Princess Rosella of Daventry

[Filtered from Known DELILAH Members | Blue's Codes | Unhackable]

To-Do This Week
--Baking

o) Pies (all the good kinds)
o) Christmas cookies
o) Other cookies so I don't eat all the Christmas cookies
o) Gingerbread houses!

--Shopping (Food)

o) Christmas dinner things
o) Extra flour
o) Candy for decorating gingerbread houses
o) Dinner things for Miss Saya's friends at the Warehouse

--Shopping (Presents)

o) Christmas presents
o) Birthday presents
o) New bells for Valor's harness

--Other Things

o) Make Edmund get up and about
o) Christmas tree!
o) Dust the Warehouse
o) Visit Ellington (with a present?) What does one get a lake monster, anyway?
o) NO UNICORNS
o) Do all this regardless of curses
o) And without sounding like Mother any more than I have already

Well, I suppose that might be a lofty set of goals, but there's only six more days until Christmas and it's certainly not going to manage itself! So there's nothing to do but get right to it, after all. And of course, there's no better way to let alone a silly weekend than by keeping busy, either.


[OOC: So, people staying in the Warehouse courtesy of Saya: hi, there! Meet Rosella. She's been a little spotty around the place lately for unrelated reasons (which is also my handy excuse for why she may not have met your characters in person), but she's been popping in to cook and clean every so often, so feel free to have noticed her, recognize her as Saya's sweet blonde princessy roommate, observe that she is the reason why the refrigerator never seems to go empty, etc. ♥]

( Private to Self || Hackable by Friends )

[Filtered from Known DELILAH Members | Blue's Codes | Unhackable]

I, er...that is, this may sound like a terribly odd question, but the Network does seem to be rather full of strange feelings and experiences today, so perhaps it's not so odd after all. But it's something that's been bothering me all day, and if anyone could help me find an answer to it, I'd really very much appreciate it--

What in the world is Turkish Delight? And, er, would anyone happen to know where I could get some? I know it sounds terribly silly, but I was promised some in a dream, and I never did get to have any before I woke up, so...

Well, er. I suppose I'd just like to have a taste of it, that's all. Whatever it may be.


[OOC: And today Rosella has wandbreaker memory of...selling out his family for Turkish Delight. OH BOY. The dangers of having a sweet tooth!]

( Handwritten | Off-Network )

[Filtered from Alexis Hargreaves | Blue's Codes | Unhackable]

It's really an awful thing, that feeling of knowing something, and knowing one knows it, but finding that one simply...can't recall it. As though it's on the tip of your tongue and if you could just...

I still have that feeling about Valentine's Day, a few years back. Moreso than just today, that is, because I think today there might be a curse about it, since quite a few people on the Network seem to be rather forgetful and one thing I haven't forgotten is my promise to be better about checking up on things like that before I go off and do something silly on my own. I did remember to check it this morning, and I've been writing myself notes all day to help with my memory because of it. The last thing I'd want is to forget that I've something in the oven and let it burn by mistake, or to lose track of time in the stacks at the Library again and read the whole day away in there.

But that's not what I've forgotten, I don't think. Is it strange, to know you've forgotten something without being able to recall what that something is? It's much easier when one simply forgets one's forgotten it in the first place, because then it doesn't nag so horribly.

Something happened near Valentine's Day a few years back, and I know it must've been something precious because I traded it away for something precious in return. Sometimes I wish I hadn't, when it leads to feeling like this--knowing there ought to be something there, but never quite being able to piece out what it is...and worse, knowing it must've been something wonderful but surrendering it forever. If it is a curse out, then I think we'll get back whatever we've lost today when the clock finally strikes midnight. I'm afraid the same might not be true of whatever it is I lost then; I may never have that one back again.

But knowing we'll get them back doesn't make it any less frustrating that I just can't seem to...

...There was a boy and I think he...his favorite were chocolate-chip cookies and he once had me chop onions because he had to make me cry, and my horse climbed the stairs on the eve of Christmas and I didn't believe him when he woke me up about it, and he was fond of my mother and he had a car that didn't like me at first and he was once turned to stone and not even a kiss could change him back. And I think he...

...It's just, I don't know what to think, because I can't seem to remember who he is.


[OOC: For those playing along at home, she's forgotten her best friend, Sam Witwicky. Which she will, y'know, not be very pleased about when the curse eventually wears off. Someone fill her in, please?]

[Accidental Video Post]

[When the video first snaps on, it's accompanied by a brief glimpse of what appears to be white fur; for those more familiar with Rosella's living arrangements, they might recognize the culprit in question as Snowdrop, her cat, who is apparently feeling somewhat adventurous today.

Rosella, for her part, seems to have no idea what her cat is up to, or that she's currently on camera; at the moment, she's standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, gazing intently into it as though looking for something. Rather than being pulled back in her usual braids, her long blonde hair is down today, and she's standing with a lock of it caught in one hand, absently twisting it around her fingers as she looks at whatever it is that's keeping her enthralled at the moment.

Then, after a few tilts of her head and tugs of her hair, the answer becomes apparent:]

...Well, at least it washed out, just like the last time...

