AEFENGLOM INBOX [IC]

[faithlikeaseed]

Comments

after Myr leaves the horror door in Dorcht

[futhark]

｢ ooc: look what I got from the mods 👀 ｣

[ Tracking the Enchantment around the city Wall's very quickly had led Caster back to the Coven, and soon enough managed to pinpoint it to—

—one door. Obviously he couldn't watch it for long without being too suspicious, but imagine, imagine his surprise when he sees no one else but Myr leave it.

Shit.

He has to stop himself from running right up to him because now that would be suspicious, but he leaves Coven quickly and calls him as soon as he can. ]

Myr. It's Caster. Are you alright? Can we meet somewhere?

YEEEAH LET'S DO THIS

[faithlikeaseed]

[Caster might've seen Myr carted off by Everett, if he'd stuck around long--the diplomat plainly distressed and not at all shy about informing the Coven's Witches that locking a sufferer's Bonded out of the infirmary simply would not fly--

Myr, meanwhile, wasn't in much of a state to do any talking himself.

He still sounds a little foggy over the watches, like he's been woken from a nap.]

Caster--? 'm fine, I think. Arm still hurts, [because he doesn't...quite solidly remember what happened beyond the door, and assumes this is about the bite,] but it's doing better.

...Yeah, we can. Got somewhere in mind?

[Backdated to Oct 15; L's house]

[onamissile]

[Mello's been pacing for going on an hour now; situations where he can do almost nothing to help are few and far-between, and this is L on the line. L. The man who had kept him going even after he'd died, the man whose image is burned into Mello's mind as both a hero and bleeding idol.]

[The stress and anger are visible on his features; his skin is paler than usual from a lack of eating and sleep. Regardless of what he's been told, Mello doesn't believe for a second that anyone present has L's best interest in mind. He's valuable; why else would they all be so determined to help him?]

Oi.

[He has to take it out on someone, doesn't he? Everyone, optimally.]

They're not fixing him; everyone keeps saying that they're trying to fucking help and he's still out.

[He glances anxiously to where L sleeps. He looks positively dead, and it's doing Mello's head in, in ways no one here can possibly understand.]

[No, he doesn't recognize you, and it doesn't matter. Because everyone is here to do something about it, aren't they? Which makes Myr both a potential asset and a suspect. Mello's eyes are fire; his posture is tense and ready to burn this place down with everyone in it if this situation isn't resolved soon.]

[Helplessness has never suited him. And it shows.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Where a Witch was almost useless, a Faun--a blind Faun, at that--might fairly be even more so, yet that hasn't kept Myr from Linden's bedside. There are menial tasks even he can do to care for someone comatose; there are innumerable little items of upkeep a house needs that Adeline can't be expected to do all by herself. (He has not yet asked why she's here or what she knows or whether she's been charmed. It doesn't seem the moment for it.)

And, when the allure of mere busyness grows thin, there is prayer. He has his antlered head down now even as Mello interrupts, his interlaced fingers folded beneath his chin. Focused on invoking the Maker as he is, he--

--is still painfully attuned to the smallest sounds in the world around him, because any of them might mean Linden's waking up (or getting worse). He breathes out slowly, not letting himself be chivvied along to that final word with his Creator; it takes him a solid thirty seconds more to lift his head and respond,]

There's only so far healing magic can push things. Hurt as bad as he was, we ought to expect he'll be under longer as he mends. Waking him won't hasten the process.

[Even if Myr very dearly wishes Linden would wake, and speak, and prove his marvelous mind had taken no permanent hurt.

He simply has to hope that's in the offing, else despair will eat him hollower with every hour that ticks by without Linden stirring. Those who didn't awaken after so long often couldn't... ]

I'd suspect it's the same anywhere--or do you come from somewhere they can awaken the unconscious in hours?

[Too well he understands how helplessness can gnaw, and whether or not he likes this fellow, he can sympathize and play distraction.]

Modranicht gift

[thejoyrider]

[The package left on his doorstep contains a plate of homemade cookies from Marie and a fresh lily flower.

“Happy Holidays! We are not friends yet but I hope we can become friends in the coming year.” is what the attached note says]

12/25

[weirdnecro]

[Why look, Myr got a gift! It looks like he got little slippers for his hooves to wear indoors, as well as a note. When his fingers press on it, it speaks out loud.]

"I thought about getting you a new stick, but your old one works just fine. Happy Holidays Myr.

