Flins IC Inbox

[lanternae]

flins

The number you have reached is not available.

Please record your message after the tone.

VOICE | TEXT | VIDEO | ACTION

NSFW

Comments

actiion; early november

[twofoldfury]

[Never one to go back on his word, Diarmuid did find the time to pay the lighthouse a visit. It was around the latter half of a brisk afternoon, one he dressed for appropriately. The time where the sun started setting very early. Diarmuid was a punctual man but he did take one or two moments to just admire how the sun looked upon the horizon. The beauty in the small things was grounding in the haze he expected to spend months on end in...

Punctual still needed to be punctual though and he beelined to the lighthouse anyway. Knights had to be on time, it was law. Kind of like bartenders needing to know a variety of unrelated skills to bartending.

There was a knock against the bottom lighthouse entrance and a call to his friend. ... He could have made the jump up but it's okay it's just a Tuesday no need to super jump on this totally not heavy Tuesday afternoon.]

Sir Flins!

Later in dec, after the gifts are given

[myriadeclipse]

[ He intends to call him, but ... honestly he's still so flustered, Text is going first. ]

What do you mean by that?

Secret Santa Delivery!

[heng_like_a_dragon]

[So, this assignment has given Dan Heng the most interesting question.

What the fuck do you give a guy who sold a Faberge Egg to your cousin for $21 million? Especially a guy who doesn't even wash his rice!

His list of likes is also... nerd goth. Dan Heng shouldn't be surprised considering Flins is lovers with Blade's adoptive dad. Hm. He looks at his dragon Pokemon.

Well. That's one way to get bones without having to break the bank.

Celadon the Fraxure and Qinglong the Dragonair are very polite by allowing him to collect the bones from their meals, though that's unusual for Celadon since she can be quite feisty (11). However, Ren the Kommo-o has decided that Dan Heng is trying to challenge him and that maybe TODAY IS THE DAY that he will surpass this rival dragon (natural 1)!

It. Does not end with Ren's victory. The Kommo-o is now sulking after losing yet another battle against Dan Heng, and just... eats all the bones from his meal out of spite.

Welp.

So, Flins will receive a gift delivered by Sang the Skeledirge. Don't... ask how he got there. Dan Heng doesn't know, either. There's a simple note taped to the gift box that just says:]

His name is Sang (sahng).

[Inside the box are carefully preserved and cleaned fish bones and some kind of big mammal's bones. The mammal bones have some teeth marks in them, though. There are also some Kommo-o scales that glitter prettily in the light, and create a sound when scraped together or when struck by an object. Each one creates a different note.

Flins will also receive a lovely Chinese rice wine. There's a note from the sender as well.]

The scales are shed ones from a Kommo-o, a dragon Pokemon that rattles their scales together to create a clamor to unnerve their prey or anything threatening their territory. It's said that in ancient times, their scales were also used to craft very durable armor.

I'm not sure what your taste in alcohol is, necessarily, but I chose one that I like to enjoy with my family and fiances. There are many fond memories I have associated with its taste. I hope that this is to your taste as well.

-Dan Heng

Action: I promised you a brick, this one is giftwrapped

[wiseoldbartender]

[Husk has had a long fucking day. It's been miserable and terrifying and exhausting all in equal measure. He's been running on adrenaline and sheer bloody minded stubbornness for hours - ever since Alastor popped into his inbox. After checking the demon's story out, getting Shroud to verify it, warning his loved ones away and then spending time with the kids... Husk's about running on empty.

He flies to the lighthouse, as usual, welcoming the cold breeze in the air as he does so. It's sharp, even if he doesn't feel the cold, and he's glad for it. It's a reminder that he's alive and still fucking here. When he finally gets to the lighthouse, he doesn't enter right away - instead opting to sit on the top of it. He pulls his knees up to his chin, wraps his tail around his feet and folds his wings in close around himself, his ears pinned back on his head- for someone so damn tall, looking depressingly small.

Now he's finally letting himself stop, all the feelings he was trying to tamp down to survive the day are surging back. A hundred memories of what that fucker put him through clamouring for attention. Memories that, what? He just has to learn to live with now? That he has to figure out how to heal from with the fucker actively in the city? Worse, he's supposed to figure out how to exist as a completely free agent, without threat of those chains going around his throat again?

He really wants a drink. That's the prevailing feeling surging through everything. Flins has plenty of vodka inside. He could just open up a bottle or two or three and drink until he doesn't feel anything anymore. That's how he always dealt with Alastor in his past life. Just drink until the sweet siren song of oblivion took him under. He wants that so badly now. And maybe he should. If his reward for three months of sobriety was this, maybe he should just throw in the towel, call it a bad show. He realises, belatedly, that his hands are shaking.

He doesn't throw in the towel, though. Instead, he goes back to staring out at the sea, watching the movement of the tide, trying to time his breathing with the swell of the waves- trying to find some measure of peace from them.

Jesus, fuck, today has been a shitshow. ]

secret santa!

[thirteenth]

[In a package left on the doorstep of the lighthouse, square and wrapped with brown paper and natural twine, Flins will find an antique photo album. It is a deep blue velvet, faded in places due to the wear and tear of time, closed with a leather strap and embroidered on both front and back in grey and light-blue flowers. Inside are Victorian-era photographs that came with the album when Roxas found it, as well as eventual modern photographs he took and developed himself over the last 6 or 7 years through his teenage years, of ancient cultural sites from the countries he's visited on his sports career. Tucked into one of the pages is an old bronze coin from the Roman Empire.]

action, a little after the midmonth post

[myriadeclipse]

[ Part of him thought to fly over as a bat, but decided no. The walk would do him good, and he would have time to get his thoughts in order. The crisp, near frozen winter air was a nice wakeup call while he tried to reorder his thoughts.

The pier was his destination. Talking to seagulls was the name of the game today. Ever since his gift from Lycaon, he could understand animals... but he couldn't imagine the gulls having deep intellectual conversations. They lead rather simple lives and compared to the mess he considers his life currently, he does not fault that one bit. Live your trouble-free, fry-filled lives.

Still, he was cold. Less cold than he would normally be, but still slightly cold. He was fashionably bundled and his hair up in a clip that was designed to look like butterfly wings.

Why did he always go to this place in the freezing cold? Does he ever learn that wind off the sea is colder than hell? ]

The gulls will get a warm meal and I will set frozen sea air turning my bones into icicles.

Text: UN:bar_cat75

[wiseoldbartender]

Okay Baby, I'm gonna need you to do me a solid and start specifying with people that you are not fucking Casimir when you talk about him to them. I've already had one weird ass text from Zev today and if I have to explain to someone else that you are not, in fact, cheating on me with your actual pet cat I am gonna hide that bedazzled pine cone of yours and I will not give it back.

action, later next week once people have gone *missing*

[moonchanting]

[ Lauma has always been a little on the quieter side, so not hearing from her for a day or two? That's normal.

But it's an absolute silence. Not even a quiet "good morning" when she drops by during her walks around the harbour, and the animals... While they may talk of his cousins kindness, there's a lot less of that recently. Like she's not even around.

And then one morning, there's a visitor to the lighthouse. A small, chubby pink visitor who is running as hard as her little legs can towards the lighthouse. Lauma's Clefairy, Enija, has always been fairly level-headed and calm but today she is running and wailing at the top of her voice; ]

Mr. Flins! Mr. Flins!