Deadly Hedonism

Almost Been a quiet month lately. Heheheh. Everybody is out doing their things, which don't involve little old me. That suits me just fine, not like I can stand being around any of them for any long periods of time anyway.... Well, except Vanguard, but he never talks. This is a REALLY nice little penthouse to have all by myself. I... Have to admit, I haven't been alone like this for a while now. Not counting the masked freaks we have wander in every so often, or the Agents running the Casino portion of our little Bond Villain Lair. Hehehehehehe.

SPEAKING of Bond Villains, I think some actual ones came by the other day. I don't really know what they wanted, I wasn't paying attention. They had nice suits, also thick accents, but the suits were the important part. Really wanted to get me one of those suits, so I asked them where they got them from, and if they wanted to come hang out at my house. I'm sure Babsy might not have approved of my unprofessionalism, letting two potential enemies into our humble abode, but you see... I really, REALLY wanted to get me a suit like that. And I just couldn't pass up the chance to get a two for one special.

So, while Jokes was out, I converted his shitty old room into my patented Room of Sunshine, Laughter, Approval, Uniqueness, Grandiosity, Haemophobia, Truth,  Envelopment & Rainbows. It was great. We had fun. Pity the FUCKERS left such a mess behind. MANNERS PEOPLE, THEY MATTER. I swear the spillage was AWFUL, and the noise pollution they made. Fat Tony or whoever the fuck he was, sounded like he had been set on fire or something fucked up like that. I HATE, HATE, HATE, Overactors like that. All I did was introduce him to the wonders of Lemon Juice. No reason to start screaming, or begging for your life like that. Oh No. At least his partner didn't do quite as much of that. No... He was more the threatening sort. Real intimidating guy, but prone to rambling, I think. Really I just kind of tuned him out midway through his ranting about his boss, and something violent and unnecessary being inflicted on me and my boss. Heh. Promises, promises. When will people learn not to make promises they can't keep?

Sadly, those two couldn't stick around for dinner. Too bad, really, but I guess it also meant the meal would be a bit more tender than usual, which is no bad thing. Sometimes this shit is like Jerky, you know? Still, I probably should have got their names at least, before they left. I expect to start seeing them on the back of Milk Cartons. I had no idea they were famous. Heh. I DID end up going back downstairs to ask our girl what those two wanted. Turned out they were trying to get MONEY out of us. The Nerve of them. I expect I'll be seeing some of their friends drop by soon enough. When that happens... It would probably be helpful to the cause if I found out exactly who they were working for, and deal with that situation.

Hehehehehe. Yeah, that might alleviate the boredom a bit. Maybe once I find our adorable little Normy Norm boss of interest, I'll invite him to dinner too.

Thought Control

Been doing a lot of thinking lately. Why? Because THERE IS NOTHING ELSE TO FUCKING DO AROUND HERE. Thinking and talking to myself spares me from having to deal with these insufferable jackasses I now live with.  Why the hell do we even have Whats-her-name and Jokes, huh? The former is a faithless little shit, and the latter is just plain old shit. Fucking Gray at least has potential to be a crafter. Maybe even a fucking powerhouse one? That stuff is rough on the brain, I hear, which might explain the split personality thing. Whatever. I only have a couple uses for him in mind, if and when the time comes.

I can't believe I'm working for the frigging Whore of Babylon here. What a fucking downgrade. Had a chat with the most useless member of our little Family, about Miss Babylon's possible back-story. Former member of the Dumbass Bureaucracy we got rid of a few years back. Don't know if she was a Higher, or what, but I certainly had never heard of her. The story goes that, after the fall of the Bureaucracy, Father personally led her to a hidden cache of resources, and... Gave her secret knowledge, and power, so that she could rebuild our Family. I don't buy it. Where the hell was she during the whole Spencelight thing? How about when the Free Market became the, marginally, dominant sect of our Family? The timing of the whole thing seems really fucking suspicious to me. She pops up not all that long after Spencelight finally DIED. And the rumors are fucking true, might I add. She IS Redlight. No question. For some fucking reason a lot of these morons don't believe that. But what I want to know... Is she a NEW Redlight, or is she just lingering remnants of Spencer, playing some kind of game? Whatever she is... Redlight has picked up new tricks... But assuming she IS a new Redlight, I don't quite think she is up to par with the other two.