Let's try not get in too much trouble in the new year huh?

Signed, Sokie Undertown."

[Should he keep pressing it, the voice will repeat the message.]

Early March

[rollfordiplomacy]

Did you leave early from the shop, my darling? I'm tied up a while longer. My sincerest apologies.

[he's not actually sorry, this is quite deliberate, but he will be polite about it]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Myr's at home when the message comes through, tinkering with yet another round of libum to see if he can get the recipe to his satisfaction (and, hopefully, Everett's). He dusts flour off his hands, picks up the watch...

And frowns most severely.]

Oh no, you do not, [he says to himself. Dealing with L's constant need to hide parts of himself away was one thing, but Everett getting increasingly dodgy about their repeatedly rescheduled dinner dates is quite another.

He doesn't respond to the message, instead packing a basket with libum and honey and boiled eggs--and, on a whim, a bottle of fruit brandy as well. Then he's off for DiplomaTea like a man on a mission, and is in short order shouldering his way in the door with a merry jingle of bells.

His approach probably feels like the arrival of a small and very miffed star through their Bond.]

Cavern Dream

[hearthebell]

[The perpetual subterranean night is soothing to L's over-dilated eyes, and naturally occurring glints and glows among the rocks and creatures are no more glaring than distant stars. For the first time in recent memory, he's not preoccupied with Niles' stalking or Mello and all that associated heartache. He could spend hours here, or days, and let the earthy damp air sweeten the process of breathing until it comes easily to him again. He's dealt with worse beds than the soft moss in places, more distressing bedfellows than the soft velvety worms who seem peacefully ignorant of his quiet, observant presence.

Perhaps he should be afraid, in spite of the fact that he knows this to be a dream, for their sheer size and power. But he can wait, and observe a little longer, and maybe settle in to lose himself in thought. His slender white-clad form blending easily into its surroundings, cast in the same soft blue glow as the surrounding rocks and tufted flora.

He's easy to miss. It's almost inevitable, unless one has very sharp eyes... or happens to be Bonded to him, perhaps.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[And in dreams, Myr has both things in his possession: A fallow deer's eyesight is nigh on a falcon's, and the vibrant thread of their Bond is--if anything--stronger in a realm where physical distances are often mutable and strange.

The Faun was fascinated with the giant worms himself; the nearest he could analogize to anything seen on Thedas was the humble caterpillar, but those were never ever so large nor so beautifully colored. Nor, Myr suspects, quite so gently placid in their thoughts. It's this beauty--inner and outer--that's made him linger after other dreamers from Aefenglom have continued across the lake; it is soothing beyond measure to lose himself in befriending the beasts, to wander with them as they traverse their feeding grounds.

It's soothing, also, to know both his Bonded are rejoicing in different ways at this dream, wherever they are; the knowledge sets Myr's anxiety at rest, keeps him from any urgency in seeking them out. Though as the perambulations of the worm-herd he's following brings them close to one of those bright spots in Myr's heart, he breaks away from them to follow the thread of his Bond. A click of hooves on stone announces his approach well before he's settling down beside L, legs tucked under him in a way that seems patently uncomfortable.

He doesn't say anything, yet, content to just be in the same space.]

Voice Message

[cyclopticsadist]

Keep your trap shut. Snitching won't save him.

[faithlikeaseed]

[Flat,] Nor will standing idly by.

[So, no.]

Sometime after the Faun Party

[petcromancer]

[Hector is still learning how to be social. What had seemed like a fine idea when he'd been falling down drunk is harder to see through in sobriety.

Hector's stalled for a few days, but Myr was kind enough to send him a jar of honey and a repeat of the invitation, and that was harder to put off.

So here he is, at the door of the cottage Myr lives in, with a tin full of little diamond-cut baklava in hand as a handy excuse for why he's come if Myr is busy, or has company, or just doesn't want to see him.

He raises a hand and knocks.]

[faithlikeaseed]

Coming!

[Truth be told, Myr hadn't been entirely sure how to approach Hector himself.

He wasn't--precisely--embarrassed about that night; that would imply he'd been somehow untrue to himself in his attentions to the other Faun, and he wasn't that. He'd meant everything he'd said, just...been a lot touchier about it than he'd ever have been sober.

He doesn't like feeling out of control that way, nor being reminded of it, but he'd promised and Hector had been so sweet and hopeful...

The honey had been a kind of stopgap while Myr worked out the rest of what he'd do, but now his hand's been forced--not that he'll know it until he's opened the door and Hector's said something to make himself known.

