slapfight: (△ you don't beat america)
[personal profile] slapfight
[this was in no way a good event for Peridot. oh, it had started out well enough, resistances, rebellion, standing up for the little guy, but it had all been wrong, and there for a brief moment, she was something she wasn't supposed to be. not in a metaphorical sense either. in a very real, very horrifying sense.

and then it was over. and she was back to being a gem, as if it had never happened, and was she supposed to forget that? forget that form, that body when she could remember it clearly. this is probably not bothering anyone else, but it's bothering her, and she isn't sure how to bring it up or discuss it or anything.

so she goes to her own stand-by... being bitter.]

Log Date... [she pauses, suddenly realizing she has no idea what the date even is anymore, and then goes on.] Undated Log zero-dash-zero-dash-one.

This is a public transmission from Peridot. Full designation "Peridot Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG," a gem formerly of Homeworld and currently of Earth. Allied with the Crystal Gems. [a snort escapes her- the sound pained] See that's the important word there- Gem. That's what I am. I can deny and change my intended purpose until my form dissipates, but I can't stop being a gem, am I right?

[another noise, this one more pained than the last.] As the last few days will attest, I am not right. At all. It seems whatever machinations Wonderland has in place cannot only take our memories, toy with our minds and sense of reality, and keep us locked on this miserable planet that's a poor copy of Earth, but it can also change our entire make-up on a whim. And who's to say it has to change us back? Are there people who've been stuck like this? [her voice rises, hysterical in pitch] Is this why there's a lizard that talks?? I've never seen a lizard that can speak on Earth! They just crawl around and do things with their tongues! I know, because I followed one around for most of an Earth cycle once out of sheer boredom! Maybe he was once a human, and Wonderland decided, "Why don't I just make him a lizard? It'll be great!"

[she stops mid-rant, unsure of where she was even going with this. she's fine. it's okay. she just... needed to vent about it. publicly. now the healing can begin?


Talking about what makes you feel bad is supposed to make it go away, right? Why isn't it working?

[maybe because that isn't at all talking about it, Peri.]
ofletters: (and in my hour of darkness)
[personal profile] ofletters
[ If there's anything on Sam's mind about people who may or may not have disappeared from Wonderland recently, he doesn't say it. In fact, he looks and sounds like a person who is trying very hard to stay busy, to keep his mind occupied in the midst of something else. Hence: ]

So, I realized recently that we've got a problem. People here get excited about the closets - "cool, I can get a... damn miniature unicorn out of them" - but I think we can get a little irresponsible about it. If you're pulling living things out of the closets, then they're your responsibility. Don't dream up a hundred and one dalmatians if you've never taken care of anything before.

[ God knows these people can barely take care of themselves most of the time (Sam himself included). ]

That's not even getting into whether or not they're really... real; this isn't a discussion about the actual animal status of Wonderland animals. [ He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a little headache coming on. ] What I'm trying to say is that you get a few pets, fine, and then... one day, you might leave for good. Then, we've still got Fido here without an owner. I'm planning on setting up something in the basement that can help with the animals that're left behind. Maybe just like a doggie daycare sort of thing. I can't be there all the time, so... if anyone else is interested, maybe we could set up shifts, figure out what we've got, here.

[ There's a thoughtful pause. ]

If there's something a little more dangerous than dogs and cats, we'll deal with that, too. For now, just let me know if you want to get involved, or if you've got someone's pet with you that you inherited and can't really take care of. We can't forget about those guys.

[ Whether he means the abandoned animals or their vanished owners is unclear as he ends the feed. ]


Jun. 18th, 2016 02:44 pm
ceruleans: (Mystique - focused)
[personal profile] ceruleans
[When the feed flips on, there's little to the screen other than a blue hand on a desk, thoughtfully stroking the edge of a helmet that might be familiar to some. Her voice narrates the video, for now.]

So, Wonderland -- I've got a favor to ask you -- some of you, at least. I have to assume that just based on the number of people here, there've got to be a few telepaths kicking around...right? I'm looking for some volunteers to help me figure out what this thing is going to block out, and what it's going to let through.

[She doesn't really have a reason to be curious about this, but with the explosion that just rocked her room and left some of her belongings in a sort of weird, liquified goo -- well, she's looking for a distraction.]

