Quiet week, isn't it?

[Saya will never be the first to say no curses but she's thinking it]

I remember something, from long ago. An invasion. Around this time of year. I remember locking the Warehouse.

It was a long time ago, but I was only twenty-six.

I'm sorry the warm weather didn't last longer.

[That's how one uses I'm sorry, right?]

Hello, City.

The weather is turning and turning and it's going to snow soon.

I suppose everyone who has an American background is getting ready for Thanksgiving. When I'm home, my sister makes a fancy dinner. The entire family has to go; she doesn't like it when we say no, and she's in charge. I've only missed once since I was sixteen.

I suppose I missed last year, too.

There is a saying about family, isn't there?

I have a question that perhaps someone in the City's police department can assist me with.

I've been going through records and while I've found a number of attempted statutes and by-laws, and even records of a now-defunct courthouse system ruled over by the deities, I'm having trouble finding laws, and how the police department has any power whatsoever.

So If someone could enlighten me, I would appreciate it. Otherwise, I have trouble with the general acceptance of a police-administered investigation, trial, and justice system.

And yes Ms. Lynde, this does pertain to you, so try to keep up during the conversation this time, will you?

If no one can provide me with satisfactory answers, I fully intend on having access to my employee back.

I turned 27 three days ago. Usually Socrates reminds me - I get distracted and I don't realize my birthday is passing. This year it was cars and curses. I've been repairing the body and engine of an off-roading vehicle, and the smell of the blood in the backseat the work has been engrossing. He gave me a pair of seashell earrings last year, ones he found and harvested himself. They were pale and made of the Glory of the Sea.

The odd thing is that I'm fairly sure I've turned 27 here before, but that was years ago. So am I in my thirties, now? I suppose it doesn't matter. I'll calculate the numbers. I'm 27.

There's a cake. I think it's chocolate.

If you're really that interested in seeing the cars, please stay at least ten feet away. They're far more expensive than you are.

If you're interested in the Warehouse, please knock first. Rosella does enjoy guests but of the invited variety.

Hello.

Welcome to the City.


[ooc: Whatever you would like!]

I can't find anything.

I can't find anything and I need to find things.

Everything has been moved.

Everything has been moved and I need to find things.

Everything has been moved and pieces are missed.

Pieces are missing.

Why is everything out of its place?



( ooc: )

If May is a bad month, and the summertime is busy, then what should I expect for the autumn? I remember flashes of a bad October, once, a long time ago. But they're just flashes. People screaming. Body part littering the City. I wonder if I should trust those memories. Are there suggestions from the audience?

[A pause]

I'm seeking one mechanic, preferably skilled although I'll train someone who is particularly intelligent. The hours are weekdays only, with potential to cover on weekends if there's a curse. The pay is competitive, and the cars are excellent.



[ooc: Action if you want to meet her on the beach!]

[There's a high pitched scream, one that belongs to a young woman]

Who are you?

Get out of my - where is this - oh my god did you kidnap me - no, get aw-

[The scream again but this time it's muffled]

R--


[ooc: action for cold_dry_pieces and residents of the Warehouse, if they so choose. Replies will come from warptheweft, when Saya's calmed down]

I suppose the question I should be asking is if anyone is concerned with the recent pattern of curses.

I like patterns. I like things that fall into predictablity, but more importantly, I like the symmetry of it. I like it when things look right. So it doesn't bother me.

I'm particularly fond of the layout of the City.

Tick-tock.

I didn't break my hand yesterday. I thought I ought to say that, at least. Did anyone?

I don't believe in punishment for the masses for the sins of one, but I suppose that might make me in the majority. In this case I think I'll just put the rest of my energy into a new project. Perhaps one, that when I finish it, I'll sell.

( Not cut ICly )

Would anyone be interested in buying it, complete?



[A pause]

Some of you met my brother. I feel as though I should insist you forget him.

The law of averages suggests that the most random of events will balance out. That what we have no control over isn't inherently out to get us or out to help us. That luck is chance and chance is a mathematical formula.

I don't understand luck, but I understand math, and I don't think that luck is involved when you're chosen by someone stronger than you to become a human pinball. And I don't think anything can average out a well-born individual of more than moderate intelligence.

But then people also say death is the great equalizer. I wouldn't know that, either, as I haven't died.

I hear that there are people who can manipulate luck, to tweak the strands of reality's weave until they burst forward with fortune. I suppose, then, where does the law of averages stand on that?

June can't possibly be so bad as May, but then, May was not as bad as people made it out to be. It's almost disappointing.

