Eryn Katz .

"Rusty Quill presents, .." this little roleplay blog! Artifacts keeper. Pronouns may vary

[mrartefactstorage]

Hope everyone is enjoying "Evilcon" !

Originally I was supposed to host a panel on "How to distinguish items with "bad vibes" from truly cursed/malevolent objects," but I was informed that would lead to... Information on how to find them being released to people who might want to do that. Which is counterproductive.

So I'll just take my pto and check the stands as a visitor.

[eryntheartifact]

LOSER LOSER LOSER (<- was not invited) which automatically makes the whole thing SUCKY and STUPID!!!!!!

[mrartefactstorage]

Aw, really? If you think it's stupid, I guess I can put back this thing I'd found for you.

[eryntheartifact]

,,,,what thing?

[mrartefactstorage]

[eryntheartifact]

OH MY FUCKING GOSHLY GOODNESS ITS GORGEOUS!!!!

Ahem. I mean. Thank you, Silveesttueurrr, .. so kind!

[mrartefactstorage]

You can say if you don't want it, since it's from the Sucky and Stupid thing.

[eryntheartifact]

NONONOnnonoo,,, I want it. I want it. I take everything I've said back. I want that fucking hat. Give me it.

[mrartefactstorage]

Hope everyone is enjoying "Evilcon" !

Originally I was supposed to host a panel on "How to distinguish items with "bad vibes" from truly cursed/malevolent objects," but I was informed that would lead to... Information on how to find them being released to people who might want to do that. Which is counterproductive.

So I'll just take my pto and check the stands as a visitor.

[eryntheartifact]

LOSER LOSER LOSER (<- was not invited) which automatically makes the whole thing SUCKY and STUPID!!!!!!

[mrartefactstorage]

Aw, really? If you think it's stupid, I guess I can put back this thing I'd found for you.

[eryntheartifact]

,,,,what thing?

[mrartefactstorage]

[eryntheartifact]

OH MY FUCKING GOSHLY GOODNESS ITS GORGEOUS!!!!

Ahem. I mean. Thank you, Silveesttueurrr, .. so kind!

[mrartefactstorage]

Hope everyone is enjoying "Evilcon" !

Originally I was supposed to host a panel on "How to distinguish items with "bad vibes" from truly cursed/malevolent objects," but I was informed that would lead to... Information on how to find them being released to people who might want to do that. Which is counterproductive.

So I'll just take my pto and check the stands as a visitor.

[eryntheartifact]

LOSER LOSER LOSER (<- was not invited) which automatically makes the whole thing SUCKY and STUPID!!!!!!

[mrartefactstorage]

Aw, really? If you think it's stupid, I guess I can put back this thing I'd found for you.

[eryntheartifact]

,,,,what thing?

[mrartefactstorage]

Hope everyone is enjoying "Evilcon" !

Originally I was supposed to host a panel on "How to distinguish items with "bad vibes" from truly cursed/malevolent objects," but I was informed that would lead to... Information on how to find them being released to people who might want to do that. Which is counterproductive.

So I'll just take my pto and check the stands as a visitor.

[eryntheartifact]

LOSER LOSER LOSER (<- was not invited) which automatically makes the whole thing SUCKY and STUPID!!!!!!

[eryntheartifact]

[Her thumb brushes against the fold of a rosen-pink envelope. Down the chute! She throws it, and listens carefully, as it tumbles down, down, down.]

[Memento Mori. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Skin to plastic, blood to sand. She'd always believed something, anything, came after the after. She turns on her heel.]

"..and, do you think theres a heaven, Sarah?"

[A ragged hand reaches for her face, tucks loose strands of poorly-dyed hair behind her ears. The hand is wrong. The hand is squishy. The hand is all-too-warm.]

"I believe in the illusion of an afterlife."

[The voice, one that commands the hand, gurgles out. Saliva and bile and rotten gums fill the voice with such a disgustingly familiar smell. Cigarettes, cheap ones.]

[She feels poetic, really. It is poetic. They met through death, did they not? And where'd that get them? Dead. Thats the thing with life, noone makes it out alive. Atleast, thats what Beetlejuice said.]

"You're so vague."

[Do you think they regret writing such blasphemes?]

"Right, my job interview starts soon. Twenty-ish minutes, uuh, I think. Wish me luck?"

[The hand reaches back. It retracts into a leathery pocket, not much different from its material. One in the same, both were probably once alive, now dead. Unless thats vegan leather. We all know they cant afford real.]

"Goodluck, Ireland."

"I love you."

[The hand trembles and clutches around a small, cardboard box. Damp and soggy, as Ireland, ever the clumsy one, oh, she'd spilled gin all over Sarahs jacket.]

[It bares its teeth until they bend. The voice, no, the mouth. The head which belongs to the mouth, it nods, in what she'd hope is encouragement.]

"Rather."

[And with harsh footsteps, it leaves. Faster than it'd shown up. Its shoes are as ugly as its face, as its fake eyes and teeth and hair. As its plastic and faux fingernails, featureless.]

[She chuckles. We both know it cant feel encouragement as us humans do. It doesnt care for her. Still, let the girl hope.

[The door opens with a slow creak.]

"Hhii, s'sorry I'm late, Mister Hodge."

[mrartefactstorage]

Waiting for the day I step out of my (office) and stretch and someone says "ohh big stretch!" instead of "WHAT? WHAT IS THAT??? WHAT IS THAT FUCKING THING?? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MANY MOUTHS?? OH GOD, GET AWAY FROM ME!! SWEET JESUS!! OH FUCK!!!!!"

[mrartefactstorage]

PSA: @ Artefact Storage Staff

Good morning everyone!

Some of you might remember (I hope) that today starts our late spring cleaning week!

Artefact Storage will remain closed to the public. Visits and donations are held off for the day and parcels sent through the chute will be processed starting tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do, starting from routine maintenance.

Make sure any visitors without an appointment are made aware of this!

S.H.

[mrartefactstorage]

PSA: @ Artefact Storage Staff

-> Reply to: PSA: @ Artefact Stor...

[ > audio recording ]

[TAP.]

[FOOTSTEPS. FAINT CHATTER AND OVERHEAD MUSIC.]

SILVESTER

Hi everyone...!

Uhm... You might be wondering why Artefact Storage is completely closed, and not just to the public as I said this morning. That is because I have the keys, and– (sigh) I have become suddenly unavailable. Please don't...

[SHOPPING CART RATTLES PAST LOUDLY.]

SILVESTER

...Please don't call the locksmith, this will be resolved in time tomorrow.

Have a nice day.

[TAP ON THE SCREEN. RECORDING CONTINUES.]

