#poison:start

[milo-james-thatch-blog1]

date: october 15th location: outskirts of Fable Community College availability: open to everyone

Waving to a few of his students who had walked past, Milo smiled to match the ones that were sent his way. In his hand was a roll of toilet paper that he threw, then caught right back in his palms as he walked through the hallway.

Halloween was right around the corner, and with it came a number of parties that he felt like he had to attend out of politeness to his fellow friends and employees. His office desk was already crawling in fun decorations such as plastic spiders, ghost stickers, and even a bowl of candy for any passing faculty.

Milo held the door open for a student scurrying to get home, pushing up his glasses with the back of his hand before the sight of a passing person caught his attention.

"Hey!" Milo called out with a wave, jogging up to them and playfully plopping the roll of toilet paper in their hands, already beginning to wrap himself in it.

"I'm so glad I caught you. I'm a little late for a faculty Halloween party and promised to be mummy buddies with one of my friends. Super creative, isn't it?" Milo laughed, the last part of his sentence covered in sarcasm.

[ali-riffraff-blog]

Timestamp: October 14th,  Location: Gaston’s Tavern Status: Open to everyone

Exhaustion etched his features. His eyes were heavy, dry from lack of sleep. Despite being on the constant run from the sultan’s guards, he couldn’t remember ever being this tired as a street rat. The smart idea would be to go home and sleep for the rest of the night and for at least half of his day off too.  But truly, all Al could think about was a drink and he needed it stiff.

It was a busy night at Gaston’s, and apparently he wasn’t the only person in Fabletown who needed a drink tonight, it seemed as though at least half the town had a similar idea in mind. Every seat in the house was taken, except for one at a small table tucked away by the bar. Al, never one to shy away from a little conversation, detoured by the bar to pick up a beer before making his way over to the table.

“Hey, do you mind having some company?” He asked, gesturing to the empty seat, “I promise it’ll be like I’m not even here,” he finished.

[ellabellamy-blog]

WHEN: October 11th, 09:10.  WHERE: Castle of Dreams.  WHO: Open. 

Blond hair tightly wrapped in a bun, Ella sighed as she looked at herself in the dingy mirror of the employees’ bathroom. Her break was about to end, and the young woman wasn’t looking forward to getting back to cleaning. It wasn’t that she disliked it; it was what she did best, after all. It was just so repetitive after a while, and she had already been at it for hours that day. Still, she needed the money and the job satisfaction, and therefore she only blinked once more before getting out of the bathroom. Pushing her cart towards the rooms, she frowned as she saw that most of them had requested to be left alone. Work might have been a drag sometimes, but doing nothing was much, much worse. Finally, Ella spotted a room with no sign on the door, and knocked. Getting no answer, she unlocked the door and walked in, going over to the bed to get the sheets. Gently humming to herself, she didn’t hear that someone had walked out of the bathroom, and didn’t notice them either until she bumped into them. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

[moralambiguities-blog]

WHEN: October 11. WHERE: Oscar’s home. WHO: Closed, ft. @goldi-locked.

So she gets out of work late. That’s fine, of course. He can work with late. It was a solid Friday night, after all, and it would be rather ridiculous of him to turn her down on the basis of not wanting to stay up past his proverbial bedtime. Besides, he did want to see her. Very much so, in fact. And he had told her that he would wait up for her, and so he intended to. Which is why he was sitting on the couch now, with a glass of bourbon in his hand, waiting up for her as he’d said he would.

He wasn’t entirely sure what she saw them as. Given the type of person she was, she could honestly go either way, looking at him as merely someone she slept with on a regular basis or someone she could see herself in a romantic relationship with. He hadn’t, ahem, seen anybody on a serious basis since before the Exodus -- And not in Oz, either. He contemplated the idea of dating, of being somebody’s boyfriend. It was a strange, foreign sort of thing that he’d assumed upon entering the position of Wizard had become an impossibility. 

When he heard the door open, he smiled. Once she’d entered, he said, “I took the liberty of pouring you a drink -- I know whiskey isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I find myself indulging once in a while. How was work?”

[cessairhuxley]

when: october 12th where: outside of wonderland / castle of dreams who: @ellabellamy / closed starter

he’s idling in the street beyond the portals to both wonderland and dreams.  a cigarette in hand, grey-blue smoke curling into the air, more white as he exhales a delicious lungful of toxin                 --( and really it’s more revitalising to him, even in this flesh from than any health kick - kale smoothies didn’t really stand up to the readily available polluting addictions that could be bought from any general store -- god, he loves this world )--

fortuitous then, that he catches sight of ella slipping out of the doors of dreams, perhaps another wearying shift over - hard work, sweat on her brow, a toil without gracious reward.  and he makes sure to nod when he catches her eye - to note that he’s noticed, to make sure that she can’t slip away without being ‘rude’ ( the sensibilities which belonged to those who care were so much fun to play with after all ).  

he takes another long pull on the cigarette before flicking the remnant into the gutter - raising a small shower of sparks agains the encroaching darkness.