The last two Redlights... They were something special. The first guy, I dunno who he really was or why he was the way he was, was a goddamn terror. I wonder if that old rumor about him being Sage Jay was true... Funny, the little things you think about when you are bored, isn't it? And then there was Spencer. Too arrogant for his own good, but by Father, if he was in charge of this little Family, we wouldn't be in this mess with the [Redacted]. Oh MAN, can you imagine what kind of torture [Redacted] and [Redacted] would be under right now? I heard what he... Did... To Screamer... And he kinda sorta liked and respected Screamer. I can't even imagine what he would have done to Sloth... Heheheheh.

But the Devil is dead. And all we are left with is a leftover from the apocalypse. Heh. Big shoes to fill, Babsy. You haven't impressed me so far, and if I am unimpressed, I cannot IMAGINE how boring Father finds you. You have my leash for now, but don't forget who made that possible. If he abandons you, your leash abandons ME... Then I eat you, and clean up the mess you are letting lay around and spread.

It is stupidity, really. Free Market ethics probably made all the Mr. Funerals of the Family happy, but don't forget. They don't last long anyway. The long lasting members of our big, bloody, family are the little sweet boys and girls like ME. We're the tools that add variety, the spice of life, to Father's little hunt. We're the harriers who flush out the prey just when they think they have gotten an edge. We chase them down for Father's delight, and I have never ONCE killed a target Father didn't want me to. When push comes to shove... Most of the family will side with how things were, and should be. Mark my words.

Which reminds me. I REALLY need to go say HEY to some of our... Cousins. See what they think of the Free Market Ethics. Don't get me wrong here... I am sure they are perfectly happy with us not killstealing anymore, but that whole "Defend the Runners" bullshit probably has a few of them a little bit pissed. Maybe those darling Doctors might be willing to assist. I remember a couple that used to work with Screamer, from time to time. Maybe we can help them continue with their sacred mission from their Diseased God. Maybe the Beak will owe us a favor for it... Maybe... I dunno, it may be a stretch but at least maybe... Pull just ONE person out of the Castle. Maybe...

Pffft. Thoughts for the future, I guess. I would end this with a few vague threats of violence, but really, who the hell reads these anymore? The Blog fad died out, once Runners started figuring out that we did it too. Heheheheheh. Good times. But now it is just us, and some soon to be dead stragglers. Despite the Cat's intentions, and best efforts.

The Height of the Ceiling

I didn't sleep last night.  I guess I probably should have been writing up this post in all that free time I had, but honestly, it never occurred to me.  I was just laying there in the dark for hours, too excited to sleep, too confused to sort through my thoughts.  It's all a bit beyond me still.  But the lesson is clear.

Magic is real.

I've read a lot of blogs on here, from people who went through all this stuff in the past.  I'm living with a self-proclaimed witch, and a man who I'm pretty sure has come back from the dead several times, but they're all just things I've been told or read, you know?  There was never any proof.  Sitting in my corner reading the stories of the old sages and such, well, some of them seemed too fantastic to be true.  They were wonderful and inspiring and painful and I wanted to believe them, but I didn't.  Not really.  Even after seeing Him, who cannot ever be reconciled with my...previous concept of reality, I didn't believe in magic.  And I didn't believe that humans could wield it.

Miss Cordelia had been insisting that I was a Crafter, and though she's way smarter than me I didn't honestly believe that either.  I'm not the kind of person who's special, or has any kind of skill.  But she wanted to train me and she's been so kind and she really seemed to think that if I got the skill I could help a lot of people, so I humored her.  I went along with her test.

Besides, I missed her while she was away, it was just so great to have her back.  This whole city scares me a little.

