Owl to A

Jul. 10th, 2011 08:26 pm
[identity profile] woocha.livejournal.com
{Enclosed is a book about Robin Hood and a book about Rapunzel (Definitely a kid friendly version of it though)

A,

Here's the story of Robin Hood! Here's a story about Rapunzel too, cause she's here too! She says her hair glows when she sings and I bet it'd be pretty in your garden!

Wishbone
[identity profile] brain-inna-vat.livejournal.com
Glitch had absolutely no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. But that really wasn't anything unusual. It would come back to him in a minute. Or it wouldn't. Either way, there was nothing to do but walk around and take it all in.

"Oooh, look at that!" he exclaimed to no one in particular. Directly before him, floating in midair, was a scroll of parchment and a quill, poised to write. "How neat!"

He looked on, all rapt attention, as the quill began to scrawl something.

ExpandConferrin with the flowers and consultin with the rain... )

"I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. __Glitch formerly Ambrose___
I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. __Glitch formerly Ambrose____.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _Glitch formerly Ambrose___.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _Glitch formerly Ambrose___"
[identity profile] hernes-son.livejournal.com
Without warning, he returned.

Time held little meaning in the Great Forest. All Robin knew was that he had been here, to this place, this… Hogwarts… before. How long ago and what had happened to him here was unclear, his memory of those days hazy at best.

Now he found himself in a room full of… somethings. Deliciously scented, buttery white puffs. His stomach rumbled and he raised a hand to pat his midsection, finding his tunic unaccountably greasy. And not just his tunic. He looked down in surprise.

Robin cocked a brow. Was he, himself, covered in… butter?
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
The Sorting Hat kept up with the trends! It knew that the world was scheduled to end on May 21, and all the righteous would be uplifted to Heaven.

Since the Sorting Hat knew itself to be the wisest and most righteous being of all, it came to the most logical conclusion.

Upon waking from a nap on the afternoon of the 21st, and realizing it was still at Hogwarts, the Hat understood that it was already in Heaven.

Hogwarts was heaven.

"Halos and harps for everyone!" the Hat decreed.

And so it was. House elves brought everyone gilt halos and strap-on wings and hand-held harps, or autoharps, or the occasional harmonica (the house elves had taken to tasing one another for fun, and their mental acuity was not what it once was). The Great Hall (still home to the wax display of Hatsguard Heroes, mind you) was bedecked in white draperies, tinsel, and leftover battle fog from the Harkonnen Dining Experience machines (the Hat felt this would create a cloudlike effect). Angel food cake and ambrosia were the evening meal. Oh, and cans of Red Bull ((at player suggestion, because it GIVES YOU WINGS)).

Debbie Gibson's BELINDA CARLISLE's "Heaven Is a Place on Earth" was piped through WART, the insipid soundtrack of Hat Heaven. Alternating with the Elvenking cover of same ((thanks to Igor-mun)).
[identity profile] engravedonsouls.livejournal.com
Lenneth's eyes roamed the room she found herself in. Her wings were spread, pristine white and almost shining. She did not move a muscle for mere moments ago she had been with her sisters and allies, standing before Lezard in his twisted world. Her right hand is held till over the hilt of her blade, waiting for some sign of hostilities.

None came, and the Goddess allowed herself to relax. Her wings vanished, only a couple feathers falling the the ground around her. Normally used to show that a fallen warrior was chosen to fight for the gods, Lenneth cannot help but spare them a moments glance as she recalled times when that was all she was meant for.

ExpandAllow me to elucidate. )

[["I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Lenneth Valkyrie
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Lenneth Valkyrie.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Lenneth Valkyrie.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. Lenneth Valkyrie"]]

[identity profile] i-am-an-hero.livejournal.com
The encounter with Delirium in the Popcorn Room had disturbed A deeply. He hadn't realized quite how changed he was until suddenly his mind had been back then. Wishbone's welcome distraction had gotten him away from her, but he still felt the weight he'd spent the last few years pulling himself out from under.

