entranceway | text; Ahh, come feel the rain.

[It's been a while, hasn't it, Wonderland. Tom doesn't have the balls to approach the network any way other than text. He doesn't want to show his face. He doesn't even want to do this but it's only fair to post a public warning. This is stupid, asking for trouble, he knows. But. Well. Event.]

This is a public notice.

I've relocated to the 1st floor. I'll try to stay out of your way.

For what it's worth, I'm so sorry. If it were up to me I'd disappear completely, but it's not fair to any of you to be in the clinic.

I've never been a man of words but sorry doesn't even to begin to express what I am. Sick, maybe. Sick and without any way to make amends for it. My future self could have prevented this and I can't pretend to understand why he didn't.

But what I know for sure is that I am not dangerous.

[Tom has relocated to room 025 on the first floor. He will be spending most of his time trying to avoid every living being but if you're after a confrontation or just curious to meet Wonderland's resident nutjob, he's there.]

[[A PRAYER - intercept-able to higher beings or those with telepathy who might hear. Feel free to reply via this post, action, or in his ic contact voice mail. The prayer is made late at night, through heartbreak and torment. Perhaps a last ditch effort from someone who has lost their faith a long time ago.]]

Almighty God, our heavenly Father,
I have sinned against you and against my neighbor in thought and word and deed,
through negligence, through weakness, through my own deliberate fault.
I am truly sorry and repent for all my sins....not that I deserve, o God.
For the sake of your Son- for the people of this world whom I have wronged..hurt. Ruined.
Please forgive me for all that has passed and grant that I may serve in newness of life
to the glory of your name.
Lord, I am not worthy to receive you but only say the word and I shall be healed.

Please. Please.. help me. Please make this go away. Make me go away.
I've done enough damage.

Amen.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Philip is an expert on this, no question. Philip is the expert on this, hence the mirthless laugh, which doesn't make it into his message. ]

Sure. How long will he STAY gone?

[Can't blame him. Even if Tom can't hear it he realizes how fucking stupid this is. To try to talk about it. To try to explain it when you can't. How do you even begin? Hey man, turns out I'm nuts and had no fucking idea but my future self did and did nothing to help or save me? Cool, huh.]

Forever from what I understand. Depends on how much you trust Crowley, I suppose. He's the one that did it.

Dean's Crowley? Demon Crowley? "We have a mansion full of angels and wizards, but he definitely sounds like the most sensible choice" Crowley? That Crowley?

[ Now. This may be a little tricky to detect, but if you read very carefully between the lines, then it could be that you might just find the slightest hint of disapproval. ]

[Oh, really? But he was so subtle??]

That Crowley.

Future self made a deal over Christmas. He won't tell me what it was but he can't back out. That's like his thing, right? He's not allowed to break a deal.

Christmas comes before Valentine's Day. Remember Valentine's Day? So whatever deal he made back then, I don't think he did a great job on the Stopping You From Murdering People clause.

[ Which may sound harsh. Very harsh. Harsher than Philip might usually think was a good idea, but... expert opinion. Worth it. Obviously. ]

[And he doesn't even mind because it's true. And there's no pussyfooting around it. This is what he likes about Philip, no bullshit. Tom deals with too much bullshit.

He respects a man with no time for it.

That being said, he fires back before he can reason out a proper response.]

Wow, classy.

[And then...moving swiftly along.]
Like I said, I don't know the terms of the deal and I can't speak for what that Tom did during Christmas. I wasn't here, remember.

You're here NOW. You're supposed to do more than hope for the best.

[ He sent his first message in hopes of making up his mind about Tom. So far his success is negligible, and in his mind this is rapidly turning into Introduction to Homicidal Alter-Egos 101. ]

[ ...Which means it's time for a protip: ]

Talk to Castiel. Ask him if he can|

[ ...okay, finding the words here takes a second. ]

run an angel scan, or whatever he needs to do to figure out your status.

[Sorry? It's not like he's ever done this before.]

What else am i supposed to do, man? It's not like i saw this coming and Jesus i'd give ANYTHING to go back and fix it but I can't. And i know that. And it's fucking killing me. Hoping for the best is all I've got at this point. Turns out willing yourself into oblivion doesn't work. Sorry to disappoint.

[ You would think that Wonderland might have the decency to make time for a normal conversation on such an important subject, but this is still an event, and in its grasp Philip is gradually starting to come to the one and only obvious conclusion: He handled his foray into unwilling homicide so, so much better than Tom. ]

Not calling yourself harmless would be a good start. "Hoping for the best" probably sounds good to you, but maybe the mansion full of potential murder victims wants something more substantial. I told you, talk to the angel; worked for me last time.

[Would you like a sticker, Philip?]

Worked for you last time.

[ Yes. Yes, he would. It will say BEST MURDER GUY, and it will mark his incredible murder prowess and skill in dealing with the

subsequent guilt.

And speaking of consequences to stupid actions, he really shouldn't have said that, should he? This is probably the point at which a

guitar spontaneously materialises in his lap, so he can take a moment to dramatically

sing/mumble to himself. It will look very scenic. The music video will be beautiful, and very sad.

Alas, this is a text transmission, so we are fast forwarding to the part where he stares at the actual message again, and decides to

elaborately explain himself as follows: ]

Yes.

[ Elaborately, Philip. Elaborately. ]

Talk to the angel.

[ Wow. So much better. So much-- ]

That's all I have to say.

[ ...better. He shoves the comm device into the nearest drawer, and pats himself on the back over a piece of advice well

given. Come the event's end in a few days, he will probably slap himself in the face for the conversation instead, but until then it's all

arrogance and music. Christ, he's amazing at playing the guitar... ]

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