Edgar Roni Figaro

Hey, just letting you all know that if you've got concrit for me, I've got a full-time concrit post on my OOC journal: code_gal

I'd like to speak with those who were responsible for the clothes theft that happened earlier this week. Don't worry; you may remain anonymous if you so choose.

Also, am I to take it that everyone has been receiving these letters?

[His handwriting is somewhat rough, as this is very hard for him to just calmly write.]

Recently, there was a journal entry showing one Kefka Palazzo mourning the death of his "friend", Terra, and blaming myself for the murder. Do not be deceived; he is the murderer. I returned from being kidnapped by the Malnosso just then; even if I had motive (which I did not), I simply would not have been able to ki

[The writing ends abruptly there, in a blot of ink, as he can't even bring himself to finish that sentence calmly. A few lines later, it continues.]

He is a known liar and killer, and cannot be trusted.

[Filtered to the Returners.]

[This would be text if he had anything to write with, but he arrived back outside the settlement without any possessions - much in the way he first arrived. Instead, he simply does his best to mask the soreness in his voice, but without much success.]

I'm back. Just north of the settlement, I think. I should be home soon.

[End filter, Action.]

[And indeed, Edgar is just north of the settlement, wearing his usual outfit, clutching his journal in one hand. He looks worn and haggard, as though he's been through quite a bit in the last week. His hair is completely unkempt and untied, making it something of a mess. He's struggling down the road towards house #44, trying to get home.]

[It's late, which means Edgar's working away in his workshop. The first thing that is heard on the journal is the door opening, and then Edgar's voice:]

Hm? Who's the-

[What happens next is a fair dose of chaos, as there's the sound of quite a bit of movement - a chair being slid suddenly, papers being shoved aside, and then a click as a weapon is cocked. Those familiar with Edgar's arsenal probably know what to expect next: a series of repetitive thuds (and some clangs) as the bolts from Edgar's Autocrossbow shoot across the room. However, he doesn't manage to reload the weapon in time, and the next sound is the King of Figaro hitting the floor and being dragged out.

Anyone in the house that feels like exploring will find several Autocrossbow bolts embedded in the wall near the door. A little bit of searching will reveal that the plans that he's been working on lately were shoved off the table, and went unnoticed by his captors. The rest of the room, however, is simply a mess.]

((OOC: Hiatusing for a week because of school. ^^; ))

[It should be fairly obvious to anyone that hears this that Edgar has other things on his mind. He speaks briefly to the journal.]

I need to contact a man named Sigmund.

[The first thing that's heard from Celes' room is a thud. Of course, that's to be expected when suddenly someone who is asleep switches bodies with someone's who's standing up and in the middle of getting dressed. The impact, though, is enough to snap Edgar awake, leaving him... rather confused. He recognizes this place; this is Celes' room. But how did he get here? And what is he wearing? And wha-

...

...

... awkward. Someone's just caught sight of himself in the mirror. From there he goes over to the journal, and is a bit startled as he begins his voice post, as he's not accustomed to Celes' voice coming from his mouth, even if it's technically her mouth, too. He does at least have the decency to make sure the icon is well covered, though he's too startled for the moment to finish getting dressed.]

Wh-what's going on here?

[So, Edgar's finally made it into town. He's looking a littlelot worse for wear, having just made a day-long trek without any supplies. Additionally, since he's just made it into town, he's still in the outfit he arrived in - that is, white cotton pants, no shirt, no shoes. His journal is clutched in his hand.]

Finally... a town...

[His voice is hoarse when he speaks; dehydration tends to do that. Finally, he decides he needs a rest, as he stumbles off to the shaded side of a nearby building, and sits with his back against the wall. Then he winces as he remembers the wings, and leans forward again.]

This journal is now entering luceti. Anyone who has this on their friends list for any other game, please remove it.

Thank you!