And open the door Myr does.]

Can I help you, serah? Caster and Archer are out at the moment, if you're looking for them.

for Simon, backdated to April;

[faithlikeaseed]

This isn't a dream: It's a memory.

A dream is mutable if one has the will for it; even nightmares might be rewritten with sufficient volition. Where only the Somniari might wrest the Fade on Thedas, Talam's dreamworld is easier to grasp, and the little crippled dreams that lived solely in the dreamer's own mind were easier still. Dreams could be rewritten.

But this isn't a dream; it's a memory, and nothing in Myr's power will let him undo the past.

Even that certain knowledge hasn't stopped him from trying, sweating and struggling under the punishing desert sun to lever rubble off the trapped mages beneath, abrading his hoary fingertips to bleeding in the crooked shadow of Hasmal Circle's damaged tower. His friends are down there, he knows; his family (herd) is down there, though they have long since fallen silent, and still he digs.

Nothing else lives or breathes on the untidy pile of broken stone. This memory has long since run its course, the past-echo of Myr collapsed somewhere from exhaustion and despair. The sun has not even continued its descent where it sits fat and lambent on the far horizon.

None of the lines are right, none of the edges sharp. This is nothing he had seen, the scree-slope of the shattered tower reconstructed from imagination and touch. There are lacunae in the scene, soft-edged black voids gaping wide where he had neither heard nor touched anything in the past.

It is stomach-churning to look at. It is a reminder of what he had done to himself. He does not look; he digs, expression slack of anything but a faint despair.

Nothing he is doing matters. You cannot change a memory.

But it hasn't stopped him yet.

[silverhands]

He doesn't understand the mirrors well enough yet to know whether it's a dream, a memory, a hypothetical, a present reality, or anything in between. He'd only been looking for a way home.

But like everything about this elf so far, the way he reminds Simon of home is very, very much a double-edged sword. If before he had been blooming with life and good humor and the kind of magic that would be at home in the Emerald Dream, this, then, is the Dream's horrible mirror, and he dodges one of those hungry fuzzy-edged voids the way he would any manifestation of the Nightmare. It doesn't occur to him that they're merely a reflection of Myr's blindness.

He doesn't know where these ruins are supposed to be, or how he got here, or what they mean to his new elven friend. But he knows, somehow, with soul-deep certainty that wrenches at his stomach, that the digging is futile. There's nobody alive under that debris.

"Myr--" His voice is gentle, apprehensive.

Early June - Voice

[whomthebelltolls]

[Bet this is a voice he never expected to leave a message for him.]

I've heard word that you're something of an apiarist. Might that information hold true?

[faithlikeaseed]

[He hadn't expected to hear from her, but the unexpected's something of a blessing right now.]

Lady Maria! You've heard the right of it--I keep a hive or two. D'you need help with something?

Text!

[proudofme]

Hey, you were the one giving that talk at the Coven recently, right? Talking about healing plants? I'm one of those mirrorbound witch types, wanted to talk to you about that more.

lo, a boy approacheth! text, typos intentional;

[faithlikeaseed]

That was me I'd

Be glad to talk more about it. Do you mind using voice?

[text]

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles is rattled when he gets home, so it takes him a bit to stare at his watch and figure out what to say. He had to say something. He'd been trying to keep this thing at a simmer, but that ship had sailed.

Well. Start simple, he's not 100% sure how much Myr even knows. Most vital point first.]

It was an accident.

[faithlikeaseed]

[Myr's reply isn't instant--there's tasks he needs to finish at DiplomaTea before he can disengage to check his watch, and he's not in the habit of listening for it when he's on the job anyhow.

...And then he has to take a moment to integrate exactly who has sent the message, a sinking feeling curdling in the pit of his stomach as he hears the watch read off the sender's alias.

(He'd suspected, oh, but hadn't been sure until now. Whatever's resurrected Niles must be dire indeed, and Myr already has an inkling he knows what it is.)]

What

was an accident.

action, dated to sometime earlier in september

[bloodwit]

[ well. this evening's the evening.

it's finally the designated hour at their workplace, and viren feels a fluttering of nervousness. naturally, as he forewarned, he's dressed well - his best to honor the occasion. also as promised, he holds a small, carefully wrapped gift. when he spies the back of myr's blond head (not the first time during their workday, but it feels differently now), he approaches and then stops, hands clasping to hold the gift at the small of his back like he's at attention. ... not out of any attempt to hide it, of course, because of evident reasons.

there's a smile in his voice, ]

Myr?

the boys are bondiiiing

[faithlikeaseed]

[This evening's the evening, and Myr's been waiting all day for it to arrive.