I haven't got much to trade for your help, but -- do any of us really have anything better to do right now that's more productive?
perennialpetals: (Whatchu say punk?)
[personal profile] perennialpetals
[Being here is impossible. Simply being is impossible. The large, alien woman had given up her physical form to allow her son to inherit her gemstone, the source of her very essence and abilities. There's no explanation for her returning to herself, just as there's no explanation for her appearance in his Earthly -yet unearthly- place. The last thing Rose remembers is the birth, followed by simple and otherwise indescribable nothingness. Time passed, but she can only recognize that now that she's herself once more. Yet...the thought of her son weighs heavy on her mind, taking precedence over any concern she should be feeling for herself. Was he born safely? If she's here with her gemstone, was he still born half-Gem? She knows he would have been born regardless, but that doesn't ease her mind entirely. Human infants are so frail...

However, Rose Quartz knows she can't dwell on what-ifs and personal, anxious conjecture. That won't solve anything, but gathering her bearings and facts will. Small communication device in hand, she steps into the foyer of the imposing mansion, all eight feet of her (plus massive hair) making her equally imposing in her own right. She doesn't know who lives here, but if no one responds to her impeding attempt at communication, she can hopefully catch residents coming and going from the building. It's a simplistic strategy, but it's all she has until she knows more.

Without further pause, she places an all-call. Despite the warm, bell-like quality to her voice, there's a distinct unease and uncertainly based below the practiced calmness.]

This is Rose Quartz, calling all who are able.

I'd like to ask about this place, if anyone has a moment. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm... not supposed to be anywhere. So any explanations of what this place is and how it's able to do something so impossible would be greatly appreciated.

I'd also like to ask if anyone has met anyone by the name of Pearl, Amethyst, Garnet, Greg, or... by any possible chance, a boy name Steven from Beach city.

That is all. Thank you.

Rose Quartz out.
beyourrock: (Hopeful.)
[personal profile] beyourrock
[The feed opens up with with an extremely pale young woman. The most prominent feature on her being the large pearl in her forehead. It's not just on her forehead. It's literally in it. Obviously, Pearl is always oblivious to how strange she may look to those unfamiliar to Gems.

She clears her throat, smoothing out her top, to make herself more presentable before she addresses the feed.]

Hello and greetings to... whoever may be receiving this.

[She curls some pink hair from her cheek and steadies her view on the feed.]

My name is Pearl, and I'm in search of my friends. One of them is tall with two gems in her hands, one with purple skin and a gem in her chest, and the last one is a young boy named Steven. He usually wears a red shirt with a bright yellow star on it.

[Her gem glows softly, and images are produced from it. Holograms. Simplified and rigid images, but they gets the message across pretty well.

Her hands fidget as she looks around her new 'room' and the images fizzle out from view, her gemstone dimming. She shifts her weight on the bed, pursing her lips.]

We were on a very important mission, and if they were transported here as well, I'd like to regroup with them and make sure they're alright.

[Pale blue eyes look at the feed worriedly, but she fights to tug out a small smile on her lips.]

Thank you for your time.

wriggedywrecked: (i am offended good sir nay appalled)
[personal profile] wriggedywrecked
But what I wanna know is, is, is why the fuck everyone else gets cool, albeit fucking cliched evil twins, but I'm, I'm just fucking stuck with this loser!

[The camera swings toward the nearest mirror, where another Rick can be seen. The Mirror Rick is smiling placidly to himself and is doodling smiley faces and hearts on his side of the glass.]

Look at him! Look at this pathetic excuse for a Rick! H-H-He's this sappy, sweet, goody-two--I mean he's worse than Doofus Rick, and that guy eats his own poo. That's how bad this guy is. He's an embarrassment to, t-to Ricks everywhere.

[Mirror Rick starts drawing what appears to be an adorable cartoon pony.]

Shameful. Positively shameful.
pig_and_pepper: ({  Shall I try the experiment? })
[personal profile] pig_and_pepper
[ The Duchess head rolls into the frame, most tragically without grace. Her face comes to rest on the floor. She sighs heavily. ]

'Tis rather inconvenient like this. Turn me around, dear, so I can see them all.

[ The Duchess' piglet runs to her with a squeal, and nudges her head, so it turns to face her beloved audience. ]

Now! Do you see what I-- face, goodness, no, what vile punnery. [ She clears her throat. ] Do you see what I struggle with, my dear friends? Do you see it all? I must say it quite forcefully, you understand, for I- I cannot see enough otherwise, not like this! [ Another sigh, even heavier and more dramatic than the first. ] It slips, it turns, it falls, it will not stay with me, no matter what I do!

