#liam's log

[themanormystery]

Liam’s Log: October 8th

It's been almost a week since we've gotten a call from Anna.

Dakota's frustrated, but not that worried— Evidently the cell service is atrocious over at the manor, and they're still able to communicate over wifi when Anna makes it to a coffee shop.

She’s doing fine apparently— working hard on cleaning the house and exploring the land. So far she's discovered a miniature golf course, a life-sized outdoor chess set, and a swimming pool. She described the parlor in great detail, mentioning a huge fireplace and white-cloth-covered couches. Although she did find some scattered poker chips and a few playing cards… guess the former residents liked to party.

She still can't Facetime. The wifi's too bad, she says, not to mention the lack of privacy. The locals are nosy and don't trust her.

Everytime I ask her about that she brushes it off. They'll warm to her, she insists. Superstition isn't as powerful as people think it is. They'll start to like her soon.

I don't have the heart to tell her how wrong she is.

I've been keeping busy as well, when Dakota and I aren't huddled around his laptop.

In my research, what I've discovered is that Emma Bailey— Anna's great-aunt— died in or near Markiplier Manor, and her body was never found. Having died along with her was the actor Markiplier, a woman named Celine (believed to be the sister to the mayor), Markiplier's brother Col. William T. Barnum, and the mayor himself: Damien Crowe— although there are enough resulting reported sightings of him that he became somewhat of an urban legend. Two men, the butler and the chef, are believed to have escaped.

All of this according to reports, of course. Gossip articles, newspapers.

Propaganda and lies. As usual.

I know the truth, but only part of the truth— which would bring me back to square one if it weren't for one variable.

Anna.

Precious, curious, determined Anna.

I may have the resources but she has the intuition. I know she'll find something. She has to.

I'm starting to run out of time.

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Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad @markired@blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken@gravitykaz@jojored22@neverisadork @withjust-a-bite@221biotchplease @gmcfyuffins @the-asexual-reaper@satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

[themanormystery]

Liam’s Log: October 30th

He found my journals. 

I was stupid and left my door open and he found them. He recognized my handwriting.

Cognitive recalibration paired with a basic short-term amnesiac. He's on the couch. My door is closed and my journals are put away. When he wakes up, I'll feed him the story and he'll buy it. It'll be fine.

It's routine. It's normal, I've done this before.

Why are my hands shaking so bad?

I have to sacrifice something for it to work. I have to tell him something, something about me.

I usually tell him something harmless. My favorite color, the name of my first pet.

It's been too long. We know each other too well. Nothing left is harmless.

Hurry up, Anna.

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Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad@markired@blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken@gravitykaz@jojored22@neverisadork @withjust-a-bite@221biotchplease@gmcfyuffins @the-asexual-reaper@satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

[themanormystery]

Liam’s Log: October 17th

Anna's stopped contacting us.

I'm trying to tell Dakota that there's nothing to worry about, and just to wait a bit, that she'll get in contact with us soon. But he keeps calling and texting and messaging, almost obsessively.

In any other circumstance, I'd probably tease and/or berate him about it. Overprotective much? Stop being a clingy boyfriend. Give her space. This is what she wanted.

But I don't. He's worried, and for good reason.

This isn't like her.

No matter how independent she wants to be, Anna would never intentionally make us worried sick about her.

I remember one time she was out at a friend's house for a party, and stayed too late and had to stay over. She called us twice: once to let us know where she was, and once to say goodnight.

And again, when she was planning to go to some work formal, but couldn't because she was sick, she texted Dakota to let him know, even though he wasn't even going. She just wanted him to know what was going on.

We've never asked her to do this. Dakota has always respected and encouraged her autonomy, and he may check up on her, but he never demands that she check in. If they're busy, they could go a day or so without even texting, and then pick right back up when they're free again.

But two weeks and nothing?

I tell him that she's fine, that her wi-fi is bad, that her cell service is bad, that she's safe and she has people around her who can help her if she's in trouble.

