Hypnopics Collective

After the first performance ran off of the stage, another woman would step up to the middle of the podium. She'd clear her throat and looked at her notes, clearly more comfortable with public speaking.

"Three ninjas have run out of chips to bet, so they asked the dealer if they can make different type of deal."

The woman gulped.

"A tea bet."

Cough. Blink.

"Tibet. Tea bet. You know, where we're allegedly from?"

In a scramble, much like the first, she ducked off of the stage for the next person to take the stage.

A message sent to Astrid is delivered to her. Though it isn't exactly clear how, it's not like Yvonne had an adress or well.... not one the mailman delivers to anyway. Maybe she hand delivered it?

"My master, my mistress, my lady. Thank you for showing me the way.
It is something that I will hope to one day repay.
I hope you will teach me so much more.
To you it is that my oath I swore.
I would ask, may I spend with you this valantine's day?"

Left in Vee's appartment was a heart shaped box next to a vase containing a red rose, a white rose, and a black rose. On top of the box was a note.

At the unlikelest time,
I found someone who I'd like to be mine.
When I saw you I saw the prettiest dove,
and I knew you are my one true love.
My dearest Vee, will you be my valentine?

- Your lion, Leander.


In the box Vee would find an assortment of high-end chocolate.

A deep “Bouff!” sounded behind Jennifer on a daily patrol. A rumbling sounded through the earth a moment later, as a vast hound bounded up to her.



It sniffed intently at the paladin’s armor for seconds, broad wet nose poking under the plates. Ultimately satisfied, it tilted its chin upwards in a proud and noble gesture, somewhat marred by the excited wagging of its tail. Hanging from its collar, beneath the tag reading “Gilbert”, was a red leather cylinder: waterproof, sturdy storage for paper in an old fashion. And inside was a note, barely taking up a quarter of the space.

Seven, eight years ago, big storm in the cafe in that little Scottish village? Black hair, scruffy beard, awful smug grin?

Gave me a lot to think about back then. Like to think I’ve learned from it. Maybe not enough, but a demon can hope. Wanted to thank you for that, setting me on a different path. Not a great time, but I’m not holding out for a better one.

If not, no hard feelings. Trust is hard to come by these days. Otherwise… pick a spot—food, drinks, art, whatever. I’ll buy. No tricks, no seduction.

-Eric

Rolled into the card was a bright red flower—but not the sumptuous rose one might’ve expected. A pressed poppy, the petals thin and fragile in the open air. Gilbert sat patiently, waiting for a response.