| Accidental video/open |
[04 Jun 2016|03:02am] |
[Lydia doesn't mean to turn on the communicator when she grabs it from the bed and carefully tries to make her way through the door of her room again. She presses her palms against the invisible barrier on the doorway and gasps as she drops the communicator.]
Stiles? [She calls once, her voice shaking, so she takes a deep breath and calls out his name again. This time her voice is louder, but still filled with fear.]
Please tell me you can hear me... [she adds quietly a moment later.] I can't do this again.
[Emissary Stileses]
I'm assuming both of you noticed what's happening by now. My Stiles seems to think some kind of magic user did this. Do either of you have any theories?
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[04 Jun 2016|07:11pm] |
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[Henley is walking along the sidewalk, looking utterly confused. Finally, she comes to a tablet that's just laying there. She picks it up and stares into the camera. It occurs to her that this might be more bullshit related to The Eye, so she does her best to keep her cool. She wrinkles her eyebrows and looks at the thing curiously.] Hello?
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| Brelix Spam |
[04 Jun 2016|11:06pm] |
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[Felix walks into the room holding a tall glass of thick green liquid. It smells much better than it looks, almost fruity. He holds it out to Brad with a smile.] I hear nutrition is much more important when you're battling cancer. I made you a kale-banana smoothie. Threw in an apple and a pear for good measure. No worries, love, I tried it. It's officially not disgusting.
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| Glader House spam (multiples fine!) |
[04 Jun 2016|11:34pm] |
[He's been stuck in this room for at least...Pause. Counts. thirty-seven hours. Newt is still not entirely sure what's going on, but it hasn't really changed much since he was usually in here anyway. Especially recently.
He's bored, though, and sighs as he lays in bed, with barely ten minutes to midnight and runs over his face.]
Fuck. [He mutters, jerking up to a sitting position. Everything is pins and needles and he's kind of dizzy, but he pushes himself to his feet anyway. Not that he knows what the hell he's going to do.
Well, he could stand to clean the room, probably.
So, that's what he does. Slowly and meticulously, because if he focused on putting things in certain places, he didn't have to pay so much mind to the way his head felt like it might explode. A single, bitter chuckle escapes him at the thought. That is sort of what happened at the end, wasn't it? He shake his head and tosses whether is in his hand and lets it clatter to the floor.]
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