speeding

Dear Fishbowl,

Sending the elevator to some weird abandoned city Island and stranding me there was, frankly, not cool.

That's two hours of my life I'll never get back. And that place was creepy.

Regards,

Your Evil Overlord

((OOC: Dash doesn't know about Want, Throne and Ran yet.))

B+? I really, really hope that was your evil twin that tried to kill me. Cause otherwise I have no clue what I did to piss you off. I am so lucky I'm fast or I would be dead meat. What the hell is with strong little girls?!

Um. In other news. Scythe wielding maniacs are now part of the sphere? This is just getting out of hand, people.

I'd go hide under the coach... But. Um.

Sky?

I blew up the coach. No, I didn't touch your stuff. I don't know how I did it. It was sort of totally awesome though.

[A short time later]

It would be pretty wicked if I had an evil twin actually, come to think of it. I mean, other then Want.

[Still written in a sloppy lefty scrawl]

Dear 'Sphere,

Yes, it's me again, your Evil Overlord. I have a lot of things I want to bring up in issue with you, but for the sake of our relationship I'll just bring up this one point.

When Want make a cardboard unicorn? That was not an invitation to give me one. It's creepy. Make it go away.

Best regards and loves and kisses,

E. O.

T, Want why are you not here to laugh at me? You stupid jerks.

So I hear the storm is letting up? This mean we get escape the land of shoes?

I guess on a more important note? I checked around like, all night, but didn't find anyone answering to "Fullmetal."

So... Search party? You guys have any luck? You guys okay?

Oh and, Want, Drake, Ran, thanks.

This is your evil overlord, signing out.

Okay. So.

• Magical journal? Check.
• Shower has been had? Check.
• Actually not-goopy clothing that still doesn't really fit? Check.
• Waking up in the most insane excuse for a social study without any memories or, you know, clothes, and being told the low-down by some poor girl who looked like she was going to faint? Double check.
• Getting practically manhandled around to god knows where without anyone telling me what the hell this is about and ending up writing this next to an endless rack of lady's high heels? GO TIME.

But seriously, magical journal, what the heck is going on?

Uh, and if these things work the way I'm told they are supposed to-- Hello there my fellow lab rats. I guess welcome me to the maze? And, you know, direct me to the cheese and not the sparks.

The name's Dash, by the way. As in dashingly handsome, or dashing to the rescue. You know, I’m good with either.

god I feel like a dork talking to a journal.