NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

After seeing Diana being tossed out like a sack of flour that had gone bad, and seeing at least three people try and fail to brave the storm, Fluffle was more than a little than antsy. Diana's paper was second only to Penny's in taste.

It was time for her to help. Causing mischief could come later. After all, she had the whole span of forever to do that.

Fluffle materialized on the roof, rain bouncing off her fully solidified back, but pouring through her face, tail and the rest of her body. It made her look absolutely grand. She was ready to give her speech.

The pony cleared her throat, the Waffles, No Nets flag waving almost patriotically behind her.

Then Mony started talking to Mick and he moved rope around. What a crazy ghost. Fluffle shook her head. She wasn’t upset that he’d shut her down before she’d started. She was upset because HER BACK WAS FREEZING. Fluffle’s ears perked up at the word “gallows”. That sounded like…mallow—it must have been a kind of giant marshmallow! Keeping a close eye on the only ghost with a tail, Fluffle cantered to Mony, bowing slightly to indicate that she was going to be of service to him.

Fluffle recalled the rules of a four legged creature she'd heard of long ago, and she thought it might apply to her old "teacher". If he bowed back, she would be able to help him. Or at least that was how Fluffle thought the rule was. She supposed it wasn't important at this point.

She clamped her great horsy teeth onto a separate end of the rope, leaving one end left, and Mony directed her to where this giant marshmallow thing would be.

Fluffle looked and saw the giant structure from her dream, with a body hanging off of it.

Fluffle’s ears drooped. The rope necklace didn’t look so pretty anymore…Especially not with that swollen, bluish figure hanging off of it...

[Avery]

After saving Dove, Brit has only like, just calmed down, when Dove noticed another frackin' body floating down the makeshift river and went BEZERK! Brit watched on in abject horror as like, Dove fruitlessly yelled at the very-clearly-dead Diana and tried to like, throw a dumb rope down to her. Brit wanted to tell Dove to stop because uhh, the lady was SO TOTES DEAD, but she couldn't force any words out. Instead, she watched as Dove skittered about the roof like a nervous bug, shouting random things and crying before she eventually took like, a random spill and skinned her knee.

Then, Dove said, "I'm afraid I can't let you stop me on going on my mission. In the honor of every innocent friend who has died thus far, I have to keep the rest of us innocents alive. We can't let evil prevail. If the pursuit of justice is a path I must take alone, I will."

Brit was flabber-ghasted. Ummm, what? She had just risked her life to stop this like, idiot girl from jumping off the roof... and the dumby was just gonna do it again!? Like, this Dove chick was even dumber than... than... than... COURTKNEE!

"Fine!" Britknee yelled back. "If you like, wanna die, go ahead! I won't try and save you again!"

Britknee dramatically started back towards the trapdoor, but had only made it a step before she reconsidered. After all, the people in the attic had just umm, KILLED SOMEONE. And Brit had no idea if the mafia was to blame, or it was another so-called execution, or what. Who knew the atmosphere down in the attic right now!? Like, for all she knew, the second she came back, they'd KILL HER TOO.

... but what about Snuggles? OH EM GEE! Snuggles! No matter what was happening in that attic, Brit knew she couldn't just leave Snuggles.

"HAVE FUN DYING!" she shrieked at Dove, and then she started back towards the trapdoor.

But she hadn't made it all the way there when she noticed more stupid country bumpkins trying to jump themselves to early deaths! That alien chick and bird guy were totes trying to scamper off the roof; she caught them just as Osilon reached out for Tracy and tried to bring both of them to the grave. Uhh, hello! GRAVITY! You can't just slide down a gutter like a frackin' like, superhero, especially not in a hellish rainstorm!

As a bolt of lightning cracked overhead, Britknee yelled at Osi and Tracy, "WHAT THE FLIPPING FLACKING FRACKING ARE YOU LIKE, DOING!?"

[Tiger]

Mick watched nervously as Dove ventured out onto the roof - though he barely recognized her at first, having been on a different plane of existence when the anime-obsessed girl had entered the diner in her elaborate costume. They'd noticed his maze of footfalls and handholds, and for a moment, he felt a great surge of pride and excitment.

"Y'know, if it's wet enough, they're gonna slip and die anyway." Mick seriously considered throwing the earpiece into the water. He didn't, suspecting that it would only add years to his sentence, and Metastophelous probably had ways of talking to him without the earpiece.