[SILVESTER PUTS HIS PHONE IN HIS POCKET AND CATCHES UP TO THE SHOPPING CART.]

SILVESTER

This is the total opposite of clearing out. We're just putting stuff back in!

ERYN

Whaaat? No. This is business. You have took at the bigger fixture, Silv.

SILVESTER

It's "picture—"

IMOGEN

Techincally this is an opportunity to learn how to price what you'll be clearing out. No one's going to take anything if it's too expensive.

SILVESTER

Then what are all these dolls??

ERYN

(pouty) They're for my collection...!

SILVESTER

You just want to see if they're haunted.

ERYN

You can have the ones that aren't.

SILVESTER

Also that. Please stop doing that.

IMOGEN

You could be looking around yourself instead of waiting for us to be done. There's... (pause) Clothes.

SILVESTER

Why did you say it tha—

[FABRIC SHUFFLING. SCREEN TAPS.]

[junabuggy]

Mime Graphics ₊˚𝄞₊˚⊹

☆ 𝐅2𝐔 𝖿ⱺ𝗋 ρ𝖾𝗋𝗌ⱺ𐓣αᥣ υ𝗌𝖾 ૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა 𝐂𝗋𝖾ᑯ𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊υ𝗂𝗋𝖾ᑯ 𝗂𝖿 𝗋𝖾ρⱺ𝗌𝗍𝗂𐓣𝗀/ρυ𝗍𝗍𝗂𐓣𝗀 𝗂𐓣 𝗀𝗋αρɦ𝗂𝖼 𝖼ⱺmρ𝗂ᥣα𝗍𝗂ⱺ𐓣𝗌/𝗀𝗋αρɦ𝗂𝖼 ɦⱺα𝗋ᑯ𝗌/𝗌𝗍υ𝖿𝖿 ⱺ𝖿 𝗍ɦ𝖾 ᥣ𝗂𝗄𝖾

[pidgefudge]

hello 👋 i am the worlds smallest bug 🐛 and ☝️ i too would like to “fag it up” if i may

[aropride]

i dont “have ptsd” that’s all just the wizard’s curse

[aropride]

the wizard is my mother but that's not relevant

[eryntheartifact]

[CLICK]

ERYN

Eer, Silvester?

???

Yeah?

ERYN

Theres a problem with our chute. Its er, well I dunno how to explain it. Theres like this rotting smell? And, its not really working?

???

Oh, Ireland. You silly thing. This' an issue that should be brought up with our cleaning department. Run along now.

ERYN

..what?

???

What? Any other questions, Ire?

ERYN

No, no I'm sorry, the fuck d'you just call me? Ireland? Do I look like an Ireland? Whats up with you, seriously, where'd you get "Ireland" from?

???

I was under the impression "Ireland" was your birth-given name.

(Long pause)

ERYN

You're not Silvester.

???

Dont you be silly, Ire. Ofcourse I am.

ERYN

No, you're not Silvester. He doesnt talk all kooky-like, and he sure as hell doesnt call me "Ire". What are you? Huh? Another one of those beady-eyed little freaks? I'll set you on fire. How about that, huh? D'you like fire?

???

..Sarahs been asking about you.

ERYN

Is that why you're here?

???

Yes.

ERYN

Well then, tell her to fuck off. I wont bother with a woman that wont even show up for me. Seriously, did she think sending one of her little, "not-what-they-are"s up would solve anything, anything, at all?

???

She didnt send me.

ERYN

Well then, who did?

???

Lorelai.

ERYN

Who?

???

The one claiming to be your mom? Lorelai, choppy hair, she's got that tattoo on her wrist?

ERYN

Doesnt ring a bell.

???

Lorelai Katz. You've met her before, I know she's been at the shop.

ERYN

Nnoo. Dont know anyone named Katz.

???

Dont fuck with me.

ERYN

Alright, alright .. what does she want with me? And er, Sarah? Whats her relations with Sarah?

???

No idea. Guess its something to do with your father? She didnt really tell.

ERYN

Alright.

(Long pause)

???

What?

ERYN

No, sorry, could you just stop with the whole Silvester thing for now? Its just really freaking me out. Get your skin back on.

???

Oh, okay.

(Faint shuffling)

ERYN

Dude, no, your own skin. Get your own skin back on, please.

???

Right, my bad.

ERYN

S'alright.

(Squishy, flesh-like sounds, then more shuffling. A pause.)

???

Guess I'll get going, now.

ERYN

Right, yeah, you better, 'fore my boss thinks I'm sleeping with another sack-a-dust.

???

Gross!

ERYN

Yeah.

(Long pause. Door opening with a creak)

???

..oh, and Ireland?

ERYN

Yeah?

???

If theres anything that needs setting fire, you should really burn that tape-recorder you've got.

[CLICK]

[pisshandkerchief]

"I'm sweating like a pig": scientifically innacurate (pigs don't sweat), mean (kind of implies you think pigs are gross :( not cool dawg)

"I'm sweating like a motherfucker: realistic. you probably would sweat if you fucked someone's mother. implies you've got game

[fagstaynight]

ladies… ladies… theres enough of me to go around… cut me into little pieces… rip me into bloody chunks… its ok… i dont mind…

[mrartefactstorage]

[It's the 5th of April.

It's Silvester's birthday. Also Easter Sunday. And he has risen. Silvester, I mean, but also Jesus if you celebrate. Anyway, Silvester has risen out of bed. After rolling off of it.]

OOMPH!

[Now, why would he fall out of a bed he has slept in for years with no incident? Because he tossed around a lot, that's why. Also, his legs got tangled in his pajamas and his attempts at kicking them off made him wiggle around like a seal.

He sits up now, very confused by the fact everything feels and looks a little too big around him, including his glasses on the nightstand. They slip off his face.

This all wouldn't actually be surprising if you saw him right now. Because why wouldn't everything be strange to him if he's not just turned... 8 years old?]

Ma'? Mamma?

[He wanders around the house after calling out for his parents for a while. He's huffing and puffing, saying pretty much what any spoiled little birthday boy would say: "Where are the presents? Why are you hiding? You said I could eat breakfast late and you'd wake me up!"

Finally realising that no one will come out to comfort him, he's started to cry. Loudly. All while still wandering around the house. Until he finds his own phone.]

[Dialing... Any number that comes up. Out of spite, for whoever left his phone there in his hands.]

[eryntheartifact]

[Riing, rrrriinngg, rrriiiiiinnnggg. Eryn picks up on the third. She's sitting on the floor, painting a comically-oversized chicken egg. Not for Easter, no, she doesnt celebrate. Eryns jewish! She just likes painting chicken eggs.]