❝ all done for the day???  what -- entertainment -- awaits the hard working when the sun goes down, hm??? ❞

[beavforts]

𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓: The morning of October 10th 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊: Ella’s apartment 𝖜𝖍𝖔: @ellabellamy

“It’s kind of ugly,” Cain observes peering at the four legged creature by his feet. All he expected to do that day was talk Ella into making him breakfast and possibly cause her some grief in exchange. What he didn’t expect was to be followed by a cat with one eye the whole way to her place. He even tried kicking it away a few times with no success in scaring her. “If I still had my fangs I don’t think she’d be this attached.” Of course, he didn’t really want that - or so he tells himself.

He looks up for the first time in minutes, suddenly realizing he got caught up in his own thoughts. There’s a familiar look on Ella’s face that makes Cain shake his head. “Ella, don’t tell me you’re considering keeping it. You don’t need to save everyone especially this one -” he gestures towards the cat with his head. ”You don’t know what diseases it’s riddled with.”

[cessairhuxley]

when: october 12th where: wonderland who: @ferrousfae / closed starter

she amuses him. all of that misdirected anger.  he remembers their last little conversation and her scathing outburst         -- ( and how - w r o n g - she was.  about the fairies - while it may well have been fun to pluck those wings, pin their greying bodies, devoid of light and magic and life to a pinboard like a stuck butterfly - he’d merely taken advantage of the -- corruption -- the pollution, the greed spewed by the humans and their machines... if she truly wants to spit her venom and vitriol at the -- culprit -- then she’s in the right place, this world is full of delightfully foul humans.  seething and pulsing in the mass of pollution that spilled from every available orifice... their cars, their machines, their factories, their plastics, their fuels, their greed -- in fact, he really didn’t have to do much here at all... the entire planet was so immersed in it’s own ultimate downfall ).

they seem to forget.         -- ( probably because they compare their own actions, histories, desires, whatever - to him.  they try to imply that he has motivation.  that what he does has rationale or reason.  because they do... they’re the bad guy ‘because’ ( insert tragic backstory here ) -- but that’s just not how it works with him ) --             he doesn’t hate.  he has no agenda of revenge or retribution.  he isn’t ‘good’ become ‘evil’.  he simply -- is.  no more to blame for ‘what’ he is than the sun or the wind.  he is the juxtaposition to creation.  without ‘nothing’, there can never be ‘something’.  he exists.  that’s all there is to it.  ( that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it ).

❝ either you’ve come to apologise... ❞

he looks up from the small leather bound notebook idling in front of him, black ink scratched across the pages in immaculate script.  perhaps it’s just a trick of the light, but for a moment they words look as though they seethe on the paper, twisting into something terrible before they settle.  and he speaks in the words of that ever impeccable host -- tone patient, droll, lacking emotion.

❝ ...or this is the part where you ‘rain the forces of hell down upon my head’. ❞

[milo-james-thatch-blog1]

date: october 17th location: his office availability: closed to @wndybird 

Sharp eyes were reviewing the scores of the latest tests. A red pen rested against the knuckle of his middle finger, the sound of the occasional scribble filling the air of his otherwise quiet office. There was a small smile on Milo’s face as he reviewed the test in front of him, proud of the B that his student had gotten.

“Nice improvement, Craig.” Milo said to himself, tucking the graded test into a somewhat neat - well, neat for his standards - pile by his hand. 

Marking the finished test as a chance to take a break, Milo leaned back in his chair and sighed, stretching his arms over his head. He pushed back his glasses by the rims and stood up to get the blood flowing in his sore back and legs. A wince took the form of a wrinkled nose when his joints cracked, followed by a sigh of relief.

That was when his door nearly slammed open to reveal the small figure of Wendy. The sight of her never failed to bring a smile to his face, though the manner in which she entered Milo’s office caused a quizzical expression to appear. Rarely was she aggressive - always staying late or coming into Milo’s office hours for a relaxed conversation and a cup of tea.

“Hello, dear.” Milo greeted warmly, leaning against his desk and gesturing for her to come inside his office. “Always a pleasure to see you, Wendy. What can I do you for?”