He has--of course--the promised bells on; they jingle brightly in his antlers as he turns toward the sound of Viren's voice, ears lifted. His own best robes, in crimson and gold and subtle foliage patterns, have got nothing on the brilliance of the smile he's wearing.

It's time. It's finally time.]

Viren. Shall we away to the Coven?

After Faun's Night Out, by. A day or two; I'm impatient. Audio!

[fuelingfire]

I wonder if this device leaves messages..? If you've the time and interest, I would know more about the being you call God.

HENLO AGAIN

[faithlikeaseed]

[It takes Myr a little while to answer this one--implying the watch does, indeed, take messages!]

I've both in ample supply, messere, if you don't mind the sounds of gardening as a backdrop. [There's a certain rueful amusement in the Faun's voice...and the sound of a pair of shears snipping away.] Made myself a very large mess to clean up.

Where would you like me to begin?

modranicht gift!

[fulgency]

[Depending on preference, Ozymandias gifts his fellow Council members with either a coffee or tea sampler from the Purramid Café for Modranicht. Regardless of which sampler is received, it is fairly sizable and offers around 40 cups worth across all the blends included. The note that is included while not necessarily personalized is sincere in its expressed intent for more good works and successes to be celebrated by the Council.]

pretend i actually posted this on time, and that december did not delete me entirely from existence

[faithlikeaseed]

[Within the day, a Puca courier arrives with Myr's response to Ozymandias' gift: A bottle of mead, a bag of homemade honey candy, and a slice of preserved honeycomb. There is also a fine knob of gold sealing wax, no doubt from the same bees.

A note comes with it, written in the hand of a hired scribe:]

Messere Ozymandias,

You have my sincerest appreciation for your generous gift, and the valorous spirit you bring to the Mirrorbound Council. While we may not always agree on the best course for our adopted city or our roles within it, there is no question in my mind you act out of justice and care for your people.

Pray the Maker more would conform to your example of kingship.

With gratitude,
Myrobalan Shivana

Modranicht gift

[thejoyrider]

[On the day of the holiday, a plate of homemade cookies and a sample of herbal tea mysteriously appears on his doorstep. The wrapping is decorated with a fresh lily flower (actually a Fae magic product, designed to fade away from existence in a few hours) and a ribbon. The attached handwritten note reads as follows:]

Happy Modranicht! Let’s have another great year here in Aefenglom!

M⚜️

pretend this actually happened last year, i'm a potato

[faithlikeaseed]

[Not long after Marie's gift shows up, a bag of honey candy and a small basket of tiny, fresh strawberries arrive at her door--along with a thank-you note for her considerate gift.

There is a post-script as well:]

I'm afraid I somehow managed to misplace the flower--or my wormipede ate it--but thank you all the same!

[He, uh. Didn't see it fade away.]

Some Time Later

[fuelingfire]

[Suddenly, one evening!]

Ah. Myr. Are you about? I've been meaning to ... how do they say it these days. 'Drop a line'.

gasp

[faithlikeaseed]

Is that how they say it these days? [Hello! Myr is obviously tickled by the expression.] How's that metaphor even meant to work?

--Ah, but, as you can see I am about and awake, [he adds, with amused chagrin at himself.] And free to talk.

Feb, after event shenanigans

[rollfordiplomacy]

[Everett had needed to rush into Coven quarantine, after their... certain dinner date. The cult's escalating violence was clear, but the faun had been infected in the chaos of that night and missed the main party proper. He'd heard others chatting over it, as many more were coming in similarly infected. Having arrived before the worst of it, he's rather quick to be released properly. As dramatic as he is, they're not too keen to let him slip away before they're fully certain he's well, but glad to get him out of there as soon as is reasonable.

The faun is practically throwing himself into a carriage to get home. He's texting frantically into his newly recovered watch, hoping for a quick answer]

My Darling Myr, are you alright?

I've only just been let out of the sickward.
I'm coming home immediately. Do you know how Viren is? Or Hector?
And yourself!?

Sorry, I asked about you twice didn't I.

