Recent Entries

{navigation}

spam - slightly backdated to earlier in the week.

[For the first time since Philip arrived on the Barge, it's felt like home. Not in the sense that's he had some sort of sudden attachment to the place, of course, but all of this feels more normal to him than anything.]

[He had been one of the ones left on the Barge and he had immediately hunkered down on his own. As far as he was concerned, it was everyone for themselves once the unnatural things began appearing on-board. Despite the lack of weaponry--something he still resents--he managed just fine without anyone else to look after. Not that there's really anyone here that he feels he might go out of his way to help. But live or die, he thrived while the Barge was falling apart. He felt...alive.]

[And now he busies himself with the clean-up. It's not that he particularly cares one way or another about the status of the Barge, but with the electricity acting the way it is, clear paths in the hallway would be nice. He does this by himself, leaving some of the heavier lifting for those that can manage it by themselves or in teams. But anyone observing him will likely notice the practiced ease with which he drags along the now truly deceased undead before hefting them overboard off the deck.]

Entry tags:

♕ 006 spam

spam.

[In the early days of the port, Philip is down in the basement. He's commandeered himself a sword that isn't going to be missed by anyone living. Not his first choice by a long shot, but that will be a conversation with his warden for another time. He holds his own just fine in the servants' quarters. He's smart enough to try and avoid a fight if he can and even smarter to avoid touching any of the webs, but he does fine even when there are two or three spiders interested in what they think will be an easy dinner.]

[He makes relatively quick progress until he reaches the opera house. There he has a little more trouble moving on or back to the safety of the mezzanine. He refuses to stop and watch any of the "plays" being performed, but it's impossible for him to avoid being roped into a performance. Faced with the ghosts of his daughter and the woman he blamed for her death, he stands stock still, his sword falling from his hands with a loud clatter.]

[One way or another, he manages to escape the opera house. He's shakened by what happened there, even if he will not admit or show it to anyone else that might find him after that little "performance." He's not even trying to make it past the broken stair right away. Time unravels here as he seems to endlessly wander up and down until it seems to no longer matter. He can't keep going up and down forever though, so eventually he does take a seat on one of the steps. He's not giving up, but he needs to figure out which way is actually up and which way is down. He just...needs a minute.]

((ooc: You're free to pick anything from the library and down even if not mentioned explicitly here!))

Entry tags:

♕ 005 voice

voice.

[Philip doesn't say anything. He just clicks the communicator on and off every so often throughout the the day. Listening. Because there isn't anyone in particular he wants to hear from, but he'd rather not be blindsided all the same.]

((ooc: yep. that's his fourth wall day post. v_v))

Entry tags:

♕ 004 spam

	spam. [The Captain walks through the queen's encampment at a brisk pace. Most will move out of his way at his approach. He's not exactly well-known for his patience so much as the ways in which he's earned each and every scar. Those that don't get an icy one-eyed stare and the barest hint of growl until they do with very few and rare exceptions. More than his reputation, however, the Captain isn't here to socialize or to even prepare for war. He's being dispatched after the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve and he fully intends to bring them in. Once he's to the edge of camp, he lets out a loud and rising howl to call upon those that follow his lead and thus begin the hunt.] [His pace is quick and relentless. Although he prefers to run alone, he's never truly. There are always others ghosting alongside him as he follows the scents even as he sends some of his pack in other directions. The Captain rests sometimes, finding a place to hunker down long enough for food, water, and maybe an hour of sleep where he is upwind and not easily spotted. And then he's right back at it again.] [The only other exception he makes is when he happens across those who oppose the White Witch. The Captain will never pass a chance to eliminate them. But first, he will extract as much information out of them as possible. If they give him enough, he may be so kind as to leave them for dead. If he's dissatisfied, however, or in a particular mood, there's nothing that can save them.] ((ooc: spam/prose is all good; i will follow your lead. you can basically find him wherever. those that are siding with aslan or no one are likely to be met with lotsa hostility.))


	spam - gene & dean. [A few days have gone by since the Captain began his search for the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. He's come close a few times to catching them, but there have been a few...impediments along the way. At this point, he is chasing after them at a maddening pace. He's abandoned his hunting party, sending them in other directions to avoid spreading the pack too thin. It's perhaps a foolhardy mistake to be traveling alone, but he can move faster without others slowing him down.] [It's while he's on his own that he picks up a fresh scent. He sniffs the tree where someone had once been resting against for a few seconds when he recognizes the scent.] [Gene.] [The little bastard had tried to kill the White Witch after she had showered him with nothing but kindness and affection. The very fact she let him live when she first found him was far more than he deserved. Of all the humans eluding him, tearing the throat out of this one sounded the most appealing to the Captain. He throws back his head, letting out a long howl that he's picked up a fresh scent. He may be moving on his own and the pack may be a ways away, but he wants them to converge so that there's no chance of escape.] [It may alert his prey as well, of course, but the Captain sees no problem in that. What's a hunt without striking a little fear into the prey first?]

