mythopoeics

[He is not feeling emotional despite the mild curiosity and, therefore, typing can happen. A great blessing indeed. He's very tired of the random objects piling up. At least Fiona seemed to be happy with them, though.

But a filtered post to his brother is needed and he gets down to it.]

[Filter: Hypnos]

While I'm not turning things into other things, a moment of your time, brother?

Well, things could be going better. But it's not that frequent, at least for me. Do have an abundant amount of papayas, though. If someone wants some, tell me. It's a bit...silly.

But are most of us doing alright?

Good thing about working in a pub? They think it's all bar tricks.

Until someone spits out a frog.


[filter; arthur]
I think the time it's about time we talked.

[filter; galahad]
Want to do something with your old man one of these days? Horseback riding is probably out of the question until this bullshit clears up but I'd like to spend some father-son time with you.

[filter; gwynevere]
Still like archery?

[It should be no surprise that someone as emotionally unstable and immature as Syrinx was having trouble with this. She kept shrieking out, gasping and crying whenever something in her hands changed shape. The latest was a glass of milk that ended up becoming a glass of red acrylic paint which she'd dropped.

The shattering glass had caused her to jump and flee the scene in tears. Not that she thought Aeneas would be mad at her, but because she didn't like this. She didn't know what to do with this. She just wanted it to be over.]

[her voice is soft, broken]

Please let it stop, let it stop, let it stop.

[Though not an overly emotional person by any means, Calliope had her own share of rampant feelings. Touching her piano always brought upon thoughts of both sorrow and joy, sorrow for the memory of who had purchased her the piano, but joy for what magnificent sounds came out of it. Joy for music.

First it had been the keys. Before being aware that anything had happened to any of her fellow reincarnates, she'd poured herself a glass of wine and perched at the piano for only Zeus knew how long. And when the keys had turned into chocolate wafers, well, that certainly hadn't been expected.

But it the wine glass transforming into a dove that shocked her the most. From liquid to solid? Bizarre. More bizarre than wafers. The poor thing's off-white feathers were stroked before a window was opened and the dove urged to fly off.

When her window sill began growing flowers from her touch, she thought it was best to keep all touching to a bare minimum.]

Some of you will be thrilled to know I got an A on my paper. My teacher said it was well-researched and made him feel like he was actually there, so thank you brilliant sources. He also seemed to appreciate the banana that my phone turned into when he nearly caught me texting in class. I don't feel at all bad that I watched him eat it just because I was curious as to how it would taste. Would it have a slightly metallic aftertaste? The world may never know.

By the way uncle, I need you to take me by the Verizon store tomorrow so I can get a new one, since without my phone I just might succumb to a terrible depression that could only be cured by getting me an adorable puppy. I am nothing if not persistent.

I really would like to know why stuff keeps turning into bananas, or in one rare case my flash cards for algebra turned into playing cards, but whatever. So long as it doesn't bring down my GPA.