Magnus Institute, artifacts storage department. What d'you want?

[She pauses, then stares at the contact number. Eryn chuckles and stands up, the shuffle of her slippers being heard through the calls-line. She opens the door, then steps out of Silvesters office, leaving a mess of acrylics and broken shells behind her.]

Ooh, wakey-wakey, grandpa. Finally decided to come into the office? Well, good, I'm tired of answering your calls. I'll come and open the gate for ya.

[She doesnt wait for him to answer, walking down the hallway, pausing, and instead opting for the scenic route. Through the ventilation of his office. She falls with a light "thump" into the first-floors reception.]

[mrartefactstorage]

[But he's not there. He's still at home, somehow on negative points of his usual checklist to get ready. And he's still on the other end, trying to form a sentence.]

He- Hello? Who is... Who does this- I am calling from a house with one floor- whose tablet is this?

[It's a normal phone.]

Is it my mom's? Is she there?

[eryntheartifact]

[Another pause from Eryn, and then a loud, long-suffering inhale. She leans her arm, bruised from the slight fall, against the reception desk, papers sliding around and falling to the floor.]

Right, who is this? Y'sound too young to be that Charlie, did you steal this phone? Thats not a very nice thing to do, buddy. What, Rosie?

[She whispers to someone, the receptionist, who seems to be interrupting her conversation, with faint mentions of "dust" and "how did you get here through the vents" and "did you break your arm". Nothing important.]

No, no, its fine. Give this phone back where you found it, 'kay? Its my boss', and he wont cut me very-much slack if I just hang up on everyone that tries to donate artifacts.

[mrartefactstorage]

Who is your boss? Is my dad? This is not how his– phone looks.

[Slightly broken English, clearly he wasn't ready to talk to someone exclusively in that language.]

My dad is- not here? And my mom. Can you call them?

[eryntheartifact]

[She sits down onto the receptions-desk, which is met with a very irritated Rosie wacking Eryns back with a security-camera television remote. They dont even have security cameras.]

Is, is this like, one'uh those things where you like, you, become a tiny-little-baby-child? Like the ones I had? Where the magical people, they errh, they come in, and they—, ow!

[Rosie wacks the back of Eryns head with the remote, and she jumps off of the desk, landing on her slippers with a rather slippery (pun intended) sound.]

I'm going, I'm going! Gaah, .. anyways, uuh, do you know how to drive a car?

[No, he's eight years old. Why would he know how to drive a car? You dont even know how to drive a car. She shuffles back up the stairs into, this time, her own cluttered office.]

[mrartefactstorage]

I-I don't... You have to call them, call them! Tell them they were gon' take me to the- the museum, 'cause we could go where I wanted! Instead I'm in a house I don't know!

[Is he...? Oh yes, he's stomping around the house, calling for them. Shooing off his own cat, who sounds hungry, slamming and kicking.]

I want my mum here, tell her she was going to wake me up!

[eryntheartifact]

[She nods, sitting down at her raggedy chair, and throwing a blanket over her lap. She sets her phone down onto her desk.]

Ohhkay, I dunno who yer' parents are. You're gonna have to be more specific.

[She's not great with kids, evidently. Eryn folds her legs, chair shifting (and nearly breaking, its very old) beneath her weight.]

D'you have their names?, or like, phone numbers? Preferrably both?

[mrartefactstorage]

My dad's name is Oliver Hodge, my mum's called Daisy... She uses her last name, but she likes being called Mrs Hodge too. I-I know her number, it's...

[He repeats a number sequence outloud like he's been taught to repeat it over and over. It leads to a phone that has been disconnected for years.]

You can get them, right? Tell them they forgot! I want them here!

[eryntheartifact]

[The indistinct sound of a very heavy object being lifted, slammed into a table, and then sifted through, can be heard from the other line. She sighs through her teeth.]

Yyyiiikees. Right. Uh, ..

[She scratches her chin. "Quite a kerfuffle", she thinks. "What even is a kerfuffle?" "Am I spelling that right? Kkkeerrfuffel? Curfuffel?". She shakes her head, hair whipping the irritated eye growing from her nape.]

Your parents, they aaaree, super on-their-way. Alright? They're uuuh, picking up your birthday cake. Its late because its so big, and tall, and, .. birthday. Alright. So just, calm down, little boy.

[She makes a "shoo"ing away motion with her hand, before realizing Silvester cant see her, and, at his state, even if he did, he would not take it well.]

[mrartefactstorage]

You're lying! They forgot! [Silvester's parents are still alive, by the way. Not kidnapped or taken or missing or burnt to a crisp. They're just a retired old couple having lunch at their neighbor's house. Absolutely unaware that their son is throwing a tantrum the kind they haven't seen in 22 years.]

If they were getting me cake, I would have seen it! They always let me pick it, I do, but they didn't yesterday, so they forgot! You have to call them! Call them now!!

[Let me, the narrator, also remind you that he's yelling all this into his own phone, where their phone numbers are surely listed. He could call them himself. Actually, his dad is usually waiting for him to call at this hour.]

[eryntheartifact]

[She flinched away from the phone, younger-Silvesters screechy, upset voice, hurting her eardrums. She'd put her phone on full volume aswell, yeesh.]

No, no, calm down, heeey, calm down!

[She picks the phone up from off the desk, lifting it close-up to her mouth, attempting to speak clearly over Silvester. She stomps her foot, equally as frustrated.]

Listen, I cant exactly do anything, can I? I barely even know you, neither your mom and dad.

[She pauses. Eryn is considering what to say. She'd offer to drive to his house and babysit, maybe actually make him a birthday cake, but for obvious reasons she cannot.]

They're at the birthday-cake store buying you a suprise birthday-cake, and will be back after they buy it with all of their money because you deserve super expensive birthday-stuffs. Yeah?

[Sure, that amounts to making an actual, real-life, physical cake. Maybe when he turns fully-grown she'll buy him something. No, she wont make one. For, again, obvious reasons.]

[mrartefactstorage]

[And he finally stops yelling, instead resorting to this audible pout.]

They said– they said they won't spend so much money on my birthday anymore 'cause I'm too old now.

[She can hear him wandering the house now. Opening drawers, dragging- is he dragging a chair? He's climbing up on a chair. A cat can be heard complaining, and he shushes it quite rudely.]

No more pool, or bouncy castles, none of that. And- and I said, "take me to the museum still!" and they said yes, but it's already ten, so we're already late, it's dumb now! And it's their fault!

[He opens a cabinet and looks for something. Clinking.]

And my mug isn't here! They took my mug away too!