He tried to focus. It wasn't planting time yet, but he'd drawn out plans for new beds in his garden, butterfly-attracting flowers around the gazebo, and the worked the dirt there now, preparing. It gave him something to think about that was now.

As long as he could keep from looking at his inevitably bleeding scraped knuckles...
[identity profile] endlessgoth.livejournal.com

There was a distant sound of wings rustling as the popcorn room began to shift. A pale, pretty young woman appeared, dressed in a black tank top, jeans and wearing a simple silver ankh around her neck. She looked down to see that she was completely covered in butter. Dragging a finger down a pale arm she shook her head with a slightly amused, if exasperated smile.

“Sweetie, I know you’re happy to see me, but haven’t we talked about these odd welcomes?” Her sister, Delirium always came up with strange ways to welcome her family when they visited. The last time it had rained fish, so she probably shouldn’t complain.

A small frown creased her forehead. This wasn’t her sister’s realm. A strange magic field pressed at her, dampening some of her power. Death tapped a finger against her chin, wondering where she had felt that before. It was familiar.. but distantly so.

((Death from the Endless guides everyone on to the next world after they die. Her omniscent nature is obviously going to be dampened. Feel free to have the dead remember or not remember her at will!))

[identity profile] iam-beowulf.livejournal.com
On the day of the Hufflepuff-hosted potluck, the Great Hall had been transformed to accommodate the event, courtesy of Skwisgaar, a few of his bandmates, and several other helpful volunteers from Hufflepuff -- and one Ravenclaw. Skwisgaar and Toki's adoptive dragon-son, Smaug, had assisted with arranging some of the heavier items.

(Beowulf hadn't been much help at all; he was busy worrying about missing Yule Goat gifts, and haranguing house-elves to bring him replacements so no one would go ungifted. Many copies of the Tarvunty would be given out, from the sound of it.)

The enchanted ceiling of the hall offered an unobstructed view of the evening sky: clouds painted in brilliant shades of coral and lavender, fading to pale gold toward the horizon.

Luxurious black satin tablecloths covered the rows of tables, and places were set with exquisite crystal goblets and sterling silver cutlery. Elegant candelabras were scattered across the tables, and a much greater multitude of candles had been enchanted to hang in the air like fireflies -- and not drip wax -- at such a height that only Smaug might be in peril of bumping into any. Deep crimson draperies adorned the tall windows, tied back with black cords.

Several enormous fountains featuring somewhat morbid sculptures had been placed around the hall, quietly flowing with red wine, and there was also an assortment of tall fir trees, festively decorated for the Yule holiday.

A, Skwisgaar, and Beowulf all had places of honour at the head of separate tables: the Hufflepuff prefects' chairs were draped with graceful lengths of black and gold velvet, and the Gryffindor prefect's with red and gold velvet, to set them apart from the rest.

One row of tables had been designated exclusively for food and drink, and they were differentiated by their crimson tablecloths. Per Skwisgaar's request, Berwald Oxenstierna had been hard at work all day preparing a proper Swedish smörgåsbord: there was gravlax, kroppkakor, Swedish meatballs (of course), pickled herring, a variety of tasty items for open faced sandwiches, ostkaka, waffles with a selection of toppings (jam, whipped cream, ice cream), chokladboll, and kladdkaka. A had been equally busy, preparing a roast lamb, brussels sprouts, panettone, and, also by Skwisgaar's request, homemade lingonberry jam. In addition, a small area was set up with stacks of fresh baked butter cookies, along with bowls of icing and various toppings to decorate them with, should any guests wish to.

The presence of Valentine Wolfe, who had arrived with Vladimir Harkonnen to deliver the booze ahead of time, assured that several of these items would undoubtedly be drugged, unbeknownst to any of the prefect hosts.

Outdoors, on the lawn, wood was piled high for Beowulf's festive bonfire. He had tried to transfigure it all into one gigantic Yule log, with little success; here and there, the lengths of lumber appeared to have melted into one another and recongealed into their proper consistency, but it was still just a pile of firewood for the most part. Overenthusiastic house elves had added bits of furniture to the firewood. A safe distance from the firepit, a sleigh sat mired in mud; it was filled with nothing but heaps of fur robes. When dinner was over, Beowulf would blow his golden horn and lead the revelers out to light the fire.

