Saturday, 10 December 2011

-August- Messes

I guess there's no sense in dancing around the issue any longer.

The House is a mess, and not the kind I'm used to spending five or six hours at a time. This kind of mess is Spencer's job, when the walls start turning from maroon to eggshell and I can't find my bedroom and the kitchen's back on the first floor and there are these noises that have been coming from the East Wing and...

I don't want to talk about it.

Doc's locked herself in the basement, the House is overrun by plants, Spencer's got a wicked black eye and he looks like he's been dragged through hell. The worst part is probably that he won't tell me what's going on, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out.

I'm scared.

This is bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. I don't think it's been like this since our first major blow out, and even then at least the boss' been able to pull everybody together. Now he spends so much time in the Wing and whatever he's doing, it's not helping (or I think it's not helping, because the rooms haven't stopped shifting and the staircases are uneven and we've all but lost access to the third floor) and the sickness is coming back. I'm pausing every few minutes writing this to puke up more of the black gunk and christ, did this stuff always taste this horrible? and Steele's on edge and Sam's muttering about her grandma and we're slipping, we're slipping and I don't know if we're going to...

This post's set to go up an hour from now in case we lose connection.

We need to get Alex and Dr. Rivers out of here. These are our problems to deal with and we've already gotten enough people tangled up in our business.

Please, stay away from the House and don't try and contact us. We'll come back online as soon as


  1. Fucking christ. It sounds like a warzone in there.

  2. You sound like you could use help.

  3. Ms. Logan your continued apologies grow tiresome. One might almost begin to think that they are insincere, given the rate with which they seem to multiply.

    Good luck to you and yours Mr. St. Claire, though I doubt this debacle will end pleasantly.


  4. I agree, Raven. She says sorry too much. I think she might just have a bot that goes around apologizing under her name while she's off doing whatever.