But, he told himself, things were going okay. He'd stick with the supply-gathering party - maybe keep underneath them so he could find ways to cushion their fall if he needed to. And if there were extra supplies the group couldn't take, well, Mick could leave them outside the attic. Things might be all right...as long as the mafia weren't in the restaurant...but they weren't foolish enough to commit murder when outnumbered the other Waffleneters...

There was a buzz of static through the earpiece, and Meta muttered, "Ah, cr-"

The window banged open, and someone - Diana? - tumbled out. Mick froze for a second, then dove even as he realized it was too late. Meta shouted, "You can't grab her, Mick!" Diana hit the ground; Mick plunged through the fresh corpse, through the street, and into a layer of clay far beneath the town.

He twisted back up and shot back out of the earth; he was getting a lot better at this, some too-calm corner of his mind noticed. Just as the ghost cleared the water, memories struck him like slaps to the back of the head - Diana approaching Mick and two others - Diana with a small but deadly pistol - Diana talking about Wafflenet as a blurb, a footnote, a set of words in her book.

"...She was mafia," Mick said.

"Angelo, it's perfectly fine to assume we're all on the same page as you. Actually, you should start just assuming we're in the next chapter of the whole book. Now, you wanna cry over your fellow murderer's body, or wait around for her ghost so you can relive all your happy memories, or would you rather get back to your job?"

Mick nodded slightly, hovering back to rooftop height with the absense of his racing pulse feeling obvious as the rain. Britknee, Osilion, and Tracy had joined Dove on the roof - the course Mick had set up wasn't even useful at this point, he realized, the roofs were too wet, and -

"Kid, I've got a ghost on your...oh, look around, I'm not looking up the codeword to give you directions!"

Mick spun toward the diner, fully expecting to see Diana. But the ghost tying rope to the porch rails wasn't even a woman - or maybe he was...Mick squinted, then his eyes went wide. Mony?

He was too stunned to even fly off as the ghost approached him, though Meta muttered a curse in his ear and he was remembering the...whatever, Metastophelous was,'s advice to avoid the ghosts...and things had already gone poorly with Fluffle.

"We need to get the other end of that tied to the gallows as a guideline. Then from there, we can tie more rope to wherever the living people 'round here need to go. Can you help me out? That ought to knock a bit of time off whatever sort of purgatory you've gotten yourself into."

"How'd you know - "

"Angelo, if you push the fourth wall's integrity any more than it alread is..."

"Nevermind." He concentrated on the rope, and managed to grab the end Mony offered him. Before he could ask for any clarification or get flying or listen to Meta scold him for something or other, Fluffle appeared and took the other end of the rope. She was watching Mick cautiously, until her attention went to the gallows, where...

Mick's stomach would have twisted if it had still been corporeal. Unless the townsfolk had found someone else to hang, that was him up there.

"Oooh. That's not gonna be a pretty sight. But hey, kid, it's technically not you anymore."

He wanted to say that that didn't help, but he was finally understanding that Metastopheles wasn't really supposed to be helpful. "I'll - I'll take care of the gallows," Mick said to Fluffle. "You take the other end and help Mony over here."

((Feel free to assume Mick's gone to the gallows, tied the rope, gone through the appropriate trauma of seeing your own corpse, dealt with Metastophelous' comment, and came back to Mony and Fluffle if it makes it convenient for other posts ^^))

[Lizica]

With the help of both Osilon and Courtknee, Tracy made it to her feet on the roof of Waffles, No Nets. She finally got a solid footing.

"Thank you," she said, breathing heavily.

"WHAT THE FLIPPING FLACKING FRACKING ARE YOU LIKE, DOING!?" Courtknee yelled.

She was upset. Very. As all of them should be, but now was not the time.

"We're going to the Shipshape Shop!" Tracy cried over the rain and thunder. "The supplies might be destroyed if we wait too long, and the town needs them! This is huge, and we can't let them win! We've...got to..."

She stopped. Slowly pointed in confusion. Her eyes had caught movement through the sheets of rain: Some distant object was moving against the wind.

...Rope?

She might have also caught glimpses of ghostly, bluish shimmerings amidst the rain, but they were all but invisible in this weather. Floating rope was tying itself around the diner's porch, around the gallows, around the chimney of the neighboring building... If this was the work of Wafflenet's ghosts--this could not be a trap.

She turned back to Courtknee, Osilon, and Dove.