But first: food! and the exchanging of presents!


(( OOC note: Any item may be safe or may have been spiked by Valentine, at your wish. If spiked, the nature of the character's altered state is entirely up to the player. Since we already have a chocolate plot running thanks to the enchanted water, Valentine's spiked goodies may alter or nullify the effects that the enchanted water may have induced. as the player sees fit. Or it may leave those effects in place and simply add another simultaneous effect. The more, the merrier.

One more thing: If your characters become inclined toward NSFW action, please split it into a separate post rather than RPing the NSFWness in the party post. Ditto for anything triggery -- anything that you'd normally put a warning on. Putting it in a separate post as a closed RP means you can put the appropriate warning right on the label, with a nice LJ-cut for everyone's protection. ))
[identity profile] serrulata.livejournal.com
They'd raced through the dungeon, Kuronue taking the West end, Kurama the East, and by the time they met up again, every water pipe in the place was glowing a different color. Some were even alight with colors that didn't even exist, or sparkled and dripped in disconcerting ways.

"Excellent," Kurama grinned, shoving his wand back into its holster. "I wonder what'll happen once the sprinklers go on in the greenhouses."

There was a long pause of contemplation.

"I think you might wanna take a day or two off work," Kuronue said, catching a distant tinkle of glass as something in that general area broke. Or, broke free.

"D'you think we might not have planned this out too carefully?" Kurama asked.

Another long pause.

“Still, you know... No need to get tentacle raped or something.” Kuronue looked oddly pleased at the possibility of such happening however. Especially since he knew it was possible.

Well, it was Kurama.

((OOC - Kuro socking done with mun approval. Basic chocolate plot rules apply, all the water in the school is magicked, cursed, charmed, and so forth, all with different effects up to the mun. Have fun!))
[identity profile] stbrendan.livejournal.com
Years, perhaps too many, had passed since Brendan had fled the Northmen at Kells, following Brother Aiden. The Book had been at last completed, and Aiden departed to the next world, leaving the Book, and the faithful cat Pangur Bahn, in Brendan's care.

He knew it was time to return to Kells, the abbey, and the forest beyond. Perhaps only to overgrown ruins, but...

Well, the Book had taught him many things, hope principal among them. He packed up his meager belongings, the Book, and Pangur, then set off inland, away from the far south coasts and towards the first and only true home he had known.

He must have gotten turned around, deep in the moorlands. Mist everywhere, and when he turned, suddenly...

A room? Where was this place? Brendan surely knew a little about the magic of this land; he'd experienced it firsthand in his youth, but this surely wasn't Aisling's work. She'd never come indoors on her own.

But, unlike with Crom Chruah, this place didn't feel threatening. Pangur Bahn, on the other hand, had a rather different idea, her white fur sticking out in all directions as she clung with all claws to his shoulder.

"Hush, Pangur, we're in no danger here," he soothed, hoping he wasn't making a liar of himself. He stepped cautiously into the room. The desk and quill, for all that it was standing up, was familiar enough. A quill pen he could handle.

ExpandEven if the words were strange, the quill was comfortable in his hands. )

"I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ______Brendan______
I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____Brendan______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _____Brendan______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ______Brendan_______"
[identity profile] shiny-mech.livejournal.com
((Ok'ed with the other Firefly muns))

She landed hard enough on the ground to make her teeth rattle. “Ow! Ai yah tien ah,” she swore and jumped to her feet. What had happened to her girl? Serenity didn’t just lurch like that, not her ship. Kaylee knew every hum, click and whirr of her engines and she had been running smooth and happy just a minute ago.

 

“Cap’n?” she asked hesitantly, looking around. Kaylee knew that something was wrong right away because she couldn’t feel the comforting hum of the engines beneath her feet. The last thing she remembered was dozing off in the engine room after fixing the hydraulic intakes. How did she wind up in a castle? Where was everyone?