At first I kind of regretted it, following her for that test.  She took me into this awful room and I almost threw up.  It wasn't filled with bodies or anything like that, it was awful in a much more...banal way.  I can't tell you why it dizzied me so much.  Walking in there was like staring at an optical illusion for way too long, I was nauseous and my head hurt and there was this ringing in my ears.

You see, the walls were the wrong shape, and the ceiling was too high.  For the place where the room had been built and the connections of wall and ceiling to be that way, it was just impossible.  It was an impossible room, it was way too big and it was so painful I had to close my eyes and stop looking at it.

Miss Cordelia said that I had the power to fix the room so I tried.  She said to picture the room the way it was supposed to look so I did.  It was easy to figure out what was wrong in the room, and I don't even have any training in architecture.  There were just sections of the room that, when I closed my eyes, felt tight and tampered with and...well this is going to sound dumb but, they felt in pain.  Like someone had taken the room and stretched it beyond what it wanted to be.  So I helped it.

When I opened my eyes, the room was perfect.  Just how it was supposed to look.  It was an incredible kind of magic, and Miss Cordelia told me I had done that.  Me.  Gray!  I who have never done anything right!  I fixed the room!

Miss Cordelia doesn't know this, but while I couldn't sleep I sneaked out of my room and back to that one.  I measured the ceiling in relation to my height and I raised it and lowered it just to prove I wasn't dreaming.  It's just incredible.

I'm so tired, I should take a nap, but I don't want to.  I want to have another lesson.  I want to try and turn the walls purple, I bet I could do that.  I want to go and find pieces of the world that are broken and fix them.  That way the stretched out walls would stop screaming in pain and I could finally get some silence.

Catch you later,

Gray.

District Duty

Okay okay okay. I'm late, yeah yeah, I fucking know that.

But you know what? You try policing an entire city block of proxies for a few weeks, keeping them from drinking themselves to death- or worse- in a city like this. You see how much fucking time you have for writing up blog posts about who you are, what you do, all that shit. Especially when you know nobody gives a shit, am I right? Right.

I'm serious. My codename is Jokes, but this is the fucking business I'm in: keeping our residential district in check when the boss lady is away. And she has been away, so, here the fuck I am. Finally getting around to this thing. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say. Tell a joke, maybe? Everybody always likes it when I tell jokes. Here's one:

A Bear and a Hare are traipsing through the forest one day, and both of them stumble upon a genie. Genie pops out, says 'You each get three wishes. What will they be?' 

Bear thinks a bit, says, 'I wish I were the only male bear in the entire forest.'
Hare thinks a bit and finally says, 'I wish I had a motorcycle.'
The Genie grants both their wishes and asks, 'what will be your second wish?'

The Bear doesn't think this time, says, 'I wish I were the only male bear in the entire country.'
The Hare says, 'I wish I had a motorcycle helmet.'
The Genie grants those wishes, too. He asks, 'What is your final wish?'

The Bear says, 'I wish I were the only male bear, period.'
The Hare smiles and says, 'I wish the Bear was gay.'

Ha ha.

I got more but don't have the time to tell 'em. Fuck you, that's why. This place is a mad house when the Witch is out. She left a little while ago to broker her deal with that Cult Leader chick, calls herself the Fire online. You know I have never known a cult to actually call itself a cult? That's a goddamn joke right there, you wonder why anybody joins up. Then again, you wonder why anyone becomes a proxy in the first place.

That's not to say anyone ought to question my loyalty! No, fuck that, I've been in this for seventeen years. I'm not getting out any time soon, especially not under Cordelia's watch. We're doing real good work with her, better than I've seen in years. I mean that. She doesn't get called a witch for no reason, y'know? A lot of the stuff we do is these rituals...you've never seen so many proxies in the same place that weren't Shells(you know the type. No brains, get their orders direct from Father, like He's got a USB cord plugged into the back of their head and shit.)

It's not like the bureaucrats, all paperwork and business. It's some mystic shit, designed to strengthen Father's hold over this plane of existence. The boss lady's room is covered in it; tapestries on the walls, weird plants in every corner, and little artifacts she's picked up from travelling around the world. I guess she flew solo for a few years before starting up in Vegas. But all of that shit is why they call her 'The Red Witch.'

