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shibrogane generated a random number between
1 and 13 ...
5!
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 12:29 pm
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Melancholies Re: The listservto: o.beau.0220@riderwaite.edu from: ḛ̛̰͈͔͖̫̟.͏̜͍̀ͅf̻̬i̖̼̦̤̯͟͟t͕̝̭̤͎̙̜̩́͘ͅz͎͈̤͖̦̩͕.͓͙̩͉͘͡ͅ0̧̥̣̰͕̬̳̀1̧̱͕̬͙̳̤͍͍̞͞9̙͢͠1͘͏͈͚̖̺@͇͝͝r̵̝͍̪͚͝i̟̺̹d̴̛͎̺̲̟̻e̝͕̱̺̫ŕ̼̹̳͖̰͇̩̼̕ẉ̧͙͙͞ͅa͎̩̱̼͉͇i̛̼̘̮̲͍̹͜t̴̪̱̼̮̻̻̞͘͠e̴̗̙̫͔ͅ.̱͓̬̲̬͔̣̰̀͟͞e̱̼̞̜̪̫̟͘d͢҉̳͚͜ṵ̵̡̞̣̮̰͙I got your email address off the class listing. Hope that's alright. Could we meet up? I have some questions about your assignment for the class I subbed in. -E. Fitzpatrick
Quote: 1. Leila 2. Lily 3. America 4. Horace 5. Oliver 6. Wilbur 7. Alexis 8. Temperance 9. Jamie 10. Rabbit 11. Preacher 12. Jeremiah 13. Algie
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 12:43 pm
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shibrogane Re: The listservto: ḛ̛̰͈͔͖̫̟.͏̜͍̀ͅf̻̬i̖̼̦̤̯͟͟t͕̝̭̤͎̙̜̩́͘ͅz͎͈̤͖̦̩͕.͓͙̩͉͘͡ͅ0̧̥̣̰͕̬̳̀1̧̱͕̬͙̳̤͍͍̞͞9̙͢͠1͘͏͈͚̖̺@͇͝͝r̵̝͍̪͚͝i̟̺̹d̴̛͎̺̲̟̻e̝͕̱̺̫ŕ̼̹̳͖̰͇̩̼̕ẉ̧͙͙͞ͅa͎̩̱̼͉͇i̛̼̘̮̲͍̹͜t̴̪̱̼̮̻̻̞͘͠e̴̗̙̫͔ͅ.̱͓̬̲̬͔̣̰̀͟͞e̱̼̞̜̪̫̟͘d͢҉̳͚͜ṵ̵̡̞̣̮̰͙ from: o.beau.0220@riderwaite.edu
Is this Ezra? The text in your email listing is rather hard to parse. Regardless, I'm actually on campus right now working through a composition piece. I take it you know where the practice rooms are? I could take a small break, but we should reconvene at another time if you really want to sit down and discuss something. Sorry if this sounds dismissive, but I'm terribly busy. I'm sure you understand, lol. If it's short though then by all means. -Oliver B.
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 1:03 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 1:26 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 1:31 pm
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Oliver meanwhile was content not to notice, his hands gently glazing over the keys laid out in front of him with considerable expertise. This was a product of daily practice, hard work, long years of determination... but he wasn't perfect, no, and his fingers eventually slipped over one another, the sound ringing out in a slightly off-key dissonance. He sighed, reached for his sheet music, started to scribble something down in the margins...
...he hadn't heard Ezra come in, but he had been expecting him, and the back of his head burned with the sensation of being watched. An anxious turn later, and Oliver had slowly peered over his shoulder to see the offending party.
"Oh." He relaxed considerably, "I don't know why I thought it might be someone else. I'm uh," He glanced at the piano in front of him, "It's funny. I don't mind playing on stage, but anywhere else I get a little anxious." He neatly tucked the papers up and laid them on the bench next to him. A moment later he turned around, still seated.
"What can I help you with?"
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 1:42 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 3:00 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 6:36 pm
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Ezra's eyes were an unnatural yellow, a red ring around the edges of his iris. Like fire. That crackling energy was felt even there, too. "Don't touch the piano in your mood," he said, a curious non-sequitur. "You'll break it.
"You say that, but your thumbprint is on the Charter that created the Spinel Lady. The Court. You gave your power to empower the woman who, yes, tortured your brother. Beat him until his ribs broke. Until he forgot everything but how to try to make her love him." Ezra didn't laugh, but his lips curled like he wanted to, like a death's head smile. They curled like parchment burned. "So retract your permission. You say you never gave it; make it that way in reality."
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 6:46 pm
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"I would never do that!" His fist balled up and—for a moment—it looked like he was about to slam it down on the piano. Thankfully he didn't. Still, his conviction was burning like liquid metal in his veins. It hurt. Something about Ezra's eyes was making him sweat, like the temperature in the room was rising. "I would never."
And he wouldn't... would he?
"And— And where was he when this supposed ******** Charter got—got whatever." Oliver was beside himself, "Of course I'd retract my permission or whatever the ********. I never gave it, I—"
He sucked in a deep breath. It didn't taste or smell like a campfire, not in the traditional sense. It felt like someone shoved a handful of ash into his lungs.
"Why are you doing this." He asked finally, "Why are you bringing all of this s**t up. Did you always know?" His eyes narrowed, "Oh, get all buddy buddy with the idiot who looks like my brother, plan out some spiel to try and make him panic later, tell him he nearly had his brother killed for something he didn't do. I didn't do anything."
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Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 7:04 pm
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The panic... washed away from his face in an instant. It was still there, still very real underneath the surface of his now numb expression, but something new began to filter in instead. Something hot, angry, indignant. "You're blaming me for things I didn't do." He said all at once, the revelation worn with something terrible and sad and frank. "You're treating me like some sort of a ******** criminal over crimes I didn't do. I'm not—" Now he looked beside himself in a totally different way.
"So what, are you going to hunt down everyone else on that list like—like some sort of self imposed vigilante?" The venom in his voice was thick and viscous like molasses. His hand was clutched to his chest protectively, cradled, pristine, "I'm not letting you touch my ******** hand." The panic was seeping back, "No one touches my ******** hands." They were probably the most important things he had. His eyes were already scanning the room for any sort of escape route out. The metaphorical ash in his lungs made his stomach turn and twist. "I'll revoke my permission if it's something I can magically ******** do despite never giving it, but you're not touching my hands."
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