"'Nara? Where is everyone?"


[identity profile] eleventyrags.livejournal.com
The Doctor hadn't always loved Halloween, but on those worlds that celebrated it (or something like it) he definitely tried to join in the fun, if there was nothing overtly intent on re-enacting a favorite horror film but with real knives instead of rubber props. He supposed at Hogwarts there was no danger of this (and even if there was, the danger was minimized) and thus strolled confidently over the grounds, rambling until he came to a pile of rather gorgeous pumpkins. He stared at them a minute, then at the door they framed. A sign read:

Pumpkins, free to a good carver.

Candy within, Trick-or-Treaters welcome.

Any tricks resulting in broken glass will be met with a boot up someone's back end.


The last bit, he noted, was scrawled rather hastily in something that his mind wanted to read as Japanese, but his eyes were registering as English. The rest was in big, spiky, dramatic handwriting, with bats, cats, and pumpkins scribbled all over the place. It very nearly covered a plaque that read 'Professor Minaminaminamino." What a name. He grinned and ducked in.

ExpandHe realized what the sign meant about the boots when he saw the young girl sitting at one table. )

((OOC: I suck at making things short. Specify if you want River, Eleventy, or Kurama to play with, or be surprised <3 ))
[identity profile] chasteasaknife.livejournal.com
And where was this place? No sooner had her family been reconciled, than they'd faced Antonio's wrath, that Vindici had dared brave the deeds that had increased that fickle lord's holdings. It took little imagination to guess at what fate awaited them, and yet she was here, in a room too drab for the Duke's liking even in a dungeon. Some oubliette of Antonio's, perhaps, were it not overlarge.

"Who's there?" she called out, mustering her nerve. If she were a captive, surely she would be guarded, and a guard might be loose-tongued enough to ease her fears, or worsen them. She paced the length and width of the room, approaching the desk with a peculiar sense of trepidation.


ExpandAllow me to elucidate. )


"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. _____Castiza_______
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____Castiza______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ______Castiza_____.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ______Castiza_______"
[identity profile] herlivinglegacy.livejournal.com
Standing on the surface of the lake like the messiah Sephiroth knew was, single black wing motionless, Sephiroth pulled his useless PHS from his pocket and threw it down into the water. He watched it ripple and send waves outwards to brush against the soles of his boots with a mild sense of amusement. The thing had long since been useless, he wasn't sure why he'd been given it again once he'd gained his semi-physical body here. For all intents and purposes Sephiroth was now a ghost and yet he couldn't feel the link of the Lifestream here like he could on the worlds that were unlocked, linked to the world he'd sought refuge on after the Heartless had swept away his own world and taken his goals with it.  He was more than merely bitter that his victory, his revenge for Mother, had been stolen from him.

But no matter, he'd come to this world seeking something and it seemed to fulfil the desire somewhat. It might have just been the beginning of his time here, but already he could tell things would be...interesting. He turned with a swirl of black leather and long hair to make his way back to land once more, feathers skittering in the wind and falling to rest on the surface of the lake lightly, floating along the surface. He might have been a ghost, but he seemed to be physical here, no transparent image or intangible flesh here.

He'd never seen so much green earth before, not a sprawling city or industrial plant to be seen. Most of all, the sky was a clear blue, something that he thought he resented, just a little. Now, he thought, to continue his investigation of this world, since he refused to go to classes (not that they seemed to be held often) or be mistaken for a casual student of this place.
[identity profile] malikhuliya.livejournal.com
He reconstituted from a cloud of black dust. No sooner had a form shown signs of winged-humanity, that it was consumed by black and green spiritual pressure. It bent in on itself and with a final rush, dissipated, showing a man of average height and muscular frame walking towards the desk; a lone piece of parchment and quill it's only decoration. Ulquiorra Schiffer had died once, his second death at the hands of Ichigo Kurosaki. With his pale hands deep within the pockets of his white hakama, he pondered the possibilities behind this: his third artificial life.