I'm lying through my teeth and we both know it. Dakota hasn't challenged me yet, but he wants to, I can tell.

To make matters worse, he's starting to get suspicious.

This isn't the first time it's happened. Most of the time I'm able to play it off. Nerves, lack of sleep, not eating well. I can give a million excuses for my behavior.

But there comes a point when he stops buying it.

It's happened faster than normal this time— although these are slightly unique circumstances. It's easy enough to deal with him reading my journals or finding my "collection". Short-term memory wipe, blame a fall, a concussion, and low iron. Make dinner and coddle him a bit, and I'm back to my normal eccentric self and he's back to rolling his eyes.

But gradual suspicion is different. You can't fix that with a short-term memory wipe, because it just comes back. It's like a weed— it won't die until you pull it up by its roots, and I'm not willing to do that…yet.

It's not fair to him, or Anna, for me to leave again.

But if things go south before I find what I'm looking for, I may have to.

Here's hoping I'm not forced to resort to that.

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Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad@markired@blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken@gravitykaz@jojored22@neverisadork @withjust-a-bite@221biotchplease@gmcfyuffins @the-asexual-reaper@satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

[themanormystery]

Liam’s Log: October 1st

Anna left today. Dakota fussed as usual, and Anna laughed it off as usual. We helped carry her bags to the car— he tried again to convince her to let him go with her, but it was already decided. He has an internship and a demanding job. And they didn't say so, but I know Anna wants him to be around for my sake. Make sure I'm eating and showering and breathing. They try to sneak around with it but I know what they're up to. It's always been that way and I stopped complaining a long time ago.

They made a show of kissing in front of me, just to gross me out. I teased right back and mimed snapping a photograph, which I guess they thought was funny. Dak said something like "Every night like we agreed?" and Anna smiled her big cute smile and said "As often as we can."

I hate when she smiles like that. It's too cute and too genuine. We're both wrapped around her little finger and that gets her into trouble far too often. I start slacking, and I can't afford to slack. Especially not now.

After that Dakota fussed some more about night safety and road safety and stranger danger. Anna patted his face reassuringly, smiling that smile again, and managed to convince him that she would be perfectly fine and would follow all of his advice and everything would be okay.

Miraculously, he was placated, and they kissed again, for real this time.

Eventually Anna pulled away from Dakota and held her arms out to me. I hugged her, maybe a bit too hard. It's not like I'm never gonna see her again— we all always find each other eventually.

So why was I hugging her so tightly?

She laughed at me, of course— scolded me gently. "You'll come and visit," she said. Of course, obviously. We'd visit her.

We'll visit her.

Dakota stood standing there for a while, watching her drive away. I didn't— I got in Dakota's Prius as soon as Anna stopped waving behind her.

I had the aux cord plugged into my phone and Hamilton was playing by the time he got in the driver's side. He shot me a look and I shrugged. "It's what Anna would want."

I could tell he wanted to argue, but he stopped. "Yeah."

He's been quiet ever since we got home. I'm trying not to bother him, but that also comes with not being able to comfort him.

Oh, well. That stopped being worthwhile a long time ago. He'll get over it. Probably as soon as she calls him for their nightly chat.

I'll yell something super inappropriate when that happens— that always makes Anna laugh and Dakota roll his eyes. Or glare at me. Either reaction is satisfactory.

I'm doubling my efforts on finding out more about Emma. There are too many coincidences for them to be just… coincidences.

There's something else. Something more. This time… this time seems different.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up. But that's hard when hope is all you have left.

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Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad @markired @blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken @gravitykaz@jojored22@neverisadork @withjust-a-bite@221biotchplease @gmcfyuffins @the-asexual-reaper @satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

[liamsjourney-blog]

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Some Time in June. Or July. I don't remember.