Anyway, the deal must be going well, because Vanguard, stone-cold silent brooding asshole that he is, popped up a little while ago and grabbed a couple things as collateral I guess. One of the artifacts from the Witch's stash, some rune or something I dunno, and a girl we've been keeping around for a rainy day. Rainy Day Girl is literally what the boss lady calls her, I dunno what she does. Nobody tells me shit. You'd think they would, after seventeen years, huh?

Hell no. I get stuck on District Duty. But I still haven't even explained what the fuck that is, have I? So lemme lay it out for ya.

See, as is common knowledge these days, Vegas is our primary base of operations right now. We're a cell that stretches a fair ways out from here but this is where most of the important business gets done, and where the Witch spends most of her time. What isn't exactly common knowledge is how homebase is divided. There's the Casino, our primary source of income around here. I'm not sure how the boss lady got ahold of it. She claims Father's divine intervention connected her to the right people, the right resources. In-the-know folks from all around connect with us through there. On top of that is a penthouse of sorts, set up as a multi-person apartment stacked right on top of the Casino. I have a room there, but whenever Cordelia pops out or gets busy, I get sent off site. Over to the District.

The District is a glorified fucking proxy rest stop. It's a city block of apartment buildings, all of which we own, or the Witch owns, whatever. Each building is dedicated to a specific purpose, but all of it is one big proxy living space essentially. Three apartment buildings are set up for conscious proxy life, with another one beside that housing our Shells. That last one is run by the Caretaker, spooky, junkie bitch that she is. Our fellows who pass through, even if they aren't necessarily one of ours, have a dedicated building. Most of these except for the Shellhouse has a recreational area.

But the District needs somebody to watch out for it. Monitoring who is in what building and when, who comes and who goes, and what business everybody has with everyone else. I liken the feeling of trying to keep up with it all to what it must feel like to be a chicken running around without a head. It sucks, it fucking sucks. 'Yeah yeah, do your damn job, Jokes. Quit complaining.'

Well I wouldn't be if it wasn't every time, and if the boss lady wasn't breathing down my neck for a frigging blog post in the middle of all this. It is a shit job, trust me okay? I've got enough to worry about without taking the internet's oh-so-important opinion of things. But whatever, it's not that big of a deal. At least things are quiet in the District for right now. Other than the occasional visit from Morningstar, who likes to fuck with me by "forgetting" to sign in when he shows up or leaves, and spreads really weird rumors around which I then am forced to clarify.

Ha ha.

So what else can I say? Supposedly the boss lady will be back soon, pulling the full weight of the Fire Cult behind her, and who knows what'll happen after that? Probably ol' Jokes will get pushed around by a new batch of folks. That's a pretty safe bet. Until then, I'll be wrangling this District and hopefully nothing will catch on fire. Morningstar, that is not a fucking challenge. I will report your ass to the Witch. Seriously.

Jokes out.

Arisen

So, I want you to imagine being in a very deep sleep. The deepest sleep you have ever experienced. You remember, once, that you had a name, a purpose an identity... But none of it matters anymore. Because you are here. You are asleep. That infinite darkness is all that you care about, no more regrets, no more questions, no more wondering, and its gonna be that way forever. Just calm, safe. Quiet.