[eryntheartifact]

[She places the phone back down, with a clank, and then the slight accidentall click of its keypad. She presses her fingers against her forehead, exhasperatedly.]

Uh-huh, yeah, but, you are old enough to understand why they wouldnt get you all'sat, though, arent you? Bouncy-castles and, pools, they cost a lotta money.

[She lifts her head, looking around her office for a mug, at the mention of one. She hoards kitchenware, understandably. Its hard to find anything clean, bloodless, and useable down in the archives. She grabs a ceramic mug, with its handle chipped off.]

Theres more mugs around, I'm sure. Here, can you hear that?

[Clink.]

Even I've got one, and I'm not even a birthday-boy such as yourself. Mugs are everywhere! Look in the cupboards, if you're tall enough.

[She pauses, contemplating Silvester being tall enough. She's not sure how old they are, at the moment, and she cant exactly find out from the remote location of her office.]

..and if you arent, theres probably some lying around the sink or kitchenette, right?

[mrartefactstorage]

No, no, there are things here! All this stuff, I know what it is! It's at my house! But this isn't my house!

[The funniest thing about Silvester moving abroad is that his parents handed him almost any old furniture, including glassware, they could think of rather than letting him buy everything from scratch. A loving gesture, really, though it did feel like being given hand-me-downs at the time. And his parents replaced everything almost immediately.]

I understand now, I am at a thief's house! They stole from the house, and then me too! And maybe also this stinky cat!

[Doctor is still meowing in the background every few seconds. This kid has no idea he is so close to the kibble bag. Silvester climbs off the chair.]

That's it, I'm gonna eat this guy's breakfast now, and they can't stop me! They're the ones who lost me, and I want cornetto!

[Sounds of rummaging in the fridge begin.]

Oh, jam!

[Sounds of a jar of perfectly good jam being opened carelessly and partially spilled on the floor.]

Oh.

Can cats digest jam?

[eryntheartifact]

[She pushes the phone farther away from her, pausing dangerously close to the slopen edge of her desk. Their voice is squeaky, as comes with being a little kid, and speaking through twenty-year-old broken phone. The squeakiness is, to say the least, more than unpleasent.]

Uuh, no, it is your house. You're in your house right now. Theres no such thing, Sil, you havent been stolen, just, uuuhh, eergh.

[She thinks about it, thinks really hard, then gives up and types away on her computer. "Can cats eat jam?" Actually, her search was closer to "kan katz it gem?", but, her computer seemed to understand it better than she could. She shakes her hear, no, mirroring the answer she'd recieved from her search.]

Cats cant eat jam, no. But, they can eat Kibble. And small amounts of fish, if you make sure its animal-friendly nonfat non-vegetable based and, whatnot. Ooh, says some cats can eat bread, thats cool. You could feed your cat a sandwich! Actually, no, thats wrong, dont do that. Stomach problems.

[mrartefactstorage]

Vai via! Via, via, su.

[It sounds like he's kicking, or at least waving his foot at Doc, who probably got too close to the spill and was starting to sniff around. But Doctor is not only kid-trained, he's a former trash-digging cat. He wasn't going to try it anyway, he just heard the word "breakfast" and thought it was about his. Two hours late now, by the way.]

I know cats can eat Kibble, I have a cat at home, her name is Pip! And she's not fat and annoying like this one!

[He only half-listened to her. Might've been too busy getting his hands on the milk and bread slices.]

These expiration dates are really weird. Bread can't last this long.

[It's normal bread.]

It's impossible, chemically. My mom says it's still fine to eat some stuff if you cut out the part that looks moldy, but that's not how spores works. Also, then I'd have half of a slice of bread, plus a normal slice! If I cut the other slice in half too to make a whole one piece of bread, I'd still have another half left over, and the cycle would go on forever!

[This is still an eight year old waddling around in oversized pajamas.]

[eryntheartifact]

[She's also, honestly, only half-listening to Silvesters tangents. She's not exactly interested in his museumless birthday, nor what his mother thinks about moldy bread. Actually, maybe she does, she's not sure about how that works, either.]

Okay, okay, Silvester? Silvester, buddy? How about, you go on the phone, right? You hang up this one, and you go on the phone again, and you call someone who can come to your house, and, figure the whole thing out?, yeah?

[She'd offer to call Sarah, or Nikola or Daniel, but, seeing as how he's a child, his skin is probably very soft and harvestable. What? Its gross, but its true. Besides, children shouldnt be smoked near. She wipes her temple, which has, since Silvesters called her, collected a generous amount of nervous sweat.]

Uuhm, d'you know, d'you know any neighbors? Theres Tim, I'm sure they're around and willing to help'ya, although, no, you dont know them yet. Alright, how aaboouutt, your parents? Your, brother? Or sister? Ooor, any emergency contacts, d'you have any written down?

[She's not used much technology, other than a shotty cellphone, her computer, and printers from time-to-time, on the rare occasion Silvester or Martin cant. Therefore, trying to explain who and what to call proves to be difficult.]

You wouldnt call the police for this matter, so, what about firefighters? No. Hospital? Nnno, what're they supposed to do? Uh, Tim! Tims the best to call, though, again, you dont know who that is. I bet Annabelles got some ideas, but she's probably busy. Sarah? Not a chance, no, I've said this already, havent I?

[She has said that, yes. To herself. In her mind.]

Oh, I know! Yes, right, yyooou should caaaall, nope, nevermind. Fuck! Oh, sorry, I shouldnt swear. I'm sorry, please dont repeat that to your parents, by golly they scare me.

[She's never met them.]

Okay, how about you just stay put for now? Go sit on the sofa, make yourself a cuppa, a nice herbal one at that, sooner or later someone'll show up. Either Charlie, or Micheeaal, or Tiiimm, or, you dont know any of these people so it doesnt really matter.

[mrartefactstorage]

[It's the 5th of April.

It's Silvester's birthday. Also Easter Sunday. And he has risen. Silvester, I mean, but also Jesus if you celebrate. Anyway, Silvester has risen out of bed. After rolling off of it.]

OOMPH!

[Now, why would he fall out of a bed he has slept in for years with no incident? Because he tossed around a lot, that's why. Also, his legs got tangled in his pajamas and his attempts at kicking them off made him wiggle around like a seal.

He sits up now, very confused by the fact everything feels and looks a little too big around him, including his glasses on the nightstand. They slip off his face.

This all wouldn't actually be surprising if you saw him right now. Because why wouldn't everything be strange to him if he's not just turned... 8 years old?]

Ma'? Mamma?

