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Monday, September 17; afternoon

[tinyworth]

[It's been more than half a day since the battle against Souji and Miles has been quiet all day. He helped make breakfast, he fed the dog, he took the dog on a walk and wrestled him into a bath when they got back. He read the books he got from the bookstore Grell worked at, and he busied himself with cleaning the house. But he was quiet.

At around the time he usually asks if Grell wants some tea, he doesn't say anything either. He just makes the tea the way she usually wants it and walks up to her.]

... Miss Grell?

[erythristic]

[She hasn't brought up the subject, it didn't seem right. Instead, she's been checking on her bruises to see how they're healing, going about her normal routine, and trying not to think about what happened yet.

She looks up at the sound of her name, lowering the book in her hands.]

Yes, Miles?

[inhumanity]

[Christopher often wanders out of the house much like a stray dog cat might, picking random hours to simply wander away. Tonight is one such occasion; Christopher slips away, waiting until he is outside (and therefore not disturbing Miles) to start humming to himself in the night.]

[erythristic]

[Simply put, the pay at the bookstore is nice-it's enough to help pay what bills happen, but when a lady's considering a fight, it would be noticeable if she took from it. To make all her numbers balance, even the ones she didn't talk about, it was easy to claim that was the reason she went out and did assassination jobs. But to tell the truth, she just wanted to make someone bleed once in a while. And she had done so that night, considering slipping in through the window to the bedroom so that no one would hopefully see the amount of blood she wore-considerable, like it always was, but that was why she didn't get too pretty for the job.

Humming greets her when she turns a corner, and yes that is Christopher, so she doesn't have a problem with him seeing it. Instead, she raises a hand in greeting, not wanting to disturb his song, but knowing she has to go the opposite direction. Just passing along, nothing suspicious here.]

December 28. after the broadcast. text.

[tinyworth]

Are you coming home for dinner? We'll leave some on the table if you want; you know how to use the microwave, right?

If you don't, I'll be up.

when she gets access to her own communicator again

[erythristic]

Thank you for the offer, but I don't think I'll be home for a few days.

whatever time her next shift was / action

[angrytadpole]

[Darren walks into the bookstore at the designated time, impatiently looking for the girl that claimed to be a god over the feed.]

[erythristic]

[She's organizing the science fiction.]

Welcome! Can I help you with anything?

[Not even looking at him because not falling off this stool is more important.]

action; whenever probably sometime recent or rn

[tinyworth]

[There's been a certain routine in Miles' everyday life since Grell's battle with the ninth. He knocks on her door in the morning, makes sure she's getting any help she needs, and talks to her occasionally so she knows there are people in the house. He's been telling the animals to stay out of her way, too. Except whatever Miles does, he mostly stays out of her way. He hasn't been approaching her too much, though it's not because he's upset at her, anymore.

But this morning he's thinking. He's been stubborn about not talking to her, and maybe too much. Being mad at her and ignoring her isn't going to change anything. He should apologize, or at least just start talking to her. Maybe she won't mind if he gets in her way again?

So he knocks on her door this morning, thinking he'll stick around today and help her around.]

[erythristic]

[Grell would be lying if she said it wasn't difficult adjusting, but she supposes it's fortunate that she has housemates that are considerate enough to leave the furniture where it is, and that dresses don't require much thought when it comes to what to wear.

She's been up for a while, taking her time to brush her hair and use her hands to check her work-being incapacitated is no excuse to look ridiculous, so she'll go through it twice. When the knock comes, she sets that aside and goes to get the door. It has to be Miles because of how he's come every day before.]

...Good morning.

action;

[cutting_overtime]

[He hasn't gone to see Grell since a quick exchange of blows and "remarks: none".

But he's sick and tired of wearing clothes that don't fit (since he has one good suit, and he'll be damned if he ruins that by wearing it every day) and he's not a tailor. Sutcliffe might know how to fit a suit.

Ron raises a hand to knock on the door, but then his metal bug "pet" decides to knock its head against the wood.]

[erythristic]

[She hears the knock and gets the door, but when she sees who it is, she isn't entirely smiling. At least it's been a while since her memories showed and so he can't be here to discuss that.]

And to what do I owe the pleasure of this social call?

[He can come in if he wants, she's not opposed to it.]

December 17th. Video. SUICIDE

[cutting_overtime]

Hey, boss. [Thank god she didn't pick up the phone.

He finds a smile, even though he knows exactly what he's steeled himself for.]

So, you know there's a bunch of people sticking around for the big Christmas Eve fight.

Ah, that sounded totally weird, didn't it? [A sheepish laugh.

Then his expression changes, goes quiet and serious and a little bit, just a little bit scared.]

I'm not gonna be one of them. [He's a little lightheaded already, bleeding out from a slit wrist offscreen.]

