simplestgift: (Touched.)
If anyone who has not already volunteered to take part in the comic sketches at the festival would like to do so, please let me know. You do not have to be a student.

To my students, remember, you will be graded based on participation and performance. If you have any questions or need additional help, please let me know.

-Mr. Kennedy

[Filtered to immediate family and their spouses 78%]

I was thinking of cooking something special tomorrow night, if you'd all like to join Jilly and me at our flat. Life has been madness trying to prepare for the festival. It would be refreshing to see everyone. If cooking turns into a complete disaster, we can all meet at Seventh Heaven instead.

That includes you, Kirsi, even if you don't eat.  We should very much like to see you.

[/Filter]

[Filtered to Aerith 78%]


Would you like to meet me for coffee tonight?

[/Filter]

[He'll get out of school earlyish today and be around town in various shops, the library, and pretty much anywhere else within reason.]
simplestgift: (wet and breathless)
[Written in a shaky hand]

I don't know if anyone is really out there. I seem to be caught up in a tree. In my defence, the tree looks worse than I do. I think I am winning. However, it is very cold and windy up here, and I can't seem to make it down on my own. I've heard about safe falling, but the only guideline we have about falling in the navy is "don't do it." If anyone can see this, then, I need your help. In the meantime, I'll keep writing, if you don't mind. It's just about the only way to keep moving up here.

I am Lieutenant Kennedy aboard His Majesty's Ship the Renown. If you'll believe it, that used to mean something. You may call me Kennedy (with or without the "mister"), or, since I suppose it makes no difference here, just Archie. I've answered to both. While I am sure you are dying to hear the endlessly dull story of my life and death, my literary skills are limited by my half-frozen fingers and my ability to manipulate this infernal book. Maybe later.

I can only hope this place has a decent glass of whiskey somewhere. I have a headache. Probably a permanent one. Not to mention I'm aching in body parts I actually did not have before. I suppose I should be glad to be alive again. Maybe that will come later.

Damned wings. I've no idea what to do with mys

[Accidental video: a flying shot of, well, mostly a grey-and-white blur as the book falls from the tree. A man's fingertips, nearly blue with cold, pass just in front. There's a dismayed shout and the sound of tearing cloth as the journal thumps to the ground, lying open. Barely visible in one corner is a very cold new feather, barely hanging on to a tree branch far above the ground. His pants seem to be caught and tearing. For a moment, he freezes with his arms around the branch, breathing heavily. Seconds later, he chuckles as if he just got a joke. He can barely be heard when he speaks.]

Looks like I d-didn't escape a hanging after all, H-Horatio.

[After a few more wheezing, half-hysterical chuckles, he goes very quiet.

The rest of the shot is of a location just outside the west side of town, north of the river.]
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