"We can do it!" she declared, and, swiftly gauging the distance from the rooftop path the birdwatcher had pointed out to the mysteriously open window and the dangling guideline, Tracy straightened her ballcap with determination. Before Courtknee could try to interject again, Tracy hurdled the distance, shoe scraping the open window, hand seizing the rope. She hoisted herself up onto the next rooftop, her hands already feeling the rope burn. But that was fine.

Tracy turned back to the others on the diner's roof and gave them an affirmative thumbs up.

Suddenly, a damp scrap of paper blew haphazardly through the air and smacked her in the face. She almost slipped again in surprise, but luckily the rope held firm. Peeling the paper from her nose, Tracy examined it--how strange, it was a code made with...semi-circles? Hoof prints? An inky hand at the top pointed upwards.

Tracy looked up, waved apologetically to the others, and gave the thumbs-up again before stashing the code into her pocket for later. Maybe it could help.

[Robyn]

Britknee-chan had been upset, but that was understandable. Her great concern for Puella Paloma Columbidae's well-being sent her into a flight of emotion, but in the complicated, subtle language of the tsundere, angry outbursts were pretty much the same thing as a tender embrace between friends and a gentle, "Be careful," whispered against the wind. It was really very sweet of her.

PPC was about to thank her, but for some reason Britknee-chan stalked over to the other side of the roof where apparently something else was happening. She hadn't heard Chaetura-san slip down the shingles (and only much later would she realize that the scepter she spent 4 hours sculpting and painting had been lost to the flood), but as she turned, she saw her helping Chaetura-san up off of a perilous slope...as well as Osilon. His hair was matted around his goggles from the rain, and the scent of damp leaves and nest moss permeated the fog.

Ugh, Dove thought, more like Grossilon.

Chaetura-san interrupted probably the worst and only pun Dove would ever make. "We're going to the Shipshape Shop! The supplies might be destroyed if we wait too long, and the town needs them! This is huge, and we can't let them win! We've...got to..."

Her baseball hat glinted as lightning flashed, and she turned to face the other building, expression going slack. Puella Paloma Columbidae wondered what her eccentric friend could be staring at until she saw a rope, against all odds, holding against the storm and inviting them across. Chaetura-san needed no further prompting and leapt over, scaling the next building easily.

Dove was a mite disappointed; she'd wanted to go first. However, it seemed that she wasn't the only one who wanted justice for her town, and the thought of a potential magical girl squad was making her forget all about her previous inhibitions and the failure to reach Pallada-san.

"Uwaa, Chaetura-san! That was soooo sugoi!" Dove called, hands clasped in admiration. She then jumped up and down a few times, shaking out her arms to limber up. "Alright, I'm coming next! Watch as the magical winds of the Pure Egret lift me across to safety!"

Puella Paloma Columbidae posed, got a running start, and took a leap for the rope just as Chaetura-san had, only to immediately slip on a stray ribbon hanging halfway over the edge of the gutter.

There was a moment of panic-- the sharp, stabbing thrill of a misstep where the body slices through air, arms reaching and finding nothing, the reality of a freak accident death overtaking you-- and then she managed to snag onto the rope by one hand, instantly feeling the ache of her whole body's weight suspended below her wrist. She was hanging a good few feet away from the building, and she could feel the spray of the rising water lap at her ankles.

Pure Egret, my foot, she bitterly thought.

Puella Paloma Columbidae bit back a cry of frustration and looked to the roof. She considered calling out to them for help, but she knew Britknee-chan would be far too delicate and tsundere to have a chance of helping her, and...well, let's just say the last time she asked Osilon for help was the last time they ever spoke kindly. She furrowed her brow. Puella Paloma Columbidae didn't need his help, or anyone's. She turned out fine then and she'd be fine now.

Gathering all of her divine energy and racing adrenalin into a quick burst, she swung herself towards the building, one hand after another gripping the slick cord, until finally her feet met brick and Chaetura-san helped her the rest of the way up.

Dove brushed her stinging hands off on her skirt and stared at the other side of the roof, daring Osilon to take the risk as well.

(She decided it would be pretty neat if Britknee-chan did as well but there wasn't much of a grudge to be had there.)

[icon]

And then Dove nearly killed herself.

It was, Osi had to admit, a pretty impressive jump. Even under normal circumstances that looked like a pretty tough gap to bridge; add in the wind and rain and he would have stood up and applauded that move, if anyone other than Dove had actually made it. Then he noticed Miss Chaetura already had- huh, go figure.

And now they were counting on him to do the same. He'd done it earlier, he could do it again. Solid footing, running start, leap off the open window, swing onto the rope, hoist self up. It was simple. Besides, he didn't have any Magical Ribbons of Righteously Feathered Hope to slip on, unlike some people.

