Doors

What good is a kingdom without a true king? For that matter, any king at all?

This world is a strange one. A world where death is reversible, and history too? Impossible, and yet -

Strange, indeed.

Want to trade one blank cheque for key to DC door.

[Text to Bailey]
I appreciate if you don't give my number to random people.

[After this, from an unknown number.]

[attached is an extremely compromising photo of Bailey, a man, and Alexis, everyone with their eyes on the camera.]

in soviet russia, porn watches you.

[The entry is written in a careful, elegant hand, darkly inked.]

It appears much has changed since I was last on Pyke. But, then much is as it was. The sea is coloured from the selfsame palette as my childhood, but it is colder now & more desolate. It continues its relentless thrashing & endless roiling, pursuing still its dream of reclaiming the rock and fortress upon & in which I sit, & yet I've seen only a mere handful of ships dotting the water's surface, no matter the direction I've looked. The Iron Islands have never been never heavily populated, I know, but the Bloody Keep, & indeed most of Pyke, seem to house no one of note but myself. Where has everyone gone?

(( GoT/ASoIaF spoiler alert. ))

I had heard once that what is dead may never die, but I am starting to tire of seeing dogs and squids come back to life.

Now why would Ramsay Bolton keep you alive, Theon Greyjoy?

After the last memory fades
[Text: Nikolai/Bailey]

Your dad seemed nice.

[Right after.]

Come back to bed? I'm not going to Passages today.

I will not taunt the mob
I will not taunt the mob
I will not taunt the mob


The patrons of the Wynn can sleep soundly again, now that I've returned to my post. It's remarkable how much havoc the common cold can wreak on the human body.

[Stupidly public]

Iris.

Irriss I need a pick up. I lost so much

so much money

This place is not normal. I don't know what to do about this voice, but it's driving me mad. He says to use a key. I don't know where it goes, and I don't like following his directions. Who are these people and how do they go away?

[Locked: Bailey T/Jonah K]

You're not invited to my birthday party.  Go play somewhere else.

[Text: Nikolai S/Bailey T]

You really didn't have to throw me a huge party, but it's awesome and I'm really excited.  Can we start celebrating at midnight?

[Some billionaire who apparently lives at the Wynn is throwing a ridiculously extravagant birthday party in the hotel on the 23rd of June, starting from 11am. It's all over social networking sites and it's big enough that most if not all of Las Vegas would have at least heard it from someone who might have heard it from someone else. All the available pools, nightclubs and restaurants have been booked, all the food and drinks are on the house, everyone and anyone is invited, and don't worry about the dress code - clothing is optional.]

[Voicemail left for Ezra]
"Ezra, is Nikolai. Sisterfucker in head told me that bird pimp in your head did stupid thing. If you are still alive, call me back. If you are dead, can I have your Aston Martin?"

[Private: Jaime L/Tyrion L]
[The writing is a terrible scrawl, scribbled out in haste with a hand he had never learned to write with. It takes no small effort to not let dyslexia destroy the coherency of his words amidst the frustration of not having a mobile phone like everyone does in Vegas.]

Tyrion you must leave King's Landing at once. It doesn't matter if the rumours are false. In the future you will be ac [This lingers on the page before he draws a line through the words.]

I can open you a door to Pennytree but you are safer back in Casterly Rock.

[Locked: Jaime L/Eddard S]

I would ask that you take care of what you share with others about your identity on the other side of the door.

I don't understand this place. It is wealthy, but it is full of complete filth. It's so bloody hot out, and someone was nearly sick all over me. I need a shower.

I see the animal farm has gotten bigger.


(( SPOILER ALERT for GoT fans who haven't read the books. ))

Rather than wax poetic about my personal life or engage in mindless small talk in a journal which, by proper logic and sense, should not be capable of allowing mass communication, a question that can only be answered by those of you in a similar circumstance: do you all feel some sort of other presence, or separate voice? Conversely, has anyone felt or heard nothing, and would believe themselves unaffected save for the existence of a journal and key?

[Locked: Jules S/Bailey T]

It's gotten worse. How much of a bad idea would it be to tell someone from her door that she's not limited to Gotham?

[Note left for Nikolai next to his pillow.]

At work for a double shift. I might be late tonight.

Love you

[It had been a very long time since he had last been that scared. It wasn't every day you'd wake up to see the woman sleeping next to you standing there, bringing a knife down dangerously close to your chest.

It had also awakened the alter in his head. It was the first time they had actually interacted properly. Jaime was adamant that she was crazier than Cersei - who's Cersei? - and he should leave her. He might not be so lucky next time. But how could he leave her? What kind of a man leaves someone at a time when they were most in need?

The kind of man residing in his head, apparently.]

[Call to Bailey]
...