State your full name.
He slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket and reach with black finger-nails, towards the quill. It jerked from his grasp. His hand froze in its prior action as his mind calculated the quill's purpose in moments. He grunted and slipped his hand back in his pocket. It responds by verbal command, he clarified to himself. 'Ulquiorra Schiffer, Fourth Espada.'

ExpandAllow me to elucidate ... )

"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. U. Schiffer.
I have read the
[info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. U. Schiffer.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. U. Schiffer.
One day, Lord Aizen will rule the world. U. Schiffer."
[identity profile] beastsouled.livejournal.com
The young woman who walked into the Sorting Room carried a bow and quiver of arrows on her back, but ignored those in favor of a knife with a large garnet set in the hilt. She looked to be about twenty, and very fit. Her curly brown hair was chopped close to her head where it wasn't pulled back into a tail, and her tanned skin was laced with pale scars where her clothing--well-worn leather--didn't cover it. She was barefoot. She crouched as she looked around warily with the knife in her hand, and her dark eyes missed nothing.

The wolf at her side was equally wary-looking. He came up to the woman's chest (no mean thing, for she was not a short woman) and had piercing blue eyes. He growled once, low in his throat. "I do not scent danger, but neither do I scent our destination."

The woman flicked her eyes in the wolf's direction and answered back. Her speech was more akin to an animal's, though, all growls and silence and body language. "Does it smell like Hawk Haven or Bright Bay? This stone room looks similar to their keeps."

"I cannot say. It smells alien, and though you might not wish to hear it, I can feel magic here, stronger than anything I've felt before." Blind Seer--the wolf's name--had been sensitive to such things following an illness months before.

Firekeeper--the woman--frowned. "Could we be in the Old World, then?"

"It is a possibility. I had thought the gateways to be more accurate than that, though."

Firekeeper grunted in displeasure and noticed the a sheet of parchment on a table nearby. She picked it up, wrinkled her nose, and returned it to the table. "I cannot read this. Is it a language you know?"

The wolf gave her a somewhat exasperated look, but placed his front paws on the table and looked down at the parchment, reading. "It appears similar to the writings of Hawk Haven, yes. I will tell you what I can. Perhaps we can learn more about where we have come."


ExpandThe world is so very large, and in these years we have seen so little. We go to see more. )

"I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG.
I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. "

((Since it's heavily hinted that there's at least something of a telepathic component to Beast-speak, if your character is a telepath, feel free to be able to understand them when they're talking in italics. Also if your character is an animal with human-level intellect. Otherwise, it's translated mostly-nonverbal communication.))
[identity profile] boomerwangfire.livejournal.com
((Sokka is from just after the end of the TV show, and since I actually didn't remember we had one years and years ago will not remember his previous time at Hogwarts.))

There was a pop, and an embarrassing and slightly painful sprawl of limbs, and Sokka of the Southern Water tribe found himself in a greasy puddle on the floor. "Eeeugh," he said, untangling his arms and legs from his sword and boomerang--"SWORD AND BOOMERANG! YOU CAME BACK!" He could have hugged them, if he hadn't been soaked in--what was this? It felt like Appa-drool, but it smelled better.

He shook off as much of it as he could and looked around. Stone floors, stone walls, and glass cases filled with... seeds? Giant seeds? What was this place? It didn't look like an Earth Kingdom building, which made no sense since when he had fallen asleep the night before, it had been in Ba Sing Se. He had hurt his leg during the invasion a few days before, not his head, so he was pretty sure that he could trust his memory on that.

He strapped his boomerang into its accustomed place,thankful that he was wearing his comfortable usual clothes, instead of the more lavish ones that had been gifted to him and the rest of his friends for their help in defending the Earth Kingdom from the Fire Lord. They were really awesome robes and everything, but if he was going to be lost in a strange place, at least he'd be lost in a strange place in something he was used to wearing. Even if it was covered in grease. His sword, he kept in his hand, unsheathed, the metal dark and different from usual steel. Super awesome space sword yeah! He was so glad to have it back. And his boomerang! Some people had security blankets, Sokka had his boomerang.