Brace yourself, get a running start. Slide down the roof, foot on the edge of the gutter, jump onto the edge of the window grip the rope oh cripes that snapping did not sound good. The window was coming unhinged; it wouldn't be able to take much more strain. He shifted his weight off the window, started clambering up the rope; twist, keep going keep shifting gravity, one foot wrong here would mean several feet of mud and water, pull pull oh bad bad bad-

The window snapped off its top hinge, swinging downwards lazily; Osilon gripped the rope, feet scrabbling to grab a hold on the bricks, the ledge, anything that would keep him from plunging. He looked up at Dove and Miss Chaetura, then continued forwards; fingers gripped the gutter as he barely scrabbled up towards the roof. He held out a hand, hoping for a bit of offered support; the sooner they could collect themselves, the sooner they could get onwards for supplies.

[Fraze]

The three ghosts finished tying down the second rope, now forming a path stretching from Waffles, No Nets to the gallows and then on to the Shipshape Shop. The ropes ran several feet above the roiling water.

"How'd you know - "
Once the job had been completed and the surviving townspeople began crossing the makeshift ropeway, Mony responded. "Lucky guess. There're the ghosts of two people who you helped to kill floating around here; possibly more, I'm not sure. I figured you wouldn't feel especially welcome. So you're here either because someone's punishing you, or because you're punishing yourself. Or maybe you just wanted to watch the mayhem, but it doesn't look like that."

Mony watched as Tracy, Dove, and finally Osi made their way to the Shipshape Shop. His nonexistent breath caught in her throat each time the rope creaked; he wasn't sure how well or how long the rope and the knots would hold up.
The people in this town had always been a bit...eccentric. There were conspiracy nuts, people with delusions of grandeur or possibly just delusions, and fanatics whose obsessions outshone everything else in their lives. But it took a real crisis like this to show just how dedicated these eccentrics were--and how surprisingly well they were able to function in spite of it.

"They're gonna need a way to carry the stuff back," Mony told Mick and Fluffle. "It was hard enough for them to get across with four limbs. Doing it with one or two tied up carrying supplies just won't work. And as far as I know, the Shipshape Shop only offers bags on days when All My 'Bloids has a new episode airing." She paused to consider. "There're those nets that were in the box with the ropes. Could you two help me bring them over there? ...And I just realized several years too late that I failed to live up to the 'No Nets' part of the restaurant's name."

[Avery]

Well, apparently none of them super dumb people cared if Brit like, yelled at them about being stupid, 'cos off they went in their attempt to cross the roof or whatevs they were doing. Brit wanted to scream at them again, but like, gosh, she might as well save the breath given that apparently they would listen to like, nothing she said. Urgh! Brit hated when people didn't listen to her! IT WAS SO TOTES UNKEWL!

"Have fun dying," she murmured, and then she stomped back over to the trapdoor, hoisted it open, and went back into the attic, hoping that like, the scary country people wouldn't kill her just like they'd done to Diana.

In the attic, Brit found Snuggles next to like, Sparky. She thanked the man for watching her ickly puppykins, then scooted back over to her corner. Gawsh, how much longer would they be stuck in this dumb place!? Vaguely, Brit wondered if her farm was ok-- and her scary dairy cows-- but like, if not, meh. Maybe then insurance would pay her and she could use that money to move back to city! Yay! That would be super awesome!!!!

All of a suddens, Brit vaguely realised that the old chicken lady, Nora, had been sleeping for a totally long time. Like, in the same place, just totes dead to the world. BUT OHEMGEE. What if the old woman was actually dead to the world!? Uhhh! Brit's stomach twisted and she stared nervously at the Nora. Leaning over, she poked the woman gingerly and said, "Ummm, can you please not be dead?"

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

((I HATE MY HOUSE INTERNET ;-; it's dying a lot now. But I wrote this up from what I could remember. I'm sending it from church.))

Huh. His face went right back to being gentle and sweet. She did what he asked, and let him handle the rope that would be tied to the not-marshmallow. Fluffle wouldn't be eating marshmallows for a while.

Fluffle floated back to her spot and gave her part of rope one last tug. There. That should be secure enough for the living. She looked around. Fluffle thought it rather odd that she was working with her old mentor and the man who was (at least) partially responsible for her death and the deaths of her fellow Freemasons. Fluffle looked at the other ghosts. They didn't seem to be excessively uncomfortable. Penny seemed to be most uneasy with her form and deserved a snuggle. Apart from that, there was no reason to stop working as a team with these two. Penny had gone looking for her...pet, and Alex was on a mission of his own.