[The camera is expertly handled this time, and it shows the Garage. Saya is currently dressed to nines in expensive couture, as usual, despite the fact that she's working on cars. She has her head under the hood of a car, her hands inside doing something unseen. The camera pans away from her for a moment.]

The Garage is an immaculate place; despite being home to constant repairs, everything is in it's place, much like the owner, who works every day no matter the condition or the holiday.

She attributes this to the work ethic instilled by-

[The narration is cut off by a sudden loud thump, and the camera pans back to Saya just in time to see her, holding the back of her head, stumble back a couple of steps, and then there's a snap as she falls at precisely the same moment, like a marionette with cut strings, not fainting as much as simply collapsing, her limbs tucked under her in odd ways]

Sy-

[Her voice stops and she looks, confused, at the heel of her shoe, which is no longer attached to the rest. The heel snapped off.]

That's never happened before.

[She looks up at the camera for a moment, and then it shuts off.]


[ooc: Action for Garage employees, audio for everyone else. She'll be going to the hospital eventually! Italics are the documentary narration.]

Snap, snap, snap, snap, break.

[There's a clean snapping sound here, like wood]

I think there's too much attributed to the idea of omens. Is it poor taste not to believe in them? Maybe it's a lack of ascribing fear into my everyday life that makes me unable to see the point. If we die, we die. If we die but know we're going to die, how does that make the conclusion any different?

That is perhaps too rational. There are, after all, killer carousel animals on the loose.

I'm prepared for many bad things. But that's common sense.

Snap, snap, snap, City.

Who'll snap first?

The harpies are gone, and if you are not Rosella, and you are not out of the Warehouse by midnight, I will personally incinerate your belongings.

And I don't particuarly feel inclined to clean up after you, so if you leave a mess, I will not be pleased.

No mess.

No.

Mess.

Now.

No mess.

[The camera shows a little girl with black hair and brown eyes - she looks eight or nine.]

Nanny....nanny! Onda fya ondjala!

[There's a pause here]

Tate?

[Another pause, as she considers. She looks like she's thought of something, though!]

Haai? Ek is verlore...ek het honger, ek soek na nanny...

[She pauses again, and speaks once more. Her accent is clipped and clearly a mix of South African and Namibian, pointed and almost Dutch and English mixed with a little bit of German thrown in: much stronger than Saya's adult accent]

Hello? I'm looking for my vade-my father, and I'm very hungry. I think my nanny lost me. Please, someone, understand English, my German is not very good. My name is Satya Daphne. My father works at the American Embassy. I'm not sure how I got here.

[And yet another pause, but she has to do this, she's looking slightly more unsure now]

Entschuldigung, Ich heisse Satya Daphne....

[But before she can finish, the video stops]

[ooc: She's speaking Oshiwambo, Afrikaans, and German, in that order. I don't speak any of these languages, so I apologize for any butchery! replies from prewoven]

Family, family, family.

Is that what people are looking for?

Hello, and welcome to the City. Don't touch the cars, unless you're paying. The cars, they don't want to be touched. Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous, I want to eat

This is an odd place. To spew in visitors and spew them back out. It's like it wants people to be upset when they see those they love, and then watch them leave.

Doesn't anyone want to upset me?

Water damage.

Water damage everywhere.

Clean clean clean clean. It would have been nice to get a warning. Water can do damage to delicate equipment. It made a mess of everything, nothing is in order, everything is in a mess.

Clean clean clean.

After I finish cleaning this room I am installing better drainage in the garage. I am not even finished with soundproofing. So much to do.

[Private to Robert Chase | unhackable]

Are you better? Or are you dead?

I'm glad to know that the awful music only had to last one day. I hope we can manage to avoid an encore presentation. In the meantime, I've discovered a half-finished soundproofing experiment for the Garage. I think I'll take the time this week to finish it.

Speaking of projects in the Garage, have you made a decision on space yet, Cinna? There's no rush, but you should know that soundproofing might increase the amount of sound of construction, until it is finished. I'm sure I can finish it quickly, though.

I'm remembering things more and more as the days pass. Did you know that once the City was invaded by aliens? I remember that. And a witch trial. I remember that as well. Scattered torture devices throughout the City, once. Body parts everywhere. Waste waste waste.

And people. Tony Foster. Cirucci. George Lass. The Corinthian. John Constantine. Harry Dresden. Arion...just names, right now. Can someone help me fill in the blanks? Or maybe I'm asking too much.