[ Her piglet nuzzles her hair consolingly, then begins chewing on it, undoubtedly to provide comfort. ]

Thank you, my love. Now, where was I? Ah! Your own medicine is worth twice the sweetness in the bush, that is what they say! Here is my plan, now make sure you listen well, or you get it wrong, and then I would need to pair you all up, for only two even wrongs set my head back on right, and we've no time for such things, no time at all, do we?

[ The Duchess clears her throat. ]

As mighty as the sharpest blade, as stout as the hardest shield, a spool of thread woven from hearts of gold. It must exist, and I must have it! She'll do worse to my head if I search, but you'll help, won't you? I will let you see, and you will be my eyes! All good things come tomorrow - then I'll let you see, and you'll be my eyes, and when it's all done you'll use your own mouths to tell my personal ears all you know, won't you?

[ Her piglet nudges the screen. It turns, and shows the Duchess' body, standing in front of a mirror, painting it silver. Somewhat without coordination it paints the walls and itself as well, but as long as it does not miss the glass entirely, the Duchess' head seems satisfied enough with its efforts. ]

See, now, we're nearly done, and when we're all done you'll see for me. Good luck, my darlings, the best of luck to us all!
wriggedywrecked: (yeah grandpa's a cool grandpa morty)
[personal profile] wriggedywrecked
[So the last time an event like this happened, Rick went out with two guns and just started blasting a bunch of evil lizards to smithereens. This time isn't too much different, only it's mushrooms instead of lizards, and Rick is a good deal more prepared. Gasmask, body armor, backpack with supplies, three visible guns and a shit-eating grin.]

Man, l-let me tell you something, when it comes to shrooms, it's gonna be me consuming them and having a great fucking time, not the other way around.

G-Got me a good base in the third floor tearoom. I mean it's not, yanno, th-the most badass room to have as a base during an apocalypse, but what the fuck ever, leave the aesthetics for the, the hipsters. It's got working pantries for now. Figure I'll patrol and kill as many of these fuckers as I want. Waiting this shit out's g-gonna get boring, trust me. Anyway, you need a place to crash, yeah. Th-Third floor t-UURURRRHHHGG-earoom. Anyone who's not a shitheel is welcome, just don't annoy me.

I got like, like, like sixty guns too, anyone want a gun? Haha fuck we play this right and this could actually be fun.

And hey, anyone seen Morty? Where is that little bastard? HEY MORTY!

it's like that one video game morty you ever heard of that one game? )
itwouldbeatragedy: (白 Heart with a gaping hole)
[personal profile] itwouldbeatragedy
[For those who can sense such things, there's suddenly a barely-contained hunger in the Mansion. For those with regular but heightened senses, it's a distinctly strong smell of blood. For those with neither of those things, it's just Kaneki, though he's a bit different than he used to be.

He stands frozen for a moment between two looooong shelves loaded with books of all ages and subjects and worlds of origin, as it all starts to come back to him. Arriving in Wonderland is as disorienting the second time as it was the first. As he starts to regain his mental balance, he feels in his pocket for the device he knows is there.

The Kaneki who appears on the network looks a bit older, a bit leaner. His hair is stark white now, but the familiar patch still covers his left eye. He still sounds a bit shy, still stutters occasionally, but anyone who has spoken with him much in the past will notice it's just...not the same. Kaneki has always been calculating, but now that's more apparent, an undercurrent to what is otherwise his normal tone and tempo.]

Ah...sorry to bother everyone. I've been here before, but I'm not sure how long it's been exactly--how long it's been here, I mean.

[He lets out a light sigh, glancing around at the book shelves around him.]

Regardless of that, it seems like not all that much has changed here. I'm sure there are a lot of people I haven't met, though, so I should introduce myself. [He looks back at the camera.] My name is Kaneki Ken--Kaneki is my family name, but it's fine to use either of them.

[He offers a smile that is a bit uncertain, and much more like the old Kaneki.] the coffee shop still here? I've missed spending time in one....

video; 002

Mar. 15th, 2016 08:21 pm
littlestreetcat: (pic#9816413)
[personal profile] littlestreetcat
[ Selina's absolutely not the type to turn to others for help. Especially not a whole open network of people. But sometimes, there are situations that occur that you just can't get out of on your own, and this is looking, very unfortunately, exactly like one of those.