The pony hovered beneath the ropes, ever ready to concentrate the fur particles on her back, should one of the living need a hand...er, hoof. Tracy slipped a bit, but she was nudged right back onto the roof. Some others had a bit of trouble, but most didn't require Fluffle's help.

Fluffle heard a faint cry of anguish. She turned around to see--no. She didn't want to see anyone like that. She looked down instead.

(I nearly threw up writing this part haha!)

A swollen, matted, large mass of mud floated slowly down the cobblestone road. It wasn't just mud. There was something pink about it. And there was a reddish hole that had festered, producing a sickly mound of greenish pus. The rain washed away some of Themis as it transported the lump downstream. A pink muzzle. A bow and arrow sticking out. A cupcake-mound shaped tinfoil hat. And fur. The bony, half-eaten legs stuck out straight from the lump as though they had been petrified.

Fluffle refused to look down, up, behind her, anywhere. She shut her eyes. Better for her to be a Fluffsicle than to float down the street like she was some kind of animal!

Fluffle didn't want to reflect on that. She leaped back to the attic, panting fruitlessly, as though she expected the action to help calm her down. She glanced around nervously, circled, circled, circled, in affliction. Sharp, ethereal droplets pricked at her eyes. Oh Celestia that was her oh Celestia that was her oh CELESTIA that was her!...Fluffle thought, if there was any time she wanted to be petted, now was it.

Fluffle looked up. Every rope was secure. She felt a sense of pride that she hadn't felt since before her untimely death. She and Mony and Mick would have to help move the supplies back to the attic but for now--something else needed attention first. An acknowledgement of their collective efforts.

Fluffle extended a hoof in front of her, and the other front hoof to her side. She waited. She frowned. The other ghosts were leaving her high five hanging...

[Celestial]

It was always like that. The best laid plans of the best generals always got undone by the smallest things. History was shaped by small things mushrooming into big things. All the tides and forces tha manipulated humanity over time were made out of the tiny pushes of individuals, individuals that just happened to be pushing in the same direction, whether by coincidence or because they were guided by something. And it only took one slip of her iron self-control for Diana Pallada, PhD, to be putting on a one-woman re-enactment of the Second Defenestration of Prague (technically third) although the circumstances surrounding it were different and it is unlikely that her death was about to percipitate the events of the Thirty Years War.

But she still fell. Her death was quick and painless, her neck neatly broken on impact. As such, Mick had endured a worse death. Diana simply saw the rushing water over the cobblestones and then CRACK! Nothing.

At least, until she opened her eyes. There was a vast, expansive library around Diana filled to the brim with the most unimaginably boring covers that she could see, all marked by an unimaginably complex classmark. The shelves themselves stretched out to infinity, fading into mist after what may or may not have been a mile. Here was probably every single book and journal that was ever published. There had to be a catch.

Diana checked for her notebook and pens. All of it was still there, although her weapons were gone. But it didn't matter, she could do research here and come up with theories until the end of time. As long as she could keep herself occupied, who cared about those townspeople? Why did she need them when she could find out about anything she ever wanted, research what she needed and then write something that only she could understand? For all the sins she had committed in her life, Diana was amazed that somehow she had slipped by the whole judgement thing and gotten into a pretty sweet position. Perhaps historians were not the only ones who should judge individuals on their own terms and not condemn those who were only doing what they thought was right. Or, semi-right at least. Diana had no illusions that what she was doing in the short-term was wrong but in the long-term, her research could have proved a lot. It seemed a shame to leave it behind.

She picked a book off the shelves and opened it in the middle and frowned. There were no citations. She flicked to the back and there was no bibliography. This book did not show its evidence.

She threw it over her shoulder, deeming it worthless and picked out another one. It was the exact same thing. Slowly, her frown turned into a scowl and the pile of books behind her grew larger and larger. She ran around the library, pulling random books out of the shelves. None of them listed their evidence!

Now, Diana did not usually like to assume. But in an infinite library, faced with evidence from several dozen sources out of many, it was safe to assume that this whole place did not have a single work cited between them.

"How do you like your new prison, Dr. Pallada?" asked a voice behind her. Diana turned around to see a man standing beind her. His suit was completely black except for a blood-red tie, matching eyes that were carefully disguised behind gold-rimmed glasses. He looked like a librarian from hell *, which considering the circumstances he probably was.