[He wanders around the house after calling out for his parents for a while. He's huffing and puffing, saying pretty much what any spoiled little birthday boy would say: "Where are the presents? Why are you hiding? You said I could eat breakfast late and you'd wake me up!"

Finally realising that no one will come out to comfort him, he's started to cry. Loudly. All while still wandering around the house. Until he finds his own phone.]

[Dialing... Any number that comes up. Out of spite, for whoever left his phone there in his hands.]

[eryntheartifact]

[Riing, rrrriinngg, rrriiiiiinnnggg. Eryn picks up on the third. She's sitting on the floor, painting a comically-oversized chicken egg. Not for Easter, no, she doesnt celebrate. Eryns jewish! She just likes painting chicken eggs.]

Magnus Institute, artifacts storage department. What d'you want?

[She pauses, then stares at the contact number. Eryn chuckles and stands up, the shuffle of her slippers being heard through the calls-line. She opens the door, then steps out of Silvesters office, leaving a mess of acrylics and broken shells behind her.]

Ooh, wakey-wakey, grandpa. Finally decided to come into the office? Well, good, I'm tired of answering your calls. I'll come and open the gate for ya.

[She doesnt wait for him to answer, walking down the hallway, pausing, and instead opting for the scenic route. Through the ventilation of his office. She falls with a light "thump" into the first-floors reception.]

[mrartefactstorage]

[But he's not there. He's still at home, somehow on negative points of his usual checklist to get ready. And he's still on the other end, trying to form a sentence.]

He- Hello? Who is... Who does this- I am calling from a house with one floor- whose tablet is this?

[It's a normal phone.]

Is it my mom's? Is she there?

[eryntheartifact]

[Another pause from Eryn, and then a loud, long-suffering inhale. She leans her arm, bruised from the slight fall, against the reception desk, papers sliding around and falling to the floor.]

Right, who is this? Y'sound too young to be that Charlie, did you steal this phone? Thats not a very nice thing to do, buddy. What, Rosie?

[She whispers to someone, the receptionist, who seems to be interrupting her conversation, with faint mentions of "dust" and "how did you get here through the vents" and "did you break your arm". Nothing important.]

No, no, its fine. Give this phone back where you found it, 'kay? Its my boss', and he wont cut me very-much slack if I just hang up on everyone that tries to donate artifacts.

[mrartefactstorage]

Who is your boss? Is my dad? This is not how his– phone looks.

[Slightly broken English, clearly he wasn't ready to talk to someone exclusively in that language.]

My dad is- not here? And my mom. Can you call them?

[eryntheartifact]

[She sits down onto the receptions-desk, which is met with a very irritated Rosie wacking Eryns back with a security-camera television remote. They dont even have security cameras.]

Is, is this like, one'uh those things where you like, you, become a tiny-little-baby-child? Like the ones I had? Where the magical people, they errh, they come in, and they—, ow!

[Rosie wacks the back of Eryns head with the remote, and she jumps off of the desk, landing on her slippers with a rather slippery (pun intended) sound.]

I'm going, I'm going! Gaah, .. anyways, uuh, do you know how to drive a car?

[No, he's eight years old. Why would he know how to drive a car? You dont even know how to drive a car. She shuffles back up the stairs into, this time, her own cluttered office.]

[mrartefactstorage]

I-I don't... You have to call them, call them! Tell them they were gon' take me to the- the museum, 'cause we could go where I wanted! Instead I'm in a house I don't know!

[Is he...? Oh yes, he's stomping around the house, calling for them. Shooing off his own cat, who sounds hungry, slamming and kicking.]

I want my mum here, tell her she was going to wake me up!

[eryntheartifact]

[She nods, sitting down at her raggedy chair, and throwing a blanket over her lap. She sets her phone down onto her desk.]

Ohhkay, I dunno who yer' parents are. You're gonna have to be more specific.

[She's not great with kids, evidently. Eryn folds her legs, chair shifting (and nearly breaking, its very old) beneath her weight.]

D'you have their names?, or like, phone numbers? Preferrably both?

[mrartefactstorage]

My dad's name is Oliver Hodge, my mum's called Daisy... She uses her last name, but she likes being called Mrs Hodge too. I-I know her number, it's...

[He repeats a number sequence outloud like he's been taught to repeat it over and over. It leads to a phone that has been disconnected for years.]

You can get them, right? Tell them they forgot! I want them here!

[eryntheartifact]

[The indistinct sound of a very heavy object being lifted, slammed into a table, and then sifted through, can be heard from the other line. She sighs through her teeth.]

Yyyiiikees. Right. Uh, ..

[She scratches her chin. "Quite a kerfuffle", she thinks. "What even is a kerfuffle?" "Am I spelling that right? Kkkeerrfuffel? Curfuffel?". She shakes her head, hair whipping the irritated eye growing from her nape.]

Your parents, they aaaree, super on-their-way. Alright? They're uuuh, picking up your birthday cake. Its late because its so big, and tall, and, .. birthday. Alright. So just, calm down, little boy.

[She makes a "shoo"ing away motion with her hand, before realizing Silvester cant see her, and, at his state, even if he did, he would not take it well.]

[mrartefactstorage]

You're lying! They forgot! [Silvester's parents are still alive, by the way. Not kidnapped or taken or missing or burnt to a crisp. They're just a retired old couple having lunch at their neighbor's house. Absolutely unaware that their son is throwing a tantrum the kind they haven't seen in 22 years.]

If they were getting me cake, I would have seen it! They always let me pick it, I do, but they didn't yesterday, so they forgot! You have to call them! Call them now!!

[Let me, the narrator, also remind you that he's yelling all this into his own phone, where their phone numbers are surely listed. He could call them himself. Actually, his dad is usually waiting for him to call at this hour.]

[eryntheartifact]

[She flinched away from the phone, younger-Silvesters screechy, upset voice, hurting her eardrums. She'd put her phone on full volume aswell, yeesh.]

No, no, calm down, heeey, calm down!

[She picks the phone up from off the desk, lifting it close-up to her mouth, attempting to speak clearly over Silvester. She stomps her foot, equally as frustrated.]

Listen, I cant exactly do anything, can I? I barely even know you, neither your mom and dad.

[She pauses. Eryn is considering what to say. She'd offer to drive to his house and babysit, maybe actually make him a birthday cake, but for obvious reasons she cannot.]

They're at the birthday-cake store buying you a suprise birthday-cake, and will be back after they buy it with all of their money because you deserve super expensive birthday-stuffs. Yeah?

[Sure, that amounts to making an actual, real-life, physical cake. Maybe when he turns fully-grown she'll buy him something. No, she wont make one. For, again, obvious reasons.]

