Out of curiosity, how many of you can actually understand some Norwegian? Does it all sound like gibberish to you, or have some of you caught on to the language over the years?

[ filter; lachlan ]
Thanks for letting me steal the foot of your bed at night. I can't do my own bed right now. Not alone.

And I can't ask you to cuddle me at night because our platonic friendship will get super weird. Does it weird you out? Are you just being polite with me because you're that kind of guy but you actually wish I'd fuck off and sleep in my own bed? How far does our friendship go that you'd let your shifting roommate press up against you because he just wants to know you're there and alive and not going anywhere because he's too fucking dumb to protect his own sister from being killed?

You're a good friend, and I'm just the creepiest roommate ever.

[FILTER : PRIVATE]
What is with this place? Have I in the last couple of years become a magnet for people related to people from my illustrious past? Ha, illustrious. Too bad they're all too dead to spread my glory. Except for a few cretins. Damn it. It figures that suddenly everyone shows up and I'm on an Academy campus surrounded by people who know djinn and could probably arrest me at any turn. Maybe Kieran would cry and they'd let me go for her. [...] Ugh. Anyway. The Abendroth chick wasn't a big deal. I don't even know if I remember which ancestor of hers-- or I just can't be bothered to remember. The Kálmán girl, though. She doesn't have a clue. Probably doesn't even know how they died at all. Big eyes and a soft face and I can't decide if I want to tell her and count her tears or merely talk to her and enjoy my little secret. And then there's Baker. A common enough last name, but -- I can't help but suspect. A bell rang inside of me at his name. It's a wonder I haven't been turned in and slapped away in a bottle of a more permanent kind, with all these people floating around. I suppose there's no proof, and Kieran would vouch for me. The human ability to block out one's own memory is a fascinating and entirely useful one. Useful for me, that is.

Liam, however. Liam needs to be taken care of. As does Barclays, wherever she is. Maybe I could make it look like they killed each other. I would have to wrangle permission out of Kieran much more subtly than let me go murder two of my former owners, though. Ugh. Owners. Masters. They come in all sorts of packages and flavors from cruel and powerful to pathetic and little but they're all the same, without thought or care as to whether or not we want to be under their thumbs, regardless of how kindly they might treat us. No one ever thinks to enslave a FUCKING ANGEL.

[FILTER : PUBLIC]
I'm pretty sure we're all supposed to be on the same side here, so if your particular amulet is one that is going to start burning my skin when you get close to me, I would really appreciate a heads-up, thanks.