"It's awful. None of your books show any breadth of research. How could you possibly expect people to trust what they're saying?" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"This is your punishment for your sins, Dr. Pallada," the man grinned. "You shall prove most interesting to watch as you slowly lose your mind."

"I'm still appalled at this. I know this is supposed to be torture but honestly? All this to torture one person? My sins are insignificant compared to some," Diana rolled her eyes. "They should not make you commit such blatant academic misconduct. Besides, I won't go insane just from that. I would simply spend all my time correcting and pencilling in the request for sources while feeling superior to its authors. It would be calming."

"You are...an odd one, Dr. Pallada," the man remarked, raising his eyebrows.

"You know it's true," she replied. The man shrugged and stode up to her, grabing her head. For a moment, Diana felt like her brain was being scooped out with an ice-cream scoop made out of writhing tentacles. It was not a pleasant sensation and she was secretly glad it did not last more than a few seconds.

"Yes, it is unfortunately," the man finally said, wiping his hands. He snapped his fingers and the library vanished, leaving him and Diana in a black void, although she could still see him perfectly. "It will take a while to come up with a new punishment for you. You're such an interesting character."

"Do you like interesting things?" Diana asked him, seeing an opportunity here.

"It keeps me entertained every now and then," the man tiled his head slightly and leaned forward. "What are you proposing, Dr. Pallada? Present it well to me and I might just give you your research grant."

"Let me back up into that town," Diana said simply. "I have unfinished research. I'm going to finish it and then, I'm going to publish it. There's no rule against ghosts publishing books in the academy. With luck, I can set a precedent. And believe me, it is good research indeed."

The man paused to consider it for a minute before giving her a vicious grin.

"Alright, Dr. Pallada, granted. You can have your revenge as long as you give me a show," he held up his finger. "One snag, the ghost quota is full. You'll have to become a zombie or a ghoul or a wight."

"Revenge? I'm all about the research," Diana shrugged. "The revenge is just a bonus. And I am no ghost. I would be a revenant. It has more perks than the regular ghosts anyway and you get to work around the bureaucratic paperwork concerning me."

"Good thinking, Dr. Pallada. Or do you prefer Godmother Pallada?"

"I would have said Dr. Pallada but I quite liked my stint as a mafioso. I'd hate to dismiss it."

The man laughed once and waved his hand. Diana disappeared in front of him.

She returned to find herself back in Wafflenet, the rain still pouring down from the sky, passing through Diana like bullets through paper. She lifted up her hand to find it semi-transparent and glowing red. She grinned, clenching it into a fist. So this was what it meant to be a revenant.

Now if only she had her weapons. They were probably taken from her when she entered hell but perhaps...

Diana traced the current running down the streets, judging how far it was from Waffles, No Nets to there and followed down to where the floodwaters were until she found her body, broken from the fall. It should have freaked her out more to see herself dead like that, with her neck and limbs at such an unnatural angle but as usual, she felt nothing when looking at corpses or was confronted by death. Instead, she merely rifled through her clothes, an easy task when you pass through everything, until she knocked out the derringer pistol, the bullets for it and the vials of poison. However, to Diana's great dismay, she could not pick them up. She tried to concentrate, to make her fingers more solid but as soon as her concentration slipped, she dropped the items again. Diana cursed. It seemed like she would have to leave them there.

She glanced over at the Town Hall. It was a real shame that the silly townspeople would not save their own history but she supposed it did not matter anymore to her. All of her work was to be based on original research. This town was already caught in the grip of the cycle of violence, murder after murder happening without respite, thanks to both her colleagues and the blood-thirst of the townspeople. They were all already on edge because of it, just as they were in Netwaffle. The flow of history in the two towns was similar and Diana was the only one who could pick up on it, who could analyse it and find out why. Yes, she was a player in it, she affected the outcome but she too was subject to the forces that she was writing about. As long as she recognised and acknowledged her own bias, Diana was still a good historian. After all, there was no rule that said the historian had to be a mere observer.

It was a lot more fun to play the game.

_{* And he is completely unrelated to The Librarian from Guild Wars IV, even if in that instance it is in fact, a librarian from hell.}

[Terra]

"My sister, she just had her baby," Don Dan said reluctantly, looking everywhere but at the ghost of his brother-in-law who had resumed posing in his new ethereal outfit. "And she named me his godfather. I'm to attend the baptism in a few weeks...that is, if any of us will be able to escape this godforsaken drowned town."