[faithlikeaseed]

[Myr's own infection hadn't required quarantine but he hadn't been any happier to have it treated given it involved blood. He'd tried to stick around the hospital--at least two of his Bonded were there, after all, and he didn't know that L hadn't been delivered to it after the chaos he'd gotten from that Bond the previous night--but the last thing any of the healers needed was a frantic Faun underfoot after a mass-casualty event, and he'd been kicked out.

Somehow, Crookytail had been there waiting for him, and somehow he'd gotten home to...one of the houses he spent his nights in. He wasn't even sure which one it was, nor which bed he'd collapsed into when all his nervous energy finally gave out and he fell into the sleep of the profoundly exhausted.

The watch's chiming still managed to wake him up within minutes. His answer's a little slow in coming given he knocked the thing onto the floor in his haste to answer and had to remember how to get it to read a message to him.]

dearheart you're out thank the Maker

I'm

[He has no idea if he's all right. All of his Bonded were hurt. Something was still wrong with his mind.]

last I knew Viren was stable and I think I heard they had Hector in treatment but I don't know more

have you eaten??

Sometime between the 16th and the 20th

[hearthebell]

[The chaos of the Circle's implosion and all that occurred during it has had L laid up for the past few days. He hasn't seen Myr, knowing that there's much going on with his other Bonded, but they'd brushed up against one another fondly over the network post of an arrogant newcomer... and then gone cold, perhaps due to L's uncanny talent for pinching exposed nerves.

Provided they love you in good faith, of course.

Not everyone gets to be kind. Not everyone gets to love kindly, leaving L to do it his brusque and productive way. After giving it what feels like an appropriate amount of time to cool off (as if he's capable of measuring such things accurately), of course.

He's breathless by the time he makes it to Myr's cottage; though the walk is short, a habitual practitioner of blood magic probably isn't the best candidate to get his side slashed open by a marauding shade. He's still pale, slow and anemic, but he's here, and able, and it is time to set some neglected things right. Whether or not Myr is loved by others in good faith, there's no other way the faun seems able to love, at least from L's perspective. That shouldn't be condemned; that should be protected, and the man who grasps always for use and purpose has found a niche for the next span of time, however long it's needed.

When he knocks, it's a formality. He'll enter if bidden, or wait, if Myr has perhaps grown more wary about who he lets in, and when, and why. Their Bond, at least, is a tether to hold onto, some hint as to who is haunting the doorstep.]

[faithlikeaseed]

It's unlocked.

[Ordinarily, Myr would be up to get the door; ordinarily, he'd have been on his hooves to do so the instant he felt L's end of their Bond near his cottage with intent.

But today is not an ordinary one, and he simply isn't feeling much like moving. Or doing much of anything but trying, fruitlessly, to sleep and let the world pass him by. Oh--he's been going through the necessary motions of daily life, enough to keep body and soul together, to maintain his hives and keep Crookytail fed lest she start eating the furniture. Enough, barely, to convince people he doesn't need anyone worrying about him--he's just exhausted and shaken as they all have been by the Circle's collapse, and still recovering from injuries taken freeing Viren.

He even has himself halfway convinced: This is just a species of battle-shock and soon enough, he'd be back in his right mind. Soon enough his mood would stabilize. Until then, he just had to keep moving...

He had meant to go over to apologize to L sooner than this. He'd meant to do a lot of things sooner than this, like reaching out to the people he'd gotten kidnapped and making proper amends for his mistakes. But just like soon enough, sooner than hasn't seemed to materialize and so it's fallen to L to come seek him out and apologize for something Myr knows he really shouldn't have recoiled from. Shouldn't have hurt another person with his own injuries.

Shouldn't have done so much that was already, irrevocably done and gone beyond changing.

The door is, as he said, unlocked. Another thing he shouldn't be doing, when a Naga might exploit that weakness to crawl through it at any time, but caring about that is hard. Caring about a lot of things is hard right now: Exactly how hard's readily apparent when L walks through the door. The Faun's curled up in a chair in the sitting room, bundled up in one of his garish quilts in the middle of a lone, wan sunbeam through the windows.

It catches in the hair coming loose in a cloud from his ordinarily tidy braid.]

A day or two after the Circle is scattered

[turmoiling]

[Though Jin Guangyao is hardly in a good mood, he shows the world only his usual faint smile, slithering as quickly as he can through the chill weather. It's been an unusually slow start to the day, considering his Bonded's absence and the sun still late to rise.

