that the psychotic fairy paying me visits in my dreams was a sign that I should cut back on my regularly-scheduled liquid lunches. Glad to hear some of you are either just as crazy or just as habitually inebriated.

[ETA:] Oh yeah, and I owe [...] someone an apology. I mistook your ignorance of current rap icons for an early warning sign of imminent death and decided to get proactive with my CPR. Or, you know, fairy-land wine made me do it. Whoops.

[Comm to Stephanie Brown.]
[Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. After Muerte gets kicked through the door. When she answers there's faint underground noises.]

[Comm to Dylan M]
[Midweek, late evening, as promised, after this, and so unbelievably drunk. Notably, sans Matilda. Beep.] Report.

[call to wren m. h.]

[On the heels of this, as she's driving home from Adam's apartment. Ring, ring.]

[Her next time through the door, she tries manifesting again with the same human results. She manages to find a place that isn't nearly as nice as the flat in Wonder City, but that's at least safe, and the exhaustion pulls her into sleep. She never slept before, so she never dreamed. But being trapped in an almost-human body made her do things she never had before. The nightmare was full of green - all different shades - at least what she could remember of it. The bright of old Riddler costumes and the darker hunter Eddie'd taken up lately.

But more than that, there was the overlayment of the glowing green, the Laz Pit come to clinging, grasping life. In the dream, it wouldn't let go of her, wrapping around her ankles like the tentacles of a deep sea monster, pulling her down, down, into glowing depths where faces of those she'd failed to save looked at her, judged her. The green crawled down her throat, choking and consuming until she couldn't even scream, and then she woke with a gasp. She couldn't catch her breath and her entire body shook. Tears streamed down her face, and when she pulled her book close, they spilled onto the paper, fuzzing and blurring the ink that her trembling hand laid down. She was guilt and emotion and regret in those waking moments, not thinking about what she was saying at all. And her words were barely legible with the shake of her handwriting.]

[Eddie N]
It's too much. I've done too much. I can never undo it and it's all my fault. It'll pull me down one day and unmake me. And it will be for the best. Go away. Go away now.


[Steph B]
[Almost directly following her letter to Eddie - handwriting still shaky and unsteady.]

Stephanie,

I've seen an infinite number of people who knew their deaths were coming, try to make amends for things they'd done in their life. To have one last confession or kiss or make one last phone call or write one last letter. And I understood it, but I never really got it until now.

I can blame everything on the way people's lack of fear was affecting me. And really, that's a good part of it, because goodness knows I would never have kissed Eddie otherwise. And I can blame the lack of fear for the reason I tortured you (and Crane), because again, I wouldn't have done it otherwise. But I realize that's small comfort. So I'll tell you I regret it the way I don't regret anything else, and I hope that will be enough to help settle your mind. I'll also tell you that Eddie loves you more than anything. He was nearly gone recently, and he was thinking of you. Maybe you don't understand how big that is, but I hope you'll trust that it means a lot.

If you were looking for revenge, for some sort of justice, you more than have it. Hence the need for the letter. I only ask that you take care of the people you know, most especially you and your sweetheart, but everyone else you can too, if possible.

If I don't see you around before I'm gone, good luck.

-DeaMuerte

Sigh

Is there anyone on the other side of the doors from a place called Ebon Askavi? Or Kaeleer in general? Or [...] Hell? Or anywhere near those places? I've got a very pushy man in my head who is looking for his family. And he is now telling me not to make him sound pushy. Okay, I take it back he's not pushy. (He's totally pushy)

And since I'm here I should probably tell everyone who knows me - and apparently all you lovely people who don't (don't care, big day!) - I had a baby this morning. And now I can't sit still. She's kind of perfect. And squishy. Not unlike her mother. HA.

Bacon time.

[After getting back out of Passages, Lin decides to do a check-in on parties still MIA.]

( Text to Aubrey R )

( Text to Winnie O )

( Text to Thea W )

A few days after he's calmed down from this: [Locked to March H]
March? Are you okay? Where are you?

[Locked to October F]
[In which Jan thinks he's crossed everything out, and has not.]
Do you I tried to vi To

[As Daemon S]

A paper journal that talks back. Mother Night, can this place get any more messed up?

[Batfam, et al - from Bludhaven after surveying the outskirts of Gotham City for a bit]

Anyone want to fill me in? Been in Vegas. Damian?

[Moderately drunk, as usual.]

Who are we waving our pitchforks at now? I want to make sure I'm keeping up with the mob.