“You have a sister?” said Blaze. “Interesting. Oh, and congratulations, I guess.”

Blaze stepped away from the conflict between Don Dan and THE PYTHON’s ghost - she could see that this was a family thing, so that was their business. No reason to get involved.

(She hated it when people tried to get involved in her family issues.)

And then Diana started to spout all her hateful garbage about how worthless the town was.

Blaze was, honestly, pretty angry. She may have had her issues with the town, but Diana just sounded deranged. For her to be able to seriously suggest something like a corpse bridge...to save her ARCHIVES, of all things...

Well, let’s just say that Blaze was not altogether unhappy when Diana flew out the window to her death.

“What an idiot,” she muttered to herself.

Then she heard a whimper behind her.

Primrose, somehow, had gotten her snout stuck inside Julie’s mandolin.

“What the hell,” said Blaze. She hurried over to Primrose and tried to pull the mandolin off, but Primrose pulled back, growling.

“Aww,” said Blaze. “That must’ve hurt.”

Then she grabbed hold of the mandolin and yanked harder.

Primrose yelped and pulled away again, then scurried into a corner as quickly as she could with a giant string instrument hanging off her nose.

Blaze looked around for Julie.

“Uh...could you help, by any chance?” she said. “And also sorry. I guess.”

She looked at Primrose, who was curled up on the floor, staring morosely at the mandolin in front of her face.

“Did you have raw meat hidden inside that thing or something?”

[♥ Azzie]

Nora felt something brush against her and whirled around wildly. Seeing nothing, she decided she'd imagined it- until she felt someone poke her and opened her eyes again.

"Dead? No, dear. I'm just tired. I haven't exactly been sleeping the best." She frowned, noticing Britknee's sad expression. "Are you all right?"

((Elsewhere in NTWF, in a shadowy hotel room. Also this is only tangentially related to this RP and you probably won't see these guys in person, though they're probably keeping tabs.))

"Ah, it's a nice afternoon. How are things there?"

"Very interesting, sir. I've been receiving reports of strange activity some distance away."

"Oh?"

"Some sort of village to the north, I believe, whose residents are dying at an alarming rate. There are rumors of a crime syndicate being responsible."

"Really. Does this relate to your project?"

"No, sir. But all has been quiet on that front for some time. I've been attempting to learn about this world in the meantime."

"Good. Keep me posted on the situation about our friend, but don't worry too much. Enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, sir."

[Lizica]

((I hope I'm not rushing anyone. D: If I am, just let me know and I'll pull this back a little.))


Okay. They were getting the hang of this. They could do this. Be stable, stand, run, leap, catch, climb, be stable, stand, aid. Yeah. They could do this.

After helping Dove and then Mr. Osilon onto the roof, the trio followed the rope along to the next roof, and the next, often aided by bridging ladders and other footholds, in addition to the rope.

Tracy found herself zoning out a few times and running over rooftops on autopilot. That was dangerous. Dove and Mr. Osilon had to save her from slipping at twice more.

But she couldn't help it...the sound of rushing water soon became white noise, and she kept thinking, if the aliens were kicking up their game, how she needed to up her game, too. (She had also wondered at one point if her two companions were on good terms. She'd never really paid attention, but they were both here now, and that's what mattered to her, so she quickly lost that train of thought amid her other theories.) So, the code on paper she had just found--what did that mean? Had she accidentally intercepted a secret code intended for someone above the clouds? It was certainly unlike any other extraterrestrial code she had previously tried to crack. But it made perfect sense for the aliens to try and shake off their enemies by using a new code for an Earth outpost. But what could the semi-circles mean?

A-HA! Semi-circles! (Whoops, hang on, don't slip.) ...Semi-circles were often found in the crop circles in Wafflenet's surrounding farms. The Johnsons' corn field, the old detective's family farm, the old Mahb place, even the dairy farm Britknee and Courtknee had purchased had had a fair share of alien activity.

And if the semi-circle code indicated certain places, and if the code symbols wagged up and down and around, and if the town of Wafflenet was connected just like these interconnected rooftops...

"A-HA!!" Tracy said, this time aloud without thinking. "It's like bees communicating through dance! I--oh! Aargh, dangit, sorry, hold on a second. Okay. I'm okay. Thank you."

Okay, solid footing again.