Then, all of a sudden, you get this... Little twinge of pain, coursing throughout your consciousness. You are hungry. You want to gnaw, you want to bite, you want to chew, gulp, slurp and devour. Soon you want to fill yourself up with the anything you can, because the hunger is unFUCKINGbearable. You feel around you, blindly, in soundless darkness. It is all you CAN do. So you crawl around and suddenly there is this... Familiar warmth. So familiar, like something out of a long forgotten dream, and not necessarily a good one. You feel something soft, at the center of the warmth, and there are... Vibrations coming from it. Like the beating of a drum.. Faster and faster. And at that point, the hunger overwhelms you and you taste something coppery and wet, as you envelop the warmth and make it a part of you. It feels SO Good. You aren't aware of time, or anything, so you do not know how long it takes to finish the morsel, but as the last wet puddle goes dry, you feel yourself, you own form, for the first time in ages. Arms, your head, a torso, and you can still hear the beating sound of drums enveloped in that succulent coppery warmth. You reach out those new arms of yours and you touch the ground, cold, hard and inedible. Slowly you drag yourself over to that second drum, feeling... No, BASKING in that long forgotten warmth... Ah... But you need MORE. The feast has barely just begun, and that appetizer has merely whet your appetite. You engulf this second writhing mass of wet, sweet liquid, tender meat and tough bone, and you feel yourself becoming whole once again. Legs, feet, toes and skin. In your hunger, you shove that succulent beating drum deep within yourself and hear its noise finally... Fall silent. Yet, there is one more still beating beside it... And something else farther away. You crawl on your half formed belly towards this final course of the feast, and gorge yourself on all the sweetbreads a body has to offer, finally gaining sight and sound once again.

You look down and see that slowly diminishing mass. That sagging sack of skin, as you take its innards into yourself. You can hear the muffled screams that are finally beginning to subside, behind a gag. Eeeeh. Disgusting. Cold, tasteless. You ignore it. You focus on the meal at hand, while your mind wanders and you remember who you are. As you remember, your body begins to mold itself back into place. Eyes that are blue, hair that is white-gold, skin that is pale and not shapeless black mass. You picture yourself as you were, in your clothes, your best tie, your favorite hat, the custom coat, pants and shirt/vest combo made just for you, so you can move around freely while still looking classy as hell. And your body shifts to give it all back to you, only its part of you now, as much as skin, eyes and the Azoth that forms your entire body. AND YOU LAUGH. HAHAHAHA. BECAUSE ITS BEEN SO LONG. SO FUCKING LONG.

And at the height of your elation, you notice that you have an audience. Brown hair and eyes, wearing her shitty red dress and hat, grinning and laughing at the sight before her. A fleshy little suit filled with delectable little organs, with the audacity to smile at me. But it wasn't just the act of smiling. Do you know how annoying that smile was? Like she watching a favorite pet eating a treat given by the master. Little did I fucking know at the time, that was exactly what was happening.

So what does this all mean? Well, I will tell you... Hey Gang. I'm BACK again. DID YOU MISS ME? Old Mishy must be SPINNING IN HER GRAVE by now. Heheheheheheheheh. Wonder how long it will last? But really, what does it matter? I am stuck here now, so I might as well take the opportunity to continue my... Mission, and serve Father.

Ah... I am not alone either. In fact, I now have a NEW little team of freaks and weirdos.

And I hate them.

First we have the bitch who resurrected me again, Cordelia. The Whore of Babylon herself. Our glorious leader, in the service of Father, and the bitch with my leash. I don't know how, exactly, but if I do not do EXACTLY what she tells me to, she can make me HURT. BAD. Which is fucking weird, given that she is not exactly a Crafter of any kind.

Then we have Jokes. Yes, that is his name and yes it is appropriate. But not because he is funny. Spineless shithead sycophant for the Bitch in the Red Dress herself. At least he is pretty fun to mess with. The same cannot be said for dear Vanguard, who I am not entirely convinced is anything more than a robot. Is he mute? I don't know. He has not said shit to me, which in some ways is a blessing, but makes him VERY boring in others. Miss Babylon sure picked a shitty right hand man. Aren't those typically supposed to talk, give ideas and generally do things beyond standing there like a statue?

We also have Gray, our newest little acquisition. A Coward, a pessimist, and completely useless at any task that might be helpful.

He is my favorite.

Not so much his occasional Split Personality, Kor. Who confuses the hell out of me. I didn't even think that was really a THING outside of Father's shenanigans. I would know. But evidently Kor's been around for a while, even before Father got involved with this sad sack of self-loathing.

The last notable, is... I don't even remember her fucking name. Screw her. Kleptomaniac bitch. Femme Arsène Lupin, basically, just without all likability. Gray compares her to Robin Hood. But Gray is a Moron. I miss my old team. They were competent. We got along well. They were not the most annoying, kill-worthy little shits I have ever met.