Things may have gotten out of control, further than he (or anyone in the Evergreen Circle, clearly) had anticipated. Though other problems are... not so easily solved... his touch has been light outside of the issues with Lan Xichen. But it was a touch nonetheless, and one that should be tidied up as quickly as possible, now that the Circle is broken and his own plans had been fragmented just as quickly.

That faint smile fades to a more sincere, apologetic look as he slides up to Myr's doorway to knock. Not that the faun will see it, but such things carry into one's voice.]

ITS TIME

[faithlikeaseed]

[The days following the Circle's fall have not been kind to Myr.

He had--mostly--recovered physically from the injuries he'd taken rescuing Viren. He was--ostensibly--free from any lingering compulsion left on him. (L's description of how light a touch was involved in setting it did little to ease his mind and much to amplify his own guilt over his complicity in what had happened.)

But the full horror of what he'd enabled won't leave him, nor can he ignore it--quite the opposite, as he spends the hours he'd otherwise be sleeping (and suffering nightmares) trying frantically to learn the fates of those the Circle had taken. Tried to think of what he could do, if anything, to make restitution to those his own sense of duty tell him he betrayed.

He is in the middle of one such fruitless attempt--really not even an attempt anymore, really just pacing a circle around and around the cottage with his watch clutched in one hand--when the sound of scales sliding over the front walk freezes him in place. That had been a sound he associated with pleasant conversations in the garden, once.

No longer.

The knock makes his tail flag with unconscious alarm; he clutches his watch the tighter, then stalks stiff-legged toward the door, retrieving his staff on the way.]

Is that you, Guangyao?

[If the dropped pretense of politeness doesn't give him away, the barely leashed tension in his voice surely will.]

6th or so, Action

[cyclopticsadist]

[The portal on Niles' roof links the room to a stable just outside the wall. Niles nods to the farm hand on duty, who greets him and tells him which field his weanling was in. They chat about her growth and antics since he'd last checked in while he grabs a halter from the tack room, then thanks the npc local for his help. Niles leads him to the right pasture, finds his foal, halters her, and leads both of them to a far quiet corner of the fenced in paddock.

While walking her over he'd kept himself between her and Crookytail, but now that they're at a stop he stands aside. He's watching her intently for signs of stress as she eyes over the low to the ground creature, but when she leans her head down to sniff curiously rather than tossing or shying away, he feels comfortable letting her off her lead. Orlok is normally pretty timid, but apparently time spent among the herd had done her good.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Myr had been (figuratively) holding his breath for this moment almost since they'd left Niles' roof. More against disappointment than any thought either Crookytail or Orlok would come to grief through the meeting; he trusts Niles' assessment of his own horse, and Crookytail's general habit of good behavior, and his own abilities as a Faun, too much to think there was any danger in what the Chimera proposed.

But such is his general mood lately that even that small rejection, that little evidence of the world not working out as they all hoped it would, would've hit him dismayingly hard.

He can't see the moment Orlok leans over to sniff at Crookytail, of course, but what he can hear from both animals gives rather a large hint the first moment of contact has gone well. The wormipede suffers to be sniffed without making any sudden movements, turning only gradually toward the horse once Orlok draws away again to take the foal's measure with waving antennae.]

They seem to be getting on well, [he remarks through a smile, relaxing into a more casual lean on his staff.] --Crookytail's surprised at how small she is.

[Given the wormipede's previous equine experience had all come from adult horses used for mounts or draft, Myr's not much surprised himself.]

Audio message! About the 15th, 16th 1/2

[fuelingfire]

It seems this miserable star has decided to turn me into a faun, for some night-blighted reason. By the horns and split hoof, mayhap some form of sheep.

[There is a rap on stone that does indeed sound rather like hoof.]

What should I be expecting with this? When you have time, advice would be ... appreciated.

2/2 - about 30 minutes later give or take.

[fuelingfire]

Disregard the previous request, I do not think sheep .. or fauns have tails like this.

Waaay backdated to the hallucinations, audio;

[hearthebell]

[L sounds breathless, a little embarrassed, and a little glad.]

I know we talked about champagne, but believe it or not, I have some. I thought I'd let you know so we don't end up with an absurd amount, later.

[faithlikeaseed]

[It takes Myr a moment to get to his watch when the message comes in, and a longer moment still to orient himself on what, exactly, L is talking about.

Or...not orient himself, as it were. If he could blink at the device, he would.]

...I've a horrible feeling I misplaced part of this conversation, amatus. When did we talk about champagne?