Entry tags:

♕ 003 spam/private

spam.

[Philip comes out of his room only when strictly necessary. But lately, he's having to spend more time right outside his door when he does emerge. It seems like every time he opens his door again, there Christmas decorations on nearby doors and around the hallway have somehow managed to reproduce themselves and spill over onto his door. Each time, he takes the time to take it off. Everything finds its way to the floor, crumpled up and certainly worse for wear before he moves it aside with a foot. He'd like to think after the first time whoever is decorating his door would get the hint, but here he is once again having to take down decorations.]

[Once his door is clear again, Philip heads to the cafeteria to eat. He prefers sitting by himself. Anyone who sits at his table generally just gets a brief glance in their direction before he goes back to finishing his meal. Some of it leaves with him, particularly anything nonperishable. It saves him from having to be around people much, but it also let's him start a stockpile. Paranoia and old habits die incredibly hard.]

[Other times, Philip can be found in the library--usually there just long enough to pick something and then he's off--or in the hallways as he's making his way back to his cabin.]

( shortest )

Entry tags:

♕ 002 video/spam

video - first day of flood.

[Philip is sitting on his knees, leaning forward on the desk. In his hands, he's playing with the eyepatch he found. Almost nearly out of frame is a family photo on the shelf behind him. He set it back upright when he found it facedown earlier.]

Soooo... [He scrunches his nose.] What is there to do for fun around here? 'Cause this room doesn't have any toys or anything. And if it's gonna be a while before we can go home...

[Philip heaves a sigh. He is asking the hard hitting questions today, okay.]

spam - remainder of flood.

[Philip is about as busy as a seven year old can get with no school and absolutely no other responsibilities. By which the narration means that he is busy instigating snowball fights on the deck. It doesn't matter how old you are, he's probably pelting you with snowballs from behind the safety of the fort he's constructed for himself. No one is safe. Unless of course you surrender. Then he might let you hang out behind the fort with him and pelt other poor passers-by.]

[But even seven year olds tire out some from snowball fights. When he's done for at least a little while, Philip can be found in the cafeteria, usually with a mug of hot cocoa and marshmallows that is way too big for him. He'll be damned though if he doesn't drink the whole thing anyway. Once in a while he might be found in the library, on the hunt for something to read or watch. But mostly he's just in there so he doesn't have to sit in the room that he feels like belongs to another person, another family.]

((ooc: all responses will be coming from

broughtapplejuice))

Entry tags:

♕ 001 spam/text

open spam - anywhere.
[Disoriented is a word for what Philip feels upon waking on the Barge. There's a dull throb of pain in his chest and his head, things he know he should be dead from, and his shirt is still slick with blood. He also recognizes the room he wakes up in with everything where it should be, but he knows it should burned out. The view outside the windows, however, aren't looking out into the streets of Woodbury, but an infinite void. He isn't sure if this is what death is supposed to be like, but he has a feeling it's not because it feels very much alive.]

[He's willing to stay as long as it takes to change and clean the blood off his face, but no longer than that. He doesn't feel particularly keen on lingering in a room with this many reminders right now. Already he's trying hard to not think of what just happened, the large amount of nothing he just left behind once more. He looks for any of his weapons before leaving to find them gone. So perhaps not everything is in its place. But no matter. He can improvise if the situation calls for it.]

[Stepping outside into the hall, he still doesn't know what to make of any of this. but if there's one thing he knows, it's that he needs to get his bearings and so he sets off to learn the layout of wherever the hell he's ended up.]

text.

[Later, after he's had the chance to explore and numerous explanations and perspectives on what this place is, he only has one question:]

How many of you are here?

{soundtrack}

YOU CAN'T THINK FOREVER
sooner or later YOU HAVE TO MAKE A MOVE

{ soundtrack }

coding stolen with permission from

youwillgotohell

{permissions}

( Permissions )

{application | last voyages}

( application )

Entry tags:

!inventory,
#ooc

{inventory}

{ inventory }

things;

⇒ glass eye {arkin}
⇒ ~~board game made during flood {kieren}~~ destroyed
⇒ mountain ash + instructions {clementine}
⇒ complete works of william shakespeare {admiral} (why???)

lives;