...Anyway, so maybe she didn't really know anything about bees. She was probably wrong. The code she had intercepted might be a set-up. But hey, it was a start, and if all went well, she might be able to catch those aliens off-guard. They were still out there, waiting to strike again. But she was not alone in wanting to help the town. And their getting supplies would definitely help. That was an encouraging thought.

Tracy suddenly landed with a crunch on the rooftop. She paused, perplexed, and looked down, and was relieved to see that she was standing on her homemade tin foil shingles of the Shipshape Shop. The aluminum roofing was nnnnnot exactly holding up well against the storm, and they were all soaking wet, and their hands were raw and red from the rope--but they had made it, and it was good to be here.

"This way!" Tracy said to Dove over the rain. (Mr. Osilon probably already knew where they were going.) "We may have to climb down the radio tower--" (Desperate times called for desperate measures.) "--and into the attic--" (Hopefully her tenant wouldn't mind?) "--and from there we can go down the stairs into the shop! We'll want blankets, lamps, tin foil, batteries, and any food that's still edible!"

And to the invisible air (not the sky; aliens occupied the sky, but ghosts occupied the air), Tracy gave a wave of thanks.

Okay, now.

[icon]

Osi was surprised at how quickly they got to the Shipshape Shop. He hadn't much been focusing while they all made their ways to the general store's roof, though the rain certainly posed more of a challenge than he otherwise would have had without it. But they were here now, if a bit disheveled.

Miss Chaetura was talking about the plans to get into the store; that was something he could do. With a damp crinkly sloshing sound, Osilon scrabbled off the tinfoil-coated roof and swung onto the radio tower. Twist your weight, slide down, swing it around, lean over a bit and grab at the attic window whoops what was that creaking sound? He hoped that his landlady wouldn't mind the damage to her tower if she could get at her precious tinfoil. And supplies too, those were important. But mostly tinfoil.

Lean forwards, grip the window, swing it open and clamber inside; water would start sloshing into his room, but at this point he was too wet to care. He motioned eagerly for Miss Chaetura to climb down the tower, come inside, open the hall past his room down to the stairs so he and Dove could-

He almost swore¹. Dove! She was here, and she was here now, and she would have to come through his room, and he couldn't let her do that! Especially not now, of all times! He knew that it was hypocritical to come this far and bar her from entering the Nest; townspeople had sacrificed their lives, Miss Chaetura had sacrificed her radio tower, but this was different. She was different².

He frowned, keeping the window open, but gripping it with a rather tentative expression. He didn't know what would happen next, but he wanted it over as soon as possible.


¹Or rather, would have almost sworn, if it weren't for the whole "no talking" thing.

²Admittedly, he thought, she had been up there before. But that was usually without his permission, and generally ended with her leaving behind a flock of angry doves.

[Robyn]

Oh-ho-ho, she knew that look. The slight turn of the lip, the crease over the goggles, and the glaring indecision written all over his face... Like she hadn't seen THAT somewhere before.

Dove didn't know who Osi thought he was kidding. They both knew this was a situation that neither of them would have chosen. Though it was true that she had perhaps "visited" his loft every now and again to set another revenge flock trap into place, or have one of her doves tap on this very window to deliver such eloquently written messages such as "ur dumb" and "unsugoi bakaface birdnerd", she made it a priority not to stay and dawdle. It was uncomfortable territory, to say the least. What, did he think she WANTED to be there? To have to pass through that dark little rathole of migration maps and framed feathers? As if.

There was a time where she would have actually enjoyed that, perhaps, but thanks to Osi her birdwatching days were long over. (And he'd taken it waaaaaay too far over the years. Like, yikes.)

She saw Chaetura-san looking at her questioningly. Oh, right, she actually had to go in. Osi wasn't going to like that, but you know what? For once, they could suffer together. Puella Paloma Columbidae huffed, tossed her soaking pigtails over her shoulders, and gracefully vaulted into the attic, sticking the landing in true magical girl style.

Osi backed up to let Chaetura-san in lastly, and inadvertently bumped into Dove.

"KYAA!" she screeched in surprise, jumping a full foot up and away. "Ugh, watch it, tailfeathers! Just because I agreed to go on this mission doesn't mean I signed up for actually making any kind of contact with you."

She could feel the glare coming from underneath his specs, but as usual, there were more important things to be dealt with. The supplies were only a staircase away! Eager to get out of this dump and finally, FINALLY save the town, Dove bounded out of the room and headed down the stairs, where the corridor going down the the shop area was becoming darker and darker with each step forward.

(( Hope I didn't push anyone along too fast either? C: ))