I've been on this hell known as a boat for a week, or more, or less. I don't know anymore. I've spent most of my time leaning over the edge of the ship attempting to switch the placement of my lungs and my colon. When I am not feeding the fish the majority of my last meal I am in my bunk with a cold sweat, shaking. Suffice it to say, the last fortnight has not been pleasant in the least.  Alastair, in my absence, has certainly stepped up and done his bit in keeping me updated, as consciousness allows, and keeping the expedition members in check. Alastair did alert me to a disturbing fact the other day however. Evidently Jenkins, the damned kid, has found a way into the alcohol supply and has gotten absolutely knackered. We've tried to keep him from rum and other spirits for a while now, fearing the consequences of their discovery. The reprehensible part of the whole issue is that he's been giving some of his beverages to Sean as well as drowning his own sorrows. Next time we make it to the Americas, Jenkin's mother is going to be extraordinarily cross with me. And that is why Alastair is going to be the one delivering that news. The voyage is going as well as it can. Alastair tells me we are making good time, and are estimated to arrive to the area the islands have been seen within two weeks or so. I'm not quite sure what to expect upon getting to the island, or islands. There is really little more than a rumor to tell us that there is something out there, something potentially valuable. So, for the honour of the Empire, we shall pursue the lead, for glory and adventure. Time for a bit of time on deck now. I pray this sickness passes soon. Liam Captain of His Majesty's 3rd Cartography Unit

    (Insert from Alistair): 

Like hell I’m telling Jenkin’s mother. Jenkins is a big boy and drink what he wants. If Liam sends me to tell his mother, I’ll just say the Captian’s the one gave him the liquor. He’ll be too sick to notice anyway. Jenkins better stop giving it to Sean though; last thing we need’s a drunk, half-sick dog running around our ship. Poor boy. I swear the crewmen would have him thrown overboard sometimes if I weren’t watching out for him… make that both of them.

Alistair, Second in Command for the His Majesty’s 3rd Cartography Unit

[liamsjourney-blog]

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June 5th, 1904 For Her Majesty's Cartography Unit Somewhere off the coast of South Africa

Our party is currently off the coast of South Africa, having resupplied and boarded a new ship in Durbin. This being the first entry in a new log book, I had best review the events of the last month. The last log book was lost with the HMS Roebuck off Madagascar on the return trip from India. It was... disposed of... when I knew that the privateer scum were going to take the ship. We gave as good as we got in the battle, but the ship was lost, as well as some 15 of the crew. We were left with a damn long row back to Africa. As an aside, I'm not eating fish again for a while. Our current ship, the White Rose, is bound for the mid Atlantic, where there is rumored to be a chain of islands that has not shown up on any maps made to date.  In the sinking of the Roebuck I managed to get away with the Kurkri that I acquired in Nepal while I was traveling through the region. A source of mine mentioned a temple in a remote region to the north of the country that would be worth a look in future. See the letter dated 18th of April, 1904 that was sent to the Cartography Unit in England for more details. Making way through Madagascar and finding a new ship for the leg to Durbin was a mild challenge. It was like catching a glimpse of a star on a summer's night in London. First was the lack of water, food, and acceptable currency that we dealt with upon our landing. I was still violently ill from our three days in a dingy, and could barely walk straight for a day. I sent Alastair out to find some food and water, but having never been to the Dark Continent, he accidentally married a native woman in return for a day’s meal. She was slightly less attractive than the bison that Lewis and Clark showed me. Once I could walk again, it took a day or so to find Alastair, but I managed to steal him away in the dead of night. No mean feat with the amount of chickens in the hut. On the way back to the rest of the party a stray dog started following us. I've started feeding him and call him Sean. We'll see how long he lasts with us.  We got to Port Tulear within about a week or so, and found a ship on its way to Durbin within another week. I'm always amazed at the configurations of driftwood that float and are allowed to be called a ship. This one, named Servitude, used to be a slaver between West Africa and the Americas, but has sense fallen into vast disrepair. I tied Sean up for fear that if he shat on the wrong board we might have another wreck on our hands.  A storm is picking up, so I'm going to make my way up on deck to enjoy the sea wind and empty my bowels.

Liam Captain of Her Majesty's Cartography 3rd Unit, the Tigers