(司) tsukasa

WHO: Nicholas Dicholas Wolfwood, the seers of Kaisou, and you.
WHERE: Libra and Gemini
WHEN: end of the month-ish
WHAT: mirror mirror on the wall, what's gonna happen in the fall? PROPHECY POST!
WARNINGS: none that come to mind

video; un: nicholasdwolfwood

[ the camera is being puppeted by somebody else--given the glimpse of a mechanical finger, it's probably a long-suffering Vash who was asked to film before... Wolfwood? decided to...

... if you are familiar with Nicholas D. Wolfwood, weirdo living on the edge of town with other weirdos and his current pinnipedal status, it's probably not weird that there's a big gray-black lump of seal stuffing its head under the sand. if you are unfamiliar with Nicholas D. Wolfwood, somebody's taking a weird video of the gothest little blubberbeast in the harbor and uh. gently trying to cajole it. ]

Heyyy, Nico, c'mon! You said you had a smoke thing you needed to post about?

[ the Nico-seal snrfs. sand leaps from newly revealed nostril-holes. it's followed by the hottest glower a seal's ever given a camera. ]

Stickin' my head in the sand makes the ringing shut up for a couple of seconds, blondie, let me have this. Or shoot me. I'll take either option.

[ the camera goes into turbo mode as the idiot holding it needs to tell you that NO, NO, SHOOTING IS NOT AN OPTION WOLFWOOOOOOD and the seal rolls on his back, staring out at the ocean as if urging it to wash up higher, higher, and claim him for somewhere far and away. please. God. do him a solid for once, you cosmic asshole. ]

Will you shut your yap-hole for--needlenoggin! Stuff it! You're not helping! [ he's throwing a flipperful of sand and angrily rolling over, God's angriest powdered donut as he flops this way and that on the beach. ]

Apparently the magical predictive bullshit livin' rent free in my brain wasn't content with showing me a stupid bell, but I keep hearin' a friggin' bell too. It sounds like a bell. Good luck figuring out what that portents to--maybe the other assholes have something meatier.

Wishin' bells on all of you.

[ head goes back in the sand until the camera cuts off and the cameraman's voice hits a new decibel of catastrophically fretful. ]