Open RP - The Unpopcorning of Dwight Schrute

[beets-r-god.livejournal.com]

Dwight Schrute came awake with a start. He was naked except for a film of butter and salt on his skin, and he was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded on all sides by kernels of popcorn encased in glass cases.

Dwight was a man of decisive action, and so he wasted no time in assessing the situation. He sprang to his feet, looking around wildly as if hoping he could catch whoever had done this to him.

Turning to address an unseen camera, he muttered intensely, "This is not funny. There are pranks and then there are pranks, and this time someone has gone too far. When I find Jim--because, oh, yes, this is *exactly* the sort of thing Jim would do--there will be hell to pay."

With that, he strode purposefully out of the room. Once outside, he noted the list of names on the door, and found his own, slowly fading from sight even as he watched it. A second glance revealed Jim's name was also on the plaque, but that didn't mean anything. It merely meant maybe Jim was being particularly elaborate. It would be just like Jim to redecorate the offices of Dunder-Mifflin so they looked like the interior of a castle. Dwight was, for the moment, ignoring the fact that the pictures on the walls were in constant motion.

He set off down the hall at a brisk pace. The stone floors were cold on his bare feet, but he didn't appear to notice. He was going to get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he did and then... Then someone would know his wrath.

((Open RP. Feel free to interrupt Dwight, or, you know, just point and laugh.))

owl to Maia (warded)

[fiercefluffy.livejournal.com]

Octavian and Maia were not avoiding one another. They simply weren't seeking one another out. Octavian didn't know Maia's reasons and preferred not to hazard a guess. (Waiting for flowers and gifts? Wishing she could obliterate a moment of undemonlike weakness? Something between those two extremes?) For Octavian's part, he did not relish the prospect of figuring out whatever had happened between them. He would have gone on as usual and pretended nothing happened, except that he knew Maia would probably kill him for that. There was also a threat on record from Melanie Beeby, to the tune of 'you hurt her and I'll kill you', but from a literal angel that threat didn't quite have the same resonance.

The threat from Melanie had been occasioned in a conversation which did warrant action from Octavian, however. He'd found out something promising, and he'd made a promise, too. If you can induce Brice to talk to her, I might be able to suggest she talk to him.

He was sure Melanie was making good on her end of the deal, or would when Brice reappeared from wherever he was. (Hypothetical friend, ha.) Now he needed to do something about his end of it.

Easiest and cleanest way to accomplish this: an owl. Also less likely to devolve into awkwardness or other things.

Maia:

Hell hath frozen over. I talked to Melanie Beeby. I'll have you know I only did so for your sake, so I expect accolades and possibly biscuits.

An idea has eventuated. If I were to make a suggestion, how likely would you be to entertain it on its proper merits?

- Octavian

Understandable ::Closed RP Lezard/Mystina::

[sacred-javelin.livejournal.com]

Ravenclaw, Mystina rather liked the sound of that. The ravens Húgin (Thought) and Munin (Memory) were Odin's servants (as far as she could remember, though she doubted the Odin she was used to indulged in either of their insight for quite some time)and being in so named a house rather flattered her intellect.

Not that she needed the flattering, of course, but it was rather lovely to know she was as smart as she thought.

That the Ravenclaw house also sported a lovely bar was just another perk in the long list of pros for being brought to this strange place, and she was currently seated there, indulging in what had been introduced as a 'martini' and enjoying the Hel out of it. She'd explore later, of course, but for now was people watching and practically oozing a sense of well-deserved smug confidence.