#blancfortis

[zeshea]

Putting Flynn on hiatus, I can't seem to write him these days.

Noted.

- Demon Commander

[tajujinkaku]

dealings

Someone slipped a letter under the door of Werewombat Ward 7. It consisted of a single piece of paper folded in half, with words written in an elegant script. It was inked in violet, and concise - not only in words, but writing - sharp flourishes falling into place in every line.

Flynn.

I have read the recent article in the Sh'tori press that pertains to you. Do not be alarmed. I am not here to mock you, only to engage in a proper civilized exchange.

I know of a way to heal your lady friend.

But of course, it is not exactly easy. I will require compensation - of a type which is accessible to you with minimal effort.

If you are interested, be outside your apartment at 7am tomorrow.

There seemed to be no sign-off name nor return address.

[tajujinkaku]

late night conversations with timp, ep. 1

timp: What if Jonathan and Walter both tried to seduce Isabeau

timp: And all fails

timp: And then Flynn just waltzes in and she falls into his arms

eon: i think the other two are like 'flynn what the shit who died and made you a ladykiller'

timp: And he just silently walks away. Isabeau swoons

timp: Jonathan and Walter fall into despair and crumble onto the floor

eon: sorry gentlemen isabeau only has eyes for flynn

eon: i swear she's asexual and aromantic

timp: She's Flynnsexual

timp: No contest

eon: LOL

timp: How to be ISABEAU'S HUSBANDO, THE CHECKLIST:

timp: 1. Are you Flynn? (Warning: This is a deal breaker.)

eon: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

eon: this should be on tumblr

[tajujinkaku]

suffocation - isabeau | flynn

She did not know what to do.

After what had transpired, her conscious mind had shut down. It filled her mindscape with the mental equivalent of white noise - meaningless sensations and images, designed only to occupy any available space. Any coherent thoughts she tried to form slipped out of focus, like water through her fingers. 

Drip.

She was vaguely aware of her surroundings - the living room of an apartment completely empty, one she had all to herself.  A native had led her here, evidently disturbed by her lack of response. Burroughs had stepped in to fill up the void in the conversation, and the AI probably knew much more than she did. But that didn't matter, not anymore.

There were no demons here. Thus, no reminders.

Drip.

The silence pressed in on her from all sides, driving away any thoughts that struggled into existence. 

A table was in front of her, a black shape that occupied a quarter of her field of vision. A splash of red interrupted it somewhere in the centre. Her scarf. She didn't recall removing it, but it was still there. Her gauntlet was on the table as well, next to it. Burroughs was silent, characteristically so for the AI.

There were pinpricks of pain scattered somewhere on her palms - she had probably injured herself unintentionally - but their existence was welcome. They drew her attention away from that other pain, an agony inked exquisitely into her veins and kept delicately in check by force of will alone. It was something that could not be summed up in words - a pain that was merely mental, but somehow exerted its influence as if it was physically present.

Drip.

As long as she did not remember, it would stay lurking in the background, behind the glass wall that her subconscious had thrown up. As long as she did not remember, it  would not have happened.

[zeshea]

//here's flynn! Requesting to be placed with Isabeau hehe (this is my last character i swear)

Another dead person? Seriously, I’m slowly running out ways to make fun of you all. Okay, that was a total lie, but I was told to try a bit of positive feedback from now to not traumatize people too much. So, here you go:

What do you say, very encouraging, right?

Oh, and here are the keys for Werewombat Ward #7 where you can meet up with that other dead loser Isabeau. Enjoy eternity!

- the Overlord