Ah... Right. This is supposed to be an introduction though, right? Back-story time? Get it out of the way? Fine. Sure. In case some of you morons don't know who I am, I am Morningstar. Professional trash disposal unit. I am... Well I mean. I died at age 19 I think. Or was it 20? Those were rough times. So... Do I count the birthdays I missed due to being dead? Fuck it. Doesn't matter. My history begins in the year 2011, if you know what is good for you. It was Winter' winter, and I had just tortured my Dear Mother and Father to death, messily. It was amateurish, honestly. I had quite the concept of pain at the time, you see, but I still had no idea how to inflict it EFFICIENTLY. Truth be told, torture is a lot of work. All these... Preparations. But the end result usually makes it all worth it.

I digress.

I joined up with Father, He That Is, The Great Tall One, The Arbiter of the Black Woods, etc etc, and became one of his Chosen Proxies. I was taught how to do my job by a Proxy named Nightscream, who is... Sadly deceased... And I amassed a body count that would make some dictators blush, although apparently Miss Babylon wants me to be Gandhi or some shit now. Not that... All the bodies could be found. Heheheheheheheh. See, I developed a taste for human flesh, which makes me a favorite of Cleaning Teams within our little family. Then I died. Then I was brought back by an asshole, and imprinted on a few dozen Hollowed out shells. Then I came back for realsies and helped KILL THE ASSHOLE and his ASSHOLE friends. Then I got mind wiped and effectively erased from life again.

Now I'm back, and here to stay. I have TOTALLY turned over a new leaf guys. Promise. Pinky Swear. Cross my heart and hope to... Well. Oops. Heheheheheheh. No killing for little old me, oh no. Can't make the Cat angry, no sirree. Expect my posts to be SUNSHINE AND FRIGGEN RAINBOWS from now ON.

Would I lie?

The Usual Suspects

So, apparently blogging is a part of organized supernatural crime? Interesting.

My name is Justine. I'm formerly a professional thief. Talking about myself in a public venue therefore doesn't come naturally to me, but I'll give it a try. Up until very recently, I stole various paintings, jewels, and other interesting things and sold them to the highest bidder. It wasn't anything like the movies suggest, but it was a lot of fun all the same. I loved every minute of it.

My new line of work, I'm still not sure about. I'm told that most people involved in this mess started out getting followed by the creepy tall thing and then either start running or get recruited. I'm not sure what inspires people to go towards the tall guy instead of running away from it without outside guidance, but in my case, I never really had any of that. Cordelia hired me for my expertise, which unfortunately involved exposing me to all of this

It's pretty interesting, admittedly, if sometimes downright terrifying. I have to say, having some company for once is nice. The kid is good company whichever personality he has on at the moment. Jokes is sometimes good for some fun, though Morningstar is uncomfortably homicidal and doesn't seem to like me much. In addition, Vegas is a fantastic place to spend both money and downtime. There's literally nothing you can't buy here if you figure out where to look. And thanks to Cordelia, I don't even have to worry about lying low, as she's somehow managed to make my arrest warrants disappear.

Not sure if all of this is worth what seems like an inevitable early demise. The hardest part of all of this has been wrapping my brain around the fact that not only does my new boss apparently deal primarily in murder and kidnapping, but that the odds are good that I may eventually be a victim. I mean, I dealt with organized crime from time to time, which doesn't exactly have a high survivability rating, but at least they're just humans. Cordelia... is definitely not just a human. And that thing is much less so. Morningstar too, it seems like. I think I'd feel safer with superpowers like them. Maybe I'll get some eventually. Who knows.

Anyway, I think that's enough sharing for one night. I'll give someone else a turn.

I'm Not the Funny One

Miss Cordelia said introduce myself, so I’ll introduce myself.

Hi.  My name’s Gray.  I’m fifteen years old, I like the color purple, I’m a high school dropout, I have an alternate personality named The Kor who says hi, by the way, and I’m a runner.

Look at me, summing up my entire self in a sentence.

