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No cannibalism this winter, either?

In that case, since we're all here, shall we reflect on the past? Tell me about your least favourite events.

This is just stupid.

[But Break is perched in a window sill, laughing his head off.]

All right. We've been through this before with the angels... we can survive it again.

Is any one trapped on their own? It's time for the non-combatants to get into small groups in fortified homes, with as much food as can be carried.

Respond here and we can try to coordinate safe meeting points, and escorts.

[Following this.]

Whoooooo wants a slumber party?!

[Xerxes Break is combing tangles out of his little doll's hair when the whirr of the PCD alerts him to the fact that it's been turned on. The doll pipes up right away, in her irritating falsetto;]

Ow ow owowowow stop pulling!

I wouldn't have to pull if you hadn't let yourself get this tangled, Miss Emily.

[The ventriloquism is perfect. She continues;]

Help! Please! If someone on the network can hear meeee-

Don't be silly, Miss Emily, you couldn't live with anyone else. None of them would have the patience to put up with your temper or the insults you like to hurl.

I'm out of sugar.

You just volunteered to help me scavenge some.

[Yes, you, whoever is listening.]

I'm looking at you in particular, nephew.

As much as I try to resist making posts like this, I'm incredibly bored.

Who wants to do something ill-advised with me?

Game of cards, anyone?

[Deliberate, tense. Nothing like the Break that usually winks and flails at the camera.]

Belated well wishes to everyone for the various everythings-

Now that we're post explosions, shall we touch base with one another? I feel utterly out of touch. Like this year has started out of the gate like a horse with its tail on fire.

Perhaps it's all the new arrivals. Hello, little things! I hope all your questions have been answered. If they haven't perhaps I could give it a go, hm?

[Back in his very fine blue coat, and pleased as punch, Break takes a moment to spin his tophat idly before setting it on his head. Nothing like familiarity to make a nasty winter a little nicer.]

My goodness. I feel I should twirl.

[Because really, it's a very fine coat, and he's missed it. He does take a half step, letting it flare.]

I wonder how long this has to last before you all get twitchy?

[He muses, a tiny bit snide. Sun aside, Break hates the winter. He's in a bit of a mood- and lashing out at the PCD feed seems like a perfectly reasonable way to pass the time.]

[The PCD is jostled on to audio in time for an almighty crash to register. It skitters across the ground, cracks against a stone, and the video function is triggered. Break is on his hands and knees on the street, looking more irritated than anything else. He pats his pockets, realizes the device is missing, and sighs.

Slowly, he begins the process of patting his hands along the ground, investigating with his fingers what shapes seem lighter or darker than others to his ruined eyesight. He is- for once in his life- utterly silent.

Attempt to make it to the clinic: firmly derailed. Though he was getting close, from the looks of the buildings around him.]

[ooc notes: this will be a fairly non-responsive PCD post. Break has been having trouble with his vision for months, and now the event has also taken away his ability to hear as well. He won't be able to respond to comments via PCD, but the hope is someone will realize this and come find him, be it for good or for evil. Or just to laugh at him via the feed.]

[Break is sitting on his windowsill, blissfully unaware of the fact that the PCD has turned on where it's sitting on his desk. He reaches one of his legs out, barefoot, stretching so it makes it past the shelter of the awning and out into the raindrops falling outside.

Amusing himself like this for a few seconds longer, he keeps a tight hold on the frame for balance.

The whirr of the PCD eventually alters him to the fact that it's running. He glances over his shoulder sharply.]

...and we never got a pony!

[Rhode concluded her rant, and more pudding came flying through the air toward the PCD screen. Break dodges nimbly from his floating perch.

Rhode and Merlin are quite the sight. Both of them are coated, head to toe, in chocolate pudding, and seem to be... sitting in something that looks like a pond of it. Rhode is pouting something terrible.

Break whispers into the PCD]

Everyone in this [x,y] area should come by for a pudding war.

[A few hours after this, Break's PCD is jostled on.

It's a video feed, yes, but all that's visible is the inside of Break's pocket. From the sounds of things, he's still in the streets, propped against a building, wheezing for breath. A few coughs, and he spits blood onto his white coat sleeve, sinks to the ground with a groan.

Not a good day.]

I have a question, for anyone out there who's listening and is in the mood for a little thought.

What is your home? How do you define it?

[The PCD shows his little apartment is now all but empty. There's a small packed box, with foraged food, a few blankets and clothes. The entire contents of his life here fit into one little pile- Emily rests merrily on top. Her dress is becoming frayed, stained with dust. He'll have to take care of that soon.]

To what extent have you made this place your home, and if you have, what has helped you make that transition? If you have not, what holds you back?

I'll have lived here a year this Sunday.

[Finally, in the middle of the night, his voice floats over the PCD. He hasn't slept. He can't focus.]

How did I get this complacent? I've been- been just living here with you horrible people!

I have to get back to Emily-

[Kevin (because he's no longer Xerxes Break, not really) chokes on the name.]

Albus? Albus, can you hear me? If you're out there I'll do anything, please, just take me home. I have work to do and I don't have time. It's counting, I'm running out of time. Please, Albus.

[No staircases for Break.

He somehow goes ass over teakettle out of his open window, where he'd been sitting on the sill, landing in the soft garden outside with a rather surprised yell. The PCD in particular tumbles out of his hands, and lands in the grass, while Break lies on his back, blinking in shock.

That was unexpected.]

Really.

Really.

[Like so many recently, Break wakes up with a thrashing scream. He falls off the bed and into the view of the PCD, along with a shower of white feathers, wings collapsing down around him awkwardly. He gasps for a few moments, face buried in his hands, and stays like that.

There are some things it hurts just to remember, never mind to experience. Yes, even like that. It's a long moment before he gets control of himself and lifts his head, turning to look groggily at the little device.]

Oh, for the love of-

[Click. The video shuts off.]

In commemoration of my having spent a certain amount of time here- not sure how long, but some time indeed- I will now have Emily perform a dramatic reading of our latest collaborative poem.

[In an admirable display of ventriloquism, the little doll pipes up in her most irritating falsetto.]

Adstringendum, O, Adstringendum,
My inpronounceablest home!
You make people glum,
Can be a pain in the bum,
But I am pleased to call you my own.

The animus are our interesting friends,
Occasionally promising danger.
When they get bored the universe bends
But whatever that strange group sends
You know next time will be stranger!

...that's all Emily has so far. [Break continues, back in his own voice.] It needs an editing eye, but I think she shows real promise.

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A Maladjusted Jester

Nobody's Fool

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