[She frowns, pausing a minute to regard herself in the mirror, and then resumes fussing--and shortly thereafter, the video switches itself off with a click.]


[OOC: So yes, Rosella was cursed yesterday but my schedule tied me up from posting about it, and to hear her talk, it was the most awful day ever--except that she really just spent it as a brunette. What can she say, she's a little vain and likes being blonde. If you want to say you spotted her out and about yesterday, feel free! She'll just be a little miffed if the hair color topic arises. :D]

[Video Post]

[The video opens on a fairly messy bedroom—all right, perhaps "fairly messy" is an understatement, considering the floor is littered with stacks of odds and ends, books and papers, clothes piled here and there, with barely more than a narrow strip of empty floor space leading from the side of the bed to the door. It is, however, a charming bedroom despite the mess: the bed is a four-poster with a canopy and dotted with fluffy, comfortable-looking pillows; there's a nightstand near the head of the bed, on which rests a small lamp, a tattered and clearly much-loved book of fairy tales, and a pink cell phone with charms attached; dangling over the open closet door hangs a piece of rope several feet in length, and beneath it are propped a bow and quiver of arrows, a sword, and a pair of Rollerblades; on the desk sits another stack of books, a pretty jewelry box, and a candelabra filled with pink tapers. On the wall hangs a stately portrait in a gold frame, and this is the image that the camera eventually settles on as a rather unusual narration begins.]

Good, that's good, get a shot of the portrait. We can use that a hundred times with a voice-over. Okay, great, pan the room, make sure to get all the junk...

Jesus, I pity the guy who spends the night in this place.

Hey, grab me the list a sec, do we have any names of ones who might've tried?

Uh...hang on, you want just the known acquaintances or...?

Eh, give me whatever you've got right there.

Okay, uh, I've got Witwicky, Black, Blue, Gray, Hargreaves, Perry, Anderson, Chase, Thorn, Maxwell, X, Pevensie, Pevensie again, Felix, Winchester, and Colbie. That's the one who lives here now, Nigel Colbie.

Some of those aren't here anymore, though. Who've we got that's still around?

Uh...Hargreaves, Perry, Anderson, Chase, X, both Pevensies, Felix, Winchester, and Colbie.

All right, we'll try to catch one of them. Christ, how does she live like this?

[Then, abruptly, the camera jerks, and a familiar voice rings out with a squawk of protest.]

What are you—get out of my room!

[And in the ensuing squabble, the video ends.]


[OOC: It's canon: Rosella's room is a beautiful disaster. And her documentary creators probably planned to strip out that audio in the final production, but alas, the rough cut made it to the Network. Colored italics are her camera crew and narrator; standard font is Rosella. ♥!]

( What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry? )

~
[Accidental Video | Open Action]

[It's late afternoon, dwindling into early evening, that finds Rosella in the Turnabout Cafe, seated at a table near a window and carefully sipping at a hot drink. Oddly, there's a bit of dirt and mud on the skirt of her otherwise neat dress--not near the hems, where one might expect it from some casual walking, but further up and streaked around where her knees would fall, as though she'd been kneeling on it somewhere outdoors. To anyone who knows her merely in passing, she seems normal and content as she drinks her beverage; for the people who know her well, it's a bit more obvious that something has rattled her. It's something about the eyes, the shoulders--she's decidedly more fidgety than usual as she talks to herself, the words almost too low to hear.]

...who lived upon a barge; in fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large...

[She sips her drink, and looks out the window, and drums her fingers on the table as her lips keep moving, absently, repeating the lines of some rhyme or another she's nearly forgotten and trying valiantly to recall.]


[OOC: Please assume this is backdated a few hours! And so the Iconomancy plot marches on. The first part is a solo log and merely there for reference; the second part is open action for anyone who wants it, and Network for everyone else.]

( Private || Hackable by Friends )

[Failed Filter | Accidentally Viewable to Public]

PARTY
--Location

o) Gardens?
o) Palace?
o) Warehouse?

--Guest list
--Invitations

o) Out by Monday at latest

--Food

o) Dinner? No, that's too much for one little party
o) Snacks
o) θάνατος
o) Desserts?
o) Cake

--Music
--Decorations

o) "Crystal Ball"?
o) Find out about chocolate fountains
o) Fresh flowenslsossffffssssmmsss,usfsfosfff

[OOC: Hello, bad omens! The abrupt ending to this post (and failed filter) is because Rosella's poor skittish cat just jumped on her, which made her stylus drag across her device's screen--which the device promptly translated into a jumble of letters. And due to the fact that she'll be nursing a scratched hand for the next few moments, she won't realize right off that her filter failed--or that she unconsciously added "death" in Arabic and Greek to her lists.]

[Voice Post]

--oses, what in the world? Oh--

[A throat clears, a little hesitantly.]