Basically, she's had an accident with something she stole from someone back during Saturnalia. It had looked like an innocent little vial of liquid, and while she's smart enough to know not to trust the contents since there's no label, sometimes accidents happen. And that sometimes means... Well, basically, she broke the vial and it's had an interesting effect on her.

Nothing appears out of the ordinary when she starts up a video feed over the network, but she does look frustrated and gives a huff before getting to an explanation. ]

Hey. So. I've got a little problem and was hoping someone out there might have a solution.

[ With that, she lifts her left hand and reveals that it has been entirely trapped in crystal. ]

Yeah. Long story, but to put it shortly, I "borrowed" this vial of something from some guy back during Saturnalia. I haven't really touched it again since then, but when I picked it up today, it kind of...broke. And this happened.

[ A long, irritated glance is cast in the direction of her crystal-encased hand. ]

Normally I have no problem dealing with my own problems, but this is kind of new. As in, I have no idea how to fix my hand. So if anyone has any ideas or actually knows what to do? That'd be great.
brainmeme: (you can see i been that bitch)
[personal profile] brainmeme
[Here's a particularly purple person picking her nose for you, network. Know you were in the market for that kinda thing. If you recognize her, you might notice she's wearing different clothes, which is only notable if you also noticed before that she never changes her clothes. Except that one time there was a wedding.]

Uhh, hey. Question for anyone who gets this: if, say, someone happened to fall asleep on the beach, get taken in by the tide, and then get washed up somewhere completely different... Just, in the case of that freak, completely hypothetical scenario... [She pulls her finger out and flicks whatever she dug up away from her.] How would she use the phone she woke up with to send pictures of her butt with an SOS attached to the guy with the lion?

I mean, the lion can teleport. So the guy with the lion can, you know, use the lion to teleport. Obviously.

I wouldn't care, but there's kind of an emergency with a giant monster in the core of the Earth-- Okay, Pearl keeps telling me it's not actually in the core, but it's deep in there, and I gotta help get rid of it or we're all doomed. Forever. Kersplode. No Earth.

Don't freak out or nothing, though. It's all good. Just gotta... get back. Hypothetically.

Man, I wish I didn't have to leave, this place is cool. I think it's even bigger than the temple. And have you seen the closets?
ceruleans: (Mystique - ru for real)
[personal profile] ceruleans
[The woman who pops onto the screen? She doesn't look at all pleased. She's disheveled and incredibly sore, but at least she's been able to have a shower since things have returned to normal. She'd woken up in her own bed, having muddied up the sheets -- so, okay, she's still pretty annoyed.

Still, it had occurred to her that she'd done something a little bit irresponsible the night before. It had been motivated by anger, certainly, but it isn't as if she'd killed the man -- still, she needs to get it off her chest and just make sure that he's -- you know, still alive.

She clears her throat.]

Uh, all right -- this message is especially for Alistair, or for anyone from his world -- now that this thing is working again.

I was attacked in the forest last night by someone accusing me of being a demon, so I thought that you guys might know him. I knocked him out and left him tied up outside the tavern, so I don't know where he'd be now.

[She scowls.]

And just to clear it up for anyone who might be wondering ... I'm not a demon.

[She motions to her hair.]

I mean, do you see a set of pointy horns? I have no interest in your immortal soul, okay? So further attempts to end me? Not going to be dealt with so gently.

[It's a bit of posturing since she's never actually killed anyone, but...they don't need to know that.]
ceruleans: (Mystique - scared)
[personal profile] ceruleans
[The video feed is understandably distorted by the fact that the camera is sitting on its side on the floor. There's a familiar blue pair of feet walking over shards of broken porcelain, uncaring of the cuts that she's probably incurring on herself.

More jarring than that, though, is the sound of freshly-breaking plates as they smash against the wall of her room. It's something that she picked up while she was waitressing - it's one of the few things that actually helps to calm her down. It doesn't seem to be working this time around, though.

She's shouting in a flurry of languages -- Vietnamese, English, French, German -- but the sentiment is easy to pick up. She's not just angry, she's mournful and desperate.