[mrartefactstorage]

[And he finally stops yelling, instead resorting to this audible pout.]

They said– they said they won't spend so much money on my birthday anymore 'cause I'm too old now.

[She can hear him wandering the house now. Opening drawers, dragging- is he dragging a chair? He's climbing up on a chair. A cat can be heard complaining, and he shushes it quite rudely.]

No more pool, or bouncy castles, none of that. And- and I said, "take me to the museum still!" and they said yes, but it's already ten, so we're already late, it's dumb now! And it's their fault!

[He opens a cabinet and looks for something. Clinking.]

And my mug isn't here! They took my mug away too!

[eryntheartifact]

[She places the phone back down, with a clank, and then the slight accidentall click of its keypad. She presses her fingers against her forehead, exhasperatedly.]

Uh-huh, yeah, but, you are old enough to understand why they wouldnt get you all'sat, though, arent you? Bouncy-castles and, pools, they cost a lotta money.

[She lifts her head, looking around her office for a mug, at the mention of one. She hoards kitchenware, understandably. Its hard to find anything clean, bloodless, and useable down in the archives. She grabs a ceramic mug, with its handle chipped off.]

Theres more mugs around, I'm sure. Here, can you hear that?

[Clink.]

Even I've got one, and I'm not even a birthday-boy such as yourself. Mugs are everywhere! Look in the cupboards, if you're tall enough.

[She pauses, contemplating Silvester being tall enough. She's not sure how old they are, at the moment, and she cant exactly find out from the remote location of her office.]

..and if you arent, theres probably some lying around the sink or kitchenette, right?

[mrartefactstorage]

No, no, there are things here! All this stuff, I know what it is! It's at my house! But this isn't my house!

[The funniest thing about Silvester moving abroad is that his parents handed him almost any old furniture, including glassware, they could think of rather than letting him buy everything from scratch. A loving gesture, really, though it did feel like being given hand-me-downs at the time. And his parents replaced everything almost immediately.]

I understand now, I am at a thief's house! They stole from the house, and then me too! And maybe also this stinky cat!

[Doctor is still meowing in the background every few seconds. This kid has no idea he is so close to the kibble bag. Silvester climbs off the chair.]

That's it, I'm gonna eat this guy's breakfast now, and they can't stop me! They're the ones who lost me, and I want cornetto!

[Sounds of rummaging in the fridge begin.]

Oh, jam!

[Sounds of a jar of perfectly good jam being opened carelessly and partially spilled on the floor.]

Oh.

Can cats digest jam?

[eryntheartifact]

[She pushes the phone farther away from her, pausing dangerously close to the slopen edge of her desk. Their voice is squeaky, as comes with being a little kid, and speaking through twenty-year-old broken phone. The squeakiness is, to say the least, more than unpleasent.]

Uuh, no, it is your house. You're in your house right now. Theres no such thing, Sil, you havent been stolen, just, uuuhh, eergh.

[She thinks about it, thinks really hard, then gives up and types away on her computer. "Can cats eat jam?" Actually, her search was closer to "kan katz it gem?", but, her computer seemed to understand it better than she could. She shakes her hear, no, mirroring the answer she'd recieved from her search.]

Cats cant eat jam, no. But, they can eat Kibble. And small amounts of fish, if you make sure its animal-friendly nonfat non-vegetable based and, whatnot. Ooh, says some cats can eat bread, thats cool. You could feed your cat a sandwich! Actually, no, thats wrong, dont do that. Stomach problems.

[mrartefactstorage]

[It's the 5th of April.

It's Silvester's birthday. Also Easter Sunday. And he has risen. Silvester, I mean, but also Jesus if you celebrate. Anyway, Silvester has risen out of bed. After rolling off of it.]

OOMPH!

[Now, why would he fall out of a bed he has slept in for years with no incident? Because he tossed around a lot, that's why. Also, his legs got tangled in his pajamas and his attempts at kicking them off made him wiggle around like a seal.

He sits up now, very confused by the fact everything feels and looks a little too big around him, including his glasses on the nightstand. They slip off his face.

This all wouldn't actually be surprising if you saw him right now. Because why wouldn't everything be strange to him if he's not just turned... 8 years old?]

Ma'? Mamma?

[He wanders around the house after calling out for his parents for a while. He's huffing and puffing, saying pretty much what any spoiled little birthday boy would say: "Where are the presents? Why are you hiding? You said I could eat breakfast late and you'd wake me up!"

Finally realising that no one will come out to comfort him, he's started to cry. Loudly. All while still wandering around the house. Until he finds his own phone.]

[Dialing... Any number that comes up. Out of spite, for whoever left his phone there in his hands.]

[eryntheartifact]

[Riing, rrrriinngg, rrriiiiiinnnggg. Eryn picks up on the third. She's sitting on the floor, painting a comically-oversized chicken egg. Not for Easter, no, she doesnt celebrate. Eryns jewish! She just likes painting chicken eggs.]

Magnus Institute, artifacts storage department. What d'you want?

[She pauses, then stares at the contact number. Eryn chuckles and stands up, the shuffle of her slippers being heard through the calls-line. She opens the door, then steps out of Silvesters office, leaving a mess of acrylics and broken shells behind her.]

Ooh, wakey-wakey, grandpa. Finally decided to come into the office? Well, good, I'm tired of answering your calls. I'll come and open the gate for ya.

[She doesnt wait for him to answer, walking down the hallway, pausing, and instead opting for the scenic route. Through the ventilation of his office. She falls with a light "thump" into the first-floors reception.]

[mrartefactstorage]

[But he's not there. He's still at home, somehow on negative points of his usual checklist to get ready. And he's still on the other end, trying to form a sentence.]

He- Hello? Who is... Who does this- I am calling from a house with one floor- whose tablet is this?

[It's a normal phone.]

Is it my mom's? Is she there?

[eryntheartifact]

[Another pause from Eryn, and then a loud, long-suffering inhale. She leans her arm, bruised from the slight fall, against the reception desk, papers sliding around and falling to the floor.]

Right, who is this? Y'sound too young to be that Charlie, did you steal this phone? Thats not a very nice thing to do, buddy. What, Rosie?

[She whispers to someone, the receptionist, who seems to be interrupting her conversation, with faint mentions of "dust" and "how did you get here through the vents" and "did you break your arm". Nothing important.]

No, no, its fine. Give this phone back where you found it, 'kay? Its my boss', and he wont cut me very-much slack if I just hang up on everyone that tries to donate artifacts.

[mrartefactstorage]

Who is your boss? Is my dad? This is not how his– phone looks.