I... I probably should be, but you know, it's not like I really want to. They aren't offering anything I want. And I don't wanna be the guy who finally kills you.

[It's not some dramatic romantic notion of chivalry. Grell just seems, has always seemed, to have so much life, to find so much real enjoyment in the world. Ronald Knox? He's just a little shadow, gold and black and trying, moonlike, to shine as brightly as brightness.]

So, [He's having trouble thinking, vision going grey and black and sliding away. He just wants to close his eyes for a little bit.]

So you should go and win this thing. 'cause I know you totally can.

I guess I just wanted t-to say thanks. [He's so tired. Has been since the hospital that he will never really be able to clear his thoughts of.]

Thanks for everything, boss.

[And he smiles, waves with the hand not coated in his own blood, and ends the video.]

[erythristic]

[She sees the message and she feels something she hasn't in a long time, not since a man literally had his hand around her heart.

Fear.

No, she won't allow this. Can't allow this. She is his superior and she will order him to survive if she has to. Not like this, he can't go quietly. These thoughts drown out anything else as she's out the door, running to where he's staying, where she remembers it being. The locked door she doesn't care about, furious knocking and shouting of his name draws no sound so she backs up and kicks it open. She will drag him out of where he is, no matter how many doors she has to break.

And yet, for all her speed, she is too late, and she knows it with the certainty of one with death written into their bones from the moment she sees him. Her pleas for him to wake can't bring him back, not from death's hands or the UAA's. Grell falls to her knees, gazing at his figure, violently cursing the hellbeasts that run this place in every language she knows, her voice failing when she notices the warmth in her eyes, the shaking in her shoulders. She is crying, and Grell Sutcliffe has not wept for anything here. Not for Miles, not for pain, not for anger, not for death. She cries, here where they cannot see and hear, because they have killed death and he is just a boy who should be laughing while the world falls apart.

When she's collected herself some, she picks him up, brings him over to the sink so she can clean off his arm. Everything is slow, methodical, and continues to be so as she carries him to his bed and lays him out. Hands folded on his stomach, eyes shut, if you ignored the blood and took off your glasses he could be sleeping.

She bows her head, whispering the formula one more time over him like it was a prayer.]

Ronald Knox. Died December 17th, 2013. Cause of death: suicide by exsanguination. Remarks: None.

[Grell takes a breath, steadying herself lest she cry again. She could have said many things, could have said he died far from home, an officer of the grim reapers, that he died with dignity, but she thinks it's better if she doesn't. Let everything remain unsaid, let the rest be silence.

She will, however, bend down and kiss him gently on the forehead before she departs, honest sentiment in the quiet formality she's fallen back to.

When she gets home later, she locks herself in her room so she can silently cry herself to sleep, not caring that her clothes will still be marked with his blood.]

IC (event Letters from home Kunsel spam courtesty of Zack's contact list)

[useless_trivia]

If you're having a lucky streak, don't tell Zack. He'll jinx it.

[erythristic]

Right. Thanks for the advice.

Video

[avisionofwar]

[ A bloody sunset casts his pale face in reds and golds; he's sitting in the garden, legs crossed on a bench. Parchment and paper scattered about him, the writing in some foreign script.

But all the warm, friendly brightness in his features has been leeched out; his eyes are bright and hard as sapphires, and there's a savage-seeming intensity cast over his features. ]

My Lady Grell. [ He nods in lieu of a bow. ]

You mean to battle at the behest of the monarchs. Is that not so?

[ The innocuous-seeming question is just the lure to get her into the conversation. ]

voice

[erythristic]

[she's still hesitant to use the function that displays her as if looking through a window, and instead replies with solely her voice. that, at least, is familiar.]

I do. What makes you ask?

[his expression could not escape her, and she wonders what might have him so upset. quite a change from their last meeting.]

video;

[spiderlilies]

Greeeell, darling. [ A bat of pretty lashes in your direction. ] Where are you? I've a favor to ask.

[erythristic]

[according to the background, not in the castle at all.]

Oh, you know, out and about. What can I do for you?

video; slightly backdated idk

[spiderlilies]

Grell! I haven't seen you for-- what, days now? Where are you?

[erythristic]

[ah yes, she had thought she was forgetting something when they'd set out, but she'd ignored the feeling...

Grell at least looks properly chastised, some blood on her neck and soot on her cheek. she'll have to find a way to wash later, she refuses to go around looking awful even when riding with warriors.]

I could have sworn I left you a note...

Private Video - Night of Aug. 05!

[avisionofwar]

[ The light of the locket is the only illumination of the space that surrounds him; and based on the arrangement of his hair, Celegorm is lying down, clad in funeral whites. His skin is overpale, his lips blue-cast, his face streaked with tears he has not yet brushed away. ]

M-my Lady Grell. I beg your aide again, should you deign to give it.