This place has taken the one familiar person she'd finally begun to mend fences with away from her. After a week of false memories, maybe she's taking it harder than she should be.

Or maybe she's just been in a more fragile state than she can admit since she got here. She hadn't had much time to process what had happened with Trask and Nixon, after all, before getting dropped off in this place.

Eventually she slides down onto the floor, her knees meeting the broken plates. It's at this point that she realizes the camera's on.

Of course. She can't even have this private moment. Well, since the thing is on ... ]

Erik Lehnsherr isn't here any longer, if anyone else cares.
ceruleans: (Mystique - what?!)
[personal profile] ceruleans
[It's been almost exactly a month since she's arrived in this place that they call Wonderland. The only thing she's managed to do, really, is to convince herself that she is not in the land of mutant genocides. That, along with Erik's presence here, was more than enough to convince her that another video post was necessary. The other mutants who'd belonged to the Brotherhood were dead, and she knew there were mutants here like Ned. Maybe they were hiding and maybe they weren't, but she felt it was only fair to reach out to them.

When she flicks on the video feed, she's at some sort of ornately carved desk with her hands folded awkwardly in front of her. She is her usual tried-and-true blue, wearing a red tank top. She'd actually had time to dress herself for the occasion instead of having to be nude for reasons of sudden disguise.]

...I think it's been long enough with me here that this announcement is overdue, but I didn't exactly want to paint a neon target on myself while things were happening with what people call "Mirrors", here.

My name is Raven Darkholme, but I'd like it if you called me Mystique. Like some of the other people here, I have powers that had me labelled a 'freak' when I was at home, even as a child who knew no better.

I've been hunted, injured, and nearly killed by people who think that I'm dangerous for some of the things I could do, not the things I've done. I've been hunted because I refuse to hide myself in plain view because other people think that I should, because the way I look makes them uncomfortable.

Because the fact I can do this,

[She lets the scales ripple across her body, briefly displaying to the audience watching he usual blonde persona before flowing back to her natural state,]

makes me different. I know we should all be working together here in Wonderland, but I wanted to give any other mutants out there who might be looking for a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen a chance to be heard.

I'll be that person, Wonderland, if you need me.

-- uh, I guess that's all.

[Dang, and she was doing so well with being eloquent up until the end of that sentence. She flicks the phone off, ending her broadcast.]
wordvomit: so sit the fuck down, pal (let me explain you a thing)
[personal profile] wordvomit
[Well into October, Ned starts to feel grim
A reminder of Autumn's old pang eats at him
The leaves changing colors, red, yellow and brown
Serve to bring the resident Pie Maker down
But what is the reason? you ask, mildly wary
A dislike of ghosts, or something more scary?
Perhaps a less silly approach, if you please
Halloween's on its way, and the facts are these:

When Ned was nine years, thirty-four weeks, seventeen minutes and four seconds old, he received the one and only postcard he would ever get from his father while attending the Longborough School for Boys in North Thrush. It came on Hallow's Eve, a holiday ripe for the picking by children decked up as witches and warlocks, ghouls and goblins - but the only thing more terrifying than the idea of whatever mythical creatures might be lurking in the dark was the pre-printed message on the back of the postcard: We've moved.

Young Ned tracked the origins of the postcard to a small house in a pleasant neighborhood, bedecked with festive decorations and Jack-O-Lanterns. Dressed as a ghost in a sheet he sought to ascertain his wayward father's whereabouts and, hopefully, come home. But what emerged from the little white door in the front was not a welcoming party, but his father with two new sons and a brand-new wife, preparing for an evening of Trick-or-Treating.

The last thing Ned's father said to him was a genial Happy Halloween as he handed the boy dressed as a ghost a Honeycomb Chew and walked away with his family - for the first time that evening Ned felt as though he were one with his chosen costume.

...okay. So. I didn't want to have to make an announcement, but since there's been an increase in requests for...thematically seasonal pies, I'm putting up a list outside the diner and on the network.

[The list itself reads, in perfectly legible script:

Chess Pie
Pecan Pie
Apple-Cranberry Pie
Tart Cherry Pie
Dutch Apple Pie
Triple-Pear Pie
Sweet Potato Pie
Maple Cream Pie

Observant residents may note that pumpkin does not appear on Ned's list, as he is vehemently opposed to everything that it stands for. Out of frame a dog whines, and the Pie Maker stoops to pat Derby on the head before continuing.

