sauntervaguelydownwards: (on a boat motherfucker)
Azir--

Never mind.

[He really shouldn't be clueing anyone in on where he is, especially not anyone from Down There. He wouldn't mind talking to the angel again, though.]

A more important matter: show of hands. Who's better-looking, Vergil or me? He won't listen to reason on this one.



[OOC: 4th Wall Day post!]
sauntervaguelydownwards: (no escape from reality)
[Video]
[It’s a new face, but a transmission that’s been made scores of times. This time the speaker is a dark-haired young man with great cheekbones, wearing sunglasses and a bewildered expression. He’s standing on the deck a healthy distance from the chapel, and when he speaks his voice is British, clipped, and dry.]

All right, when’s the next stop? I want to get off. Getting shanghaied onto Twilight Zone Cruise Lines is bad enough, but the maniacal holiday displays and the church are starting to make me nervous. I am not sitting through a Christmas sermon or anyone’s rendition of “Away in a Manger.”


Deck/Greenhouse spam )

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Anthony J. Crowley

June 2015

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