[Slightly broken English, clearly he wasn't ready to talk to someone exclusively in that language.]

My dad is- not here? And my mom. Can you call them?

[eryntheartifact]

[She sits down onto the receptions-desk, which is met with a very irritated Rosie wacking Eryns back with a security-camera television remote. They dont even have security cameras.]

Is, is this like, one'uh those things where you like, you, become a tiny-little-baby-child? Like the ones I had? Where the magical people, they errh, they come in, and they—, ow!

[Rosie wacks the back of Eryns head with the remote, and she jumps off of the desk, landing on her slippers with a rather slippery (pun intended) sound.]

I'm going, I'm going! Gaah, .. anyways, uuh, do you know how to drive a car?

[No, he's eight years old. Why would he know how to drive a car? You dont even know how to drive a car. She shuffles back up the stairs into, this time, her own cluttered office.]

[mrartefactstorage]

I-I don't... You have to call them, call them! Tell them they were gon' take me to the- the museum, 'cause we could go where I wanted! Instead I'm in a house I don't know!

[Is he...? Oh yes, he's stomping around the house, calling for them. Shooing off his own cat, who sounds hungry, slamming and kicking.]

I want my mum here, tell her she was going to wake me up!

[eryntheartifact]

[She nods, sitting down at her raggedy chair, and throwing a blanket over her lap. She sets her phone down onto her desk.]

Ohhkay, I dunno who yer' parents are. You're gonna have to be more specific.

[She's not great with kids, evidently. Eryn folds her legs, chair shifting (and nearly breaking, its very old) beneath her weight.]

D'you have their names?, or like, phone numbers? Preferrably both?

[mrartefactstorage]

My dad's name is Oliver Hodge, my mum's called Daisy... She uses her last name, but she likes being called Mrs Hodge too. I-I know her number, it's...

[He repeats a number sequence outloud like he's been taught to repeat it over and over. It leads to a phone that has been disconnected for years.]

You can get them, right? Tell them they forgot! I want them here!

[eryntheartifact]

[The indistinct sound of a very heavy object being lifted, slammed into a table, and then sifted through, can be heard from the other line. She sighs through her teeth.]

Yyyiiikees. Right. Uh, ..

[She scratches her chin. "Quite a kerfuffle", she thinks. "What even is a kerfuffle?" "Am I spelling that right? Kkkeerrfuffel? Curfuffel?". She shakes her head, hair whipping the irritated eye growing from her nape.]

Your parents, they aaaree, super on-their-way. Alright? They're uuuh, picking up your birthday cake. Its late because its so big, and tall, and, .. birthday. Alright. So just, calm down, little boy.

[She makes a "shoo"ing away motion with her hand, before realizing Silvester cant see her, and, at his state, even if he did, he would not take it well.]

[mrartefactstorage]

You're lying! They forgot! [Silvester's parents are still alive, by the way. Not kidnapped or taken or missing or burnt to a crisp. They're just a retired old couple having lunch at their neighbor's house. Absolutely unaware that their son is throwing a tantrum the kind they haven't seen in 22 years.]

If they were getting me cake, I would have seen it! They always let me pick it, I do, but they didn't yesterday, so they forgot! You have to call them! Call them now!!

[Let me, the narrator, also remind you that he's yelling all this into his own phone, where their phone numbers are surely listed. He could call them himself. Actually, his dad is usually waiting for him to call at this hour.]

[eryntheartifact]

[She flinched away from the phone, younger-Silvesters screechy, upset voice, hurting her eardrums. She'd put her phone on full volume aswell, yeesh.]

No, no, calm down, heeey, calm down!

[She picks the phone up from off the desk, lifting it close-up to her mouth, attempting to speak clearly over Silvester. She stomps her foot, equally as frustrated.]

Listen, I cant exactly do anything, can I? I barely even know you, neither your mom and dad.

[She pauses. Eryn is considering what to say. She'd offer to drive to his house and babysit, maybe actually make him a birthday cake, but for obvious reasons she cannot.]

They're at the birthday-cake store buying you a suprise birthday-cake, and will be back after they buy it with all of their money because you deserve super expensive birthday-stuffs. Yeah?

[Sure, that amounts to making an actual, real-life, physical cake. Maybe when he turns fully-grown she'll buy him something. No, she wont make one. For, again, obvious reasons.]

[mrartefactstorage]

[And he finally stops yelling, instead resorting to this audible pout.]

They said– they said they won't spend so much money on my birthday anymore 'cause I'm too old now.

[She can hear him wandering the house now. Opening drawers, dragging- is he dragging a chair? He's climbing up on a chair. A cat can be heard complaining, and he shushes it quite rudely.]

No more pool, or bouncy castles, none of that. And- and I said, "take me to the museum still!" and they said yes, but it's already ten, so we're already late, it's dumb now! And it's their fault!

[He opens a cabinet and looks for something. Clinking.]

And my mug isn't here! They took my mug away too!

[eryntheartifact]

[She places the phone back down, with a clank, and then the slight accidentall click of its keypad. She presses her fingers against her forehead, exhasperatedly.]

Uh-huh, yeah, but, you are old enough to understand why they wouldnt get you all'sat, though, arent you? Bouncy-castles and, pools, they cost a lotta money.

[She lifts her head, looking around her office for a mug, at the mention of one. She hoards kitchenware, understandably. Its hard to find anything clean, bloodless, and useable down in the archives. She grabs a ceramic mug, with its handle chipped off.]

Theres more mugs around, I'm sure. Here, can you hear that?

[Clink.]

Even I've got one, and I'm not even a birthday-boy such as yourself. Mugs are everywhere! Look in the cupboards, if you're tall enough.

[She pauses, contemplating Silvester being tall enough. She's not sure how old they are, at the moment, and she cant exactly find out from the remote location of her office.]

..and if you arent, theres probably some lying around the sink or kitchenette, right?

[mrartefactstorage]

[It's the 5th of April.

It's Silvester's birthday. Also Easter Sunday. And he has risen. Silvester, I mean, but also Jesus if you celebrate. Anyway, Silvester has risen out of bed. After rolling off of it.]

OOMPH!

[Now, why would he fall out of a bed he has slept in for years with no incident? Because he tossed around a lot, that's why. Also, his legs got tangled in his pajamas and his attempts at kicking them off made him wiggle around like a seal.

He sits up now, very confused by the fact everything feels and looks a little too big around him, including his glasses on the nightstand. They slip off his face.

This all wouldn't actually be surprising if you saw him right now. Because why wouldn't everything be strange to him if he's not just turned... 8 years old?]

Ma'? Mamma?