He poked his head out the door and looked both ways, and after a second's hesitation, up. Nobody threatening around that he could see. With a slight limp, he snuck down the hallway, hugging the walls.
[identity profile] ukon-sakon.livejournal.com
Tachibana Sakon is a bunraku puppeteer. Ukon is a bunraku puppet made in the 1870 (the series is set in the late 1990s). As Sakon is shy enough to be practically mute without Ukon and Ukon is a puppet, they are together. Sakon is also a master ventriloquist. His mouth doesn't move when Ukon talks and their voices are different. He can also mimic voices he's heard, though he tends not to very often as he feels that mimicing voices is something similar to channeling. Ukon can be touched, but permission would be needed, either IC or OOC to actually remove him from Sakon's control. For Sakon's sanity, though, Ukon shall have to be indestructible as his version of the 'no kill' spell (or, in other words...I'm fine with curious poking, asking to take the puppet, but no taking apart the puppet).

One of the joys of being a performer was being able to travel. Sakon enjoyed being a street performer, enjoyed the more formal stage performing, even enjoyed the practice for performing. He loved puppetry, loved learning more of it, exploring more. He was going to a museum in Hokkaido, a long way from his home, to learn more about the art of puppet making and repair. While his family did have ties to a school of puppet makers, it was still a good idea for him to know as much as he could about as many different techniques as he could. And, he enjoyed the opportunity to travel. The journey also coincided with the autumn festivals, giving him a chance to perform as well.

He was dressed for travel, as well—a long, brown trench coat with and elbow length cape over the shoulders to keep out the cold, his sneakers on his feet, comfortable for walking and standing in, black pants, a black, long-sleeved shirt and the sleeve covers that kept his sleeves out of the way of his puppetry, and a gear-like collar. On his back, the green wooden case that held Ukon and in one hand, the suitcase that held clothes for him. He traveled light, his family only providing enough for the train fare up. It was up to him to earn the fare back and to cover a place to stay—a task he'd yet to fail in.

When he arrived at the gates of the castle, he thought it a little strange. He couldn't remember any building like the one before him in Japan, but he also knew that western style archetecture wasn't completely unheard of. The grounds looked different, too, but it was his first trip to Hokkaido, so he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. As the gates were open, he started to proceed, only to pause. He brought the case on his back forward and Ukon burst out of it.

"What is this, Sakon? This doesn't look like a museum!" the puppet declared, looking around, even over Sakon's shoulder.

"I'm not sure, Ukon. This is where the train and the map led us," the boy replied, his voice much gentler, quieter than his puppet's.

"Are you sure you read it right?" Ukon demanded.

Sakon chuckled, handing over the map. While Ukon examined the map, Sakon adjusted the case on his back and picked up his suitcase and started toward the castle again.

"Oi, Sakon, that lake is on the wrong side," Ukon said as they approached the doors to the castle.

Looking over at the map the puppet held, Sakon considered a moment then turned it around. "No, it's not," he said, raising his hand to knock on the door. It opened before him, though, before he made contact.

"This place gives me the creeps," Ukon complained.

"Hush, Ukon. We were invited," Sakon replied, though a shadow of doubt flickered over his features.

They remained in the door, though, a portrait of contrast. Sakon, with his dark clothing, dark hair, fair skin and violet eyes, still, only his eyes moving as he looked around the strange room. Ukon, a child's puppet, a masterpiece of work, with bright red hair, blue eyes and a yellow haori over a white kimono, a blue collar showing at his neck, a square sash around his neck with white medallions on it, looking around avidly, his neck craning, trying to take in everything.

"Well, I guess we're here," Ukon declared, his hands coming up behind his head. "Might as well see what this place is about, Sakon."

Sakon walked in, turning when the door closed behind him. "It seems we have little choice," he mumbled.

"What?" Ukon demanded, his eyes wide as he stared at the door.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," Sakon said, turning back to the room. As there was nowhere to remove his shoes, he left them on, walking over to a table in the center of the room. He picked up one of the pieces of paper on it, handing it over when Ukon demanded to see it.

ExpandWhat is the meaning of this? )

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