I'm... trapped. In a crypt of some kind. T-the... Queen Morla.... she bade me live again. I heard her voice in the dark...

[ He clamped his eyes shut, sucked in a shuddering breath. ]

[erythristic]

[when Grell answers, she expects it's going to be a member of her party with a question, or Ann, or anyone else. seeing his face, she doesn't even think of hiding her shock.

she saw him die, they all had. she had seen as his body was carried away. Celegorm should be lost to them all and yet...it's like the very lines written in her notes. their magic undoing death even here. their will be done.

all of that she thinks in less than a moment.]

I'm coming for you.

[and she's moving, the decision made already. the unsteadiness of the image she transmits testifies to that much. she can worry over the overturned rules of the world in a moment--there has to be a way they've done it without completely shattering what it is to die.

where else do they place the dead other than down, she thinks, and she grips the locket tighter as she chooses to leap down rather than take the stairs. the ground level is not far at all if she uses her speed, and she'll hold a guard at knifepoint should they refuse to tell her where the crypt would be.]

[thebreakingwave]

[ At some point, an owl drops off a note for Grell. It's been written on heavy vellum and seems to be quite the sturdy, if small, note. Under the text is a rather inexpertly drawn owl, but it moves around the page, hopping and flying, as if it's alive. Should one be foolish enough to try to poke it, or leave their fingers on the paper for too long, the drawing-owl can actually nip strong enough to draw blood. Fear its papercut wrath! ]

If you write a message on the other side of this note and then burn it, it'll get to me wherever you are.
HP.

[ Even though she has no way of ever knowing, Harry feels a bit bad about the things Hermione said and he wants to do something kind to balance the scales. ]

MASS TEXT; backdated to the 1st.

[mixcds]

Dear fellow shard bearer,

I was hoping I might be able to have a chat with you about a couple of things, at the behest of Higgin, the majordomo of Caer Scima. I'm looking to take note of your current whereabouts and any special abilities you may have or may have been granted by Morla.

I appreciate that this is actually very forward, but you'd be doing me an incredible favour by getting in touch.

Sincerely,
Kieren Walker

drive-by action » 22/12

[manipulative]

[ delivered by imps, on the evening of the twenty-second, grell will receive, in a box, a wide cuff gold bracelet. the imps will state it's from lady katherine who sends her regards to a comrade who she had met within the caves buried beneath the moon. and then they'll scurry away as their voices echo within the corridor that she hopes to meet her again. ]

[erythristic]

[in response, on the morning of the 23rd, Katherine will receive a box of her own, with a pair of twin gemstones inside. the servant that delivers it also passes along a note and bows before departing.]

Lady Katherine,

Thank you very much for the lovely gift -- you have superb taste. Please accept these as my Yule gift to you. In this form, you can choose whether to keep them as loose stones or have them transformed into whatever jewellery you desire most.

I deeply regret that the end of this year has kept me so busy, but hopefully with the dawn of the new one, there will be more than enough downtime so that we can meet again.

-G.S.

letter » JAN 12.

[atoned]

[ zuko has asked an imp to deliver a note to grell. written on notebook paper, and ripped from a spiral bound, she'll find her homework. ]

Grell,

I know you're going to be busy, but that's the best time to do this. I don't know when I'll be back in Caer Scima. There's something I have to do in Quendi. But I need you to do a few things for me.

Firstly, take care.

Secondly, every night, I want you to light ten candles, and try and snuff them out without using anything but your energy. You may not be able to do it at first, but if you practice focusing your energy on a different aspect of the flame, you'll be able to control it better.

If you like tea, make yourself one that's cold. I want you to heat it to the temperature you like best. It's easy to do — hold the cup in the palm of your hands and focus your energy on it. It may be scalding the first few times, but I know you can do it.

And practice your breathing. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. It'll help in the long-run. Do this every morning and every night — it wouldn't hurt to do it randomly throughout the day, too.

When I come back, we can try and make fire when you're not standing still.

Look for the silver sandwich. If you don't know what that means, you just have to keep trying.

If you need me, just call.

Zuko 蘇科

july 18th | voice

[heralding]

The stories are harsh because he believes all should be judged by him.

[There's a pause, though it is not a long one.]

He's wrong.

[That's it. That's her message.]

[erythristic]

[no, you're wrong, Lightning, she thinks.

there will be no reply, because Grell doesn't think she should bother.]

voice | near the end of july

[heralding]

Can we meet somewhere?

[Congratulations, Grell. She's learned about privacy and the lockets.]

[erythristic]

The same place as last time or do you have somewhere else that's more preferable?

[she can tell, but she doesn't mind.]