I’m just kidding, I’ll go into more detail.  Oh that’s another thing about me, my jokes are terrible.  I’d leave the comedy to The Kor but his puns are just painful.  So really, don’t expect much humor from either of us.  I fail to see what there is to laugh at in life most of the time.

I have been a runner since like, September or so.  Actually, runner is a poor term for it since I am constantly staying in one place.  It tends to ruin everything, but that’s me.  I ruin everything.  I’ve killed my dad, I’ve basically killed my mom and I was well on my way to killing myself before Miss Cordelia found me.

If for some reason you care, or maybe you’re just morbidly curious, you can read it in more detail at the blog I kept. It's all there.  I’ll probably keep posting there too.  Call me sentimental, but it’s supposed to be my obituary and so I like keeping my more personal thoughts in my own personal place.  If you don’t feel like reading it then I’ll give you a synopsis:

A pathetic child huddles miserably in the corner of his room crying until he plays with fire and burns everything he’s ever loved.

I’m really on point with those one sentence things.  How convenient that my life is so compressible.

Miss Cordelia pretty much took me in after that, and she’s given me a home.  Even though I’m surrounded by proxies, which kind of terrified me at first, I’m starting to get used to it.  She’s so nice, and no one judges me that I barely come out of my room.  It’s a lot to take in.  I used to live in rural Maine.  The middle of Las Vegas is quite the change.  Overwhelming and noisy would be two good words for it.  Also hot.  Nobody told Nevada that it’s winter.  A lot of Cordelia’s people have been going out and about town, entertaining themselves, but I haven’t really dared to go too far from the house.  Plus I’m too young to gamble or drink so I don’t think that I would find much of this city very fun.

Speaking of the team, I got to meet most of them.  There’s apparently tons of others, but I’ve met all the ones that will be posting on this blog.  Pretty soon probably, because Miss Cordelia has been asking us to introduce ourselves here.

So, I’ll give you some thoughts.  Miss Cordelia first.  She’s super nice.  And she really cares about her team.  She even cares about me despite me not being a proxy.  She’s taken me in and she’s going to train me without asking anything in return.  Oh, the training thing.  She says that apparently I’m a Crafter?  I’m not sure if I believe her yet, but she’s super smart so I guess she’s right.

Vanguard was the second one I met, but less met and more encountered.  He’s super huge, like a football player.  Or a fridge.  But not much for talking.  Kinda really intimidating.  I don’t think I’d like to be in a room alone with him.

Justine is really nice.  She’s a thief apparently, but like, a gentlewoman thief.  Like Robin Hood, I guess.  The Kor really likes her, apparently, which is rare.  And she really likes The Kor which is even rarer cause he kinda has a…strong personality.  I’m happy that they get along.

Jokes I haven’t exactly talked to directly, but I’ve seen him around.  I don’t see him as much cause he doesn’t live in the house.  He seems friendly enough, I don’t know.  Maybe you can get that humor from him since it’s not coming from me.  His name is Jokes, he must be funny, right?

And finally, Morningstar.  This was not someone I ever expected to meet, let alone live under the same roof with.  Or rather, if I did meet him, I didn’t expect to live to type up a blog post about him.  Plus the fact that he died.  Multiple times.  Miss Cordelia said that people get a bit messed up when they die and come back, but he just has this weird feeling.  I can’t explain it like, I’m feeling him without touching him and he’s all squishy and it kinda weirds me out.  Like he’s made of jelly that slides around as he moves.  It’s disturbing, like watching a snake too hard.  I’ve read about him, murdering people and eating people and being generally terrifying but apparently he’s turned a new leaf.  I’m not so trusting that I’ll just believe him, but I also didn’t leave which I guess I could have.  I trust Miss Cordelia if I don’t trust him, and she won’t let him hurt me or anyone else.

We’ll mark him down as another one I don’t want to be alone in a room with.

But this is a group that’s against violence and killing and stuff and I can get behind that.  If we’re all going to die eventually I don’t think it matters whether someone is a proxy or not during their life if it’s what they believe in.  And what helps them be happy.  I have high hopes that I could be happy here.

Catch you later.