I know we have the- uh, capacity and ability to have all kinds of fresh fruit year-round- [And not just because he can touch dead things and bring them back to life.] -but it's kinda how we do things at The Pie Hole,' I'm doing them here. I also know it's pretty easy to ask the kitchen to give you a slice of pie, but I thought I might offer lessons in case anyone...wanted to learn. How to bake.

[There is a long, awkward pause before he decides he's had enough social interaction, and cuts the feed.]


Oct. 11th, 2014 03:03 am
meantsomething: (Disbelief)
[personal profile] meantsomething
[Back home, Peter had a cat. He loved that thing, too, right up until he had to kill it. He didn't have the heart to get another one after that, not with all the bullshit and all the moving, but now that he's been settled in for a few months... Well, he's seen other people with pets, random animals running around, and it sparked a thought.

The closet couldn't bring back his cat, but it did mass produce cats that looked a hell of a lot like it.

It's more disturbing than it is cute, and he comes on the network for the first time since he's arrived to poke at a question that started bugging him the second he opened the closet door.]

Animals have souls, right? I mean, if you believe in that shit anyway- they're just as alive as humans, some are smarter. Dolphins probably have a few more IQ points than a few people I've met.

[He flicks some hair out of his face.]

So when you get, like, a cat or something out of the closet, where the hell does it come from? You can't just... make a fuckin' cat, they're not like robots. Food, furniture, I get all that stuff, but living things?

[Seriously, this shit is bugging him. Call it his harmony with nature or whatever.]

Are we stealing some jackoff's pet like this place snatched us, or what?
ganking: (pic#8127530)
[personal profile] ganking
[ dean’s looking the very part of a paranoid hunter when the feed clicks on, rushing down a hallway with a gun firmly gripped in his hands. he’s definitely not about to take any chances with what’s going down at the moment, the invasion of mirrors becoming more and more obvious. when he speaks it’s in a low, rushed voice. ]

I know the numbers are changing, but betting this is still a good time for a head count of the non-fake variety. Unless of course asking that triggers some kind of a goddamn identity crisis for our less than welcome guests from the great Wonderland mirror-y beyond. [ not that he really gives a flying fuck if it does, tbqh. ]

So— Sam? Cas? Jo? Whoever didn’t get their ass replaced by their Twilight Zone version, now would be a great time to know.

[ of course, telling the difference can be a little difficult too, in some cases, and more might come crawling through still. but a beat follows, as he rounds a corner somewhere in the mansion. ]

Oh, right— whatever you freaks are after- [ which is the sword because of course it is ] -whatever your mission here is that you’re scared of failing ‘cause the Queen on the other side might give you a spakin’ if you do? It ain’t worth the hell I’ll show you if you mess with our chances of findin’ that goddamn sword.

[ just a fair warning. or threat— whichever.

the feed ends with that. ]

( ooh: feel free to action a reply, too! the location can be almost anywhere near or within the mansion. )
ceruleans: (Mystique - shocked!)
[personal profile] ceruleans
[When the feed first clicks on, it's obvious that the device is laying haphazardly on its side (presumably propped up by a ... towel, or something) facing the second-story pool. The object in the frame looks a lot more like some sort of sea creature floundering in the water with the flashes of blue scales and occasional streaks of red motion, but when something finally emerges from beneath the water -- well, it's the form of a blonde girl in army fatigues, soaking wet and gasping.

The extremely sharp might notice the last hints of gold draining out around the very edges of her pupil, but only those who have better eyes than most -- she's gotten better at her shapeshifting in the last decade, after all.

The girl sputters and curses under her breath in what sounds like ... Vietnamese ... before she fixes her eyes on the camera pointed at the water. Her first instinct is to chuck the thing right at the person who'd placed it there to record her, but she doesn't see anyone in the near vicinity as she scans around. That was perplexing.

She clears her throat, trying to gather her thoughts. The last thing she'd remembered was going to fish Wolverine out of the Potomac River (always cleaning up Erik's messes - some things would never change), plunging a hand into the ice-cold water. In contrast, she notes, the water around her is fairly warm.

Having an outwardly hostile tone right now isn't going to help things, she knows, but she feels that if she sounds a little annoyed it should be all right.]

You know, I've heard of river monsters before ... but not teleporting river monsters.


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