[He wanders around the house after calling out for his parents for a while. He's huffing and puffing, saying pretty much what any spoiled little birthday boy would say: "Where are the presents? Why are you hiding? You said I could eat breakfast late and you'd wake me up!"

Finally realising that no one will come out to comfort him, he's started to cry. Loudly. All while still wandering around the house. Until he finds his own phone.]

[Dialing... Any number that comes up. Out of spite, for whoever left his phone there in his hands.]

[eryntheartifact]

[Riing, rrrriinngg, rrriiiiiinnnggg. Eryn picks up on the third. She's sitting on the floor, painting a comically-oversized chicken egg. Not for Easter, no, she doesnt celebrate. Eryns jewish! She just likes painting chicken eggs.]

Magnus Institute, artifacts storage department. What d'you want?

[She pauses, then stares at the contact number. Eryn chuckles and stands up, the shuffle of her slippers being heard through the calls-line. She opens the door, then steps out of Silvesters office, leaving a mess of acrylics and broken shells behind her.]

Ooh, wakey-wakey, grandpa. Finally decided to come into the office? Well, good, I'm tired of answering your calls. I'll come and open the gate for ya.

[She doesnt wait for him to answer, walking down the hallway, pausing, and instead opting for the scenic route. Through the ventilation of his office. She falls with a light "thump" into the first-floors reception.]

[mrartefactstorage]

[But he's not there. He's still at home, somehow on negative points of his usual checklist to get ready. And he's still on the other end, trying to form a sentence.]

He- Hello? Who is... Who does this- I am calling from a house with one floor- whose tablet is this?

[It's a normal phone.]

Is it my mom's? Is she there?

[eryntheartifact]

[Another pause from Eryn, and then a loud, long-suffering inhale. She leans her arm, bruised from the slight fall, against the reception desk, papers sliding around and falling to the floor.]

Right, who is this? Y'sound too young to be that Charlie, did you steal this phone? Thats not a very nice thing to do, buddy. What, Rosie?

[She whispers to someone, the receptionist, who seems to be interrupting her conversation, with faint mentions of "dust" and "how did you get here through the vents" and "did you break your arm". Nothing important.]

No, no, its fine. Give this phone back where you found it, 'kay? Its my boss', and he wont cut me very-much slack if I just hang up on everyone that tries to donate artifacts.

[mrartefactstorage]

Who is your boss? Is my dad? This is not how his– phone looks.

[Slightly broken English, clearly he wasn't ready to talk to someone exclusively in that language.]

My dad is- not here? And my mom. Can you call them?

[eryntheartifact]

[She sits down onto the receptions-desk, which is met with a very irritated Rosie wacking Eryns back with a security-camera television remote. They dont even have security cameras.]

Is, is this like, one'uh those things where you like, you, become a tiny-little-baby-child? Like the ones I had? Where the magical people, they errh, they come in, and they—, ow!

[Rosie wacks the back of Eryns head with the remote, and she jumps off of the desk, landing on her slippers with a rather slippery (pun intended) sound.]

I'm going, I'm going! Gaah, .. anyways, uuh, do you know how to drive a car?

[No, he's eight years old. Why would he know how to drive a car? You dont even know how to drive a car. She shuffles back up the stairs into, this time, her own cluttered office.]

[mrartefactstorage]

I-I don't... You have to call them, call them! Tell them they were gon' take me to the- the museum, 'cause we could go where I wanted! Instead I'm in a house I don't know!

[Is he...? Oh yes, he's stomping around the house, calling for them. Shooing off his own cat, who sounds hungry, slamming and kicking.]

I want my mum here, tell her she was going to wake me up!

[eryntheartifact]

[She nods, sitting down at her raggedy chair, and throwing a blanket over her lap. She sets her phone down onto her desk.]

Ohhkay, I dunno who yer' parents are. You're gonna have to be more specific.

[She's not great with kids, evidently. Eryn folds her legs, chair shifting (and nearly breaking, its very old) beneath her weight.]

D'you have their names?, or like, phone numbers? Preferrably both?

[mrartefactstorage]

My dad's name is Oliver Hodge, my mum's called Daisy... She uses her last name, but she likes being called Mrs Hodge too. I-I know her number, it's...

[He repeats a number sequence outloud like he's been taught to repeat it over and over. It leads to a phone that has been disconnected for years.]

You can get them, right? Tell them they forgot! I want them here!

[eryntheartifact]

[The indistinct sound of a very heavy object being lifted, slammed into a table, and then sifted through, can be heard from the other line. She sighs through her teeth.]

Yyyiiikees. Right. Uh, ..

[She scratches her chin. "Quite a kerfuffle", she thinks. "What even is a kerfuffle?" "Am I spelling that right? Kkkeerrfuffel? Curfuffel?". She shakes her head, hair whipping the irritated eye growing from her nape.]

Your parents, they aaaree, super on-their-way. Alright? They're uuuh, picking up your birthday cake. Its late because its so big, and tall, and, .. birthday. Alright. So just, calm down, little boy.

[She makes a "shoo"ing away motion with her hand, before realizing Silvester cant see her, and, at his state, even if he did, he would not take it well.]

[mrartefactstorage]

You're lying! They forgot! [Silvester's parents are still alive, by the way. Not kidnapped or taken or missing or burnt to a crisp. They're just a retired old couple having lunch at their neighbor's house. Absolutely unaware that their son is throwing a tantrum the kind they haven't seen in 22 years.]

If they were getting me cake, I would have seen it! They always let me pick it, I do, but they didn't yesterday, so they forgot! You have to call them! Call them now!!

[Let me, the narrator, also remind you that he's yelling all this into his own phone, where their phone numbers are surely listed. He could call them himself. Actually, his dad is usually waiting for him to call at this hour.]

[eryntheartifact]

[She flinched away from the phone, younger-Silvesters screechy, upset voice, hurting her eardrums. She'd put her phone on full volume aswell, yeesh.]

No, no, calm down, heeey, calm down!

[She picks the phone up from off the desk, lifting it close-up to her mouth, attempting to speak clearly over Silvester. She stomps her foot, equally as frustrated.]

Listen, I cant exactly do anything, can I? I barely even know you, neither your mom and dad.

[She pauses. Eryn is considering what to say. She'd offer to drive to his house and babysit, maybe actually make him a birthday cake, but for obvious reasons she cannot.]

They're at the birthday-cake store buying you a suprise birthday-cake, and will be back after they buy it with all of their money because you deserve super expensive birthday-stuffs. Yeah?

[Sure, that amounts to making an actual, real-life, physical cake. Maybe when he turns fully-grown she'll buy him something. No, she wont make one. For, again, obvious reasons.]