I...suppose this may seem a rather odd question, but did anyone else have something, er, go missing in the past few days, while the visitors were here? Yesterday morning I woke up and found that all my red roses were gone, from the ones on bushes in my pots to the miniature ones in my window box--and now here they are, and I can't for the life of me puzzle out how they might've gotten all the way out here! I'm certain they're mine, I recognize a few of them, but why would someone take a whole great bunch of roses and move them out somewhere like this? Really, it's the strangest thing! And honestly, what an awful damper that would be on an otherwise pleasant day, to go around taking people's things like that while they're occupied with visiting their friends. Why would anyone ever?

[A small huff of exasperation, followed by a brief pause.]

Which, er, brings me back to my question: has anyone lost...let me see, it looks like...a writing set, or a very fluffy white rabbit, or a stopped clock, a book of poetry, or a teapot and china to match? If you have, it seems they're all out here by a table in the Square. You can't miss it, really--it's surrounded in roses and all set for tea, of all things.

[A pause, a whisper of wind--]

Oh, what's this?

[--and then, a faint rustling sound.]

...A letter? Addressed to--

[And with a click, the audio ends.]


[OOC: Just a little Fourth Wall aftermath~ Please assume this is backdated to early this morning, a little after six or so--and thanks for playing, everyone!]

[Accidental Video Post]

[The video clicks on with a shake and a rattle, displaying a wobbling view of stacked books on a table and full shelves in the background; given the way the stack of books seems slightly off-kilter, it appears that something has recently jostled the table--which would also explain how the device, abandoned nearby, switched on itself.

For a while, the video shows nothing but books, but eventually Rosella wanders into the scene, hair up in braids and her head tipped back as she surveys the higher shelves, clearly looking for something and absently talking to herself--as she is wont to do, when she is deep in thought--as her gaze flickers over the titles embossed in gold on the leather spines.]

Sigils, runes, symbols...um...hieroglyphs?

[She frowns, absently biting at a hangnail as she continues to think.]

Devices, emblems, logos, pictures...

[And she wanders out of the shot again, only to return a few minutes later with a new stack of books. Setting these down near the camera--which she still hasn't noticed is recording, being so absorbed in her apparent search--she takes a seat and begins to page through the books, studying their contents intently. Eventually, she comes to the book second from the bottom, and pauses in her skimming to frown at the pages.

But no, it's not the pages she's frowning at, after all; she reaches down and plucks a torn bit of yellowed paper from where it has been tucked--perhaps as a bookmark?--into the crease between the pages, holding it up to look it over. Observers with a keen eye may be able to catch a glimpse of this bit of writing before Rosella turns it over to examine it herself; it quickly becomes clear that, while this may not be what she's been looking for, it's something she finds intriguing nonetheless.]

My, that's odd...

[But then she looks up as a new voice rings out across the room, calling something that sounds suspiciously like "Miss, would you like to hear about my fungal infection", and Rosella quickly slams the books shut, which in turn jostles the table--

--and the feed ends.]


[OOC: Research, research! Rosella's in the Library investigating symbols (having seen one elsewhere), and is fair game for assailing with your Stranger Danger tales! Also, any magically-inclined viewers, especially ones with a specialty in runes and icons, are welcome to notice that the drawing on the bit of parchment is magical in nature, though I'd prefer if they weren't able to figure out what it is or does (though speculation is certainly welcome!).

TL;DR: Action if you're in the Library, Network for everyone else. ♥]

[Accidental Video Post]

[The device opens on a shot of the interior of the Library, with Rosella sitting at a table reading a book in the foreground and a glimpse of tall shelves loaded with books in the background. Her blonde hair is pinned back off her face, as it usually is when she is at work, and there is a stack of books on either side of her on the table itself. On her left--the camera's right--the stack is quite tall, perhaps seven or eight neatly stacked books; on her right, the pile is only one or two books tall.

The one currently in her hands is old and bound in brown leather; the cover is so worn that the title is nearly illegible. But she appears to be thoroughly engrossed in her reading, and as yet hasn't even noticed that her camera has switched on.

She reaches to turn the page, and her finger slides along the edge--]

Ouch!

[--and instantly the scene seems to go into slow motion: the edge of the page slowly, agonizingly slides through the pad of her finger; her blue eyes widen faintly at the abrupt sting; her hand moves instinctively toward her mouth as a small droplet of blood squeezes out from the sudden wound--and the soundtrack kicks in.]

♪ MMMM, WHATCHA SAAAAAAAY?
MMM, THAT YOU ONLY MEANT WELL?
WELL, OF COURSE YOU-- ♫
[As she sucks on her cut finger, a look of exasperation crosses Rosella's face, and her eyes narrow slightly as she slides it from her lips and hisses in a severe whisper: ]

Oh, honestly. We're in the Library!

[And, as if properly abashed, the volume of the background music suddenly dials down to a more appropriate tone.]

♪ --DID,
MMMM, WHATCHA SAAAAAAAY?
MMM, THAT IT'S ALL FOR THE BEST? ♫
[Rolling her eyes, Rosella sticks her finger back into her mouth and returns to her book, and the soundtrack continues until the video slowly fades out to black.]


[OOC: Papercuts: they're serious business. And dramatic enough for today's curse, apparently! So naturally I couldn't resist. Action for anyone in the Library, Network for everyone else. Just remember to keep your voice down! :D]