InVeigle has started a new game with the following players:
InVeigle

" S T A R T G A M E : t r u e "{ " g a m e I d " : " 1 7 2 0 0 7 5 5 0 3 " , " p l a y e r L i s t " : [ " i n v e i g l e " ] , " r o l l N u m b e r " : 0 , " c u r r e n t P l a y e r " : 0 , " d i c e " : { " f a c e s " : [ 0 , 0 , 0 , 0 , 0 ] , " r e r o l l " : [ t r u e , t r u e , t r u e , t r u e , t r u e ] } , " s c o r e 0 " : { " 1 " : n u l l , " 2 " : n u l l , " 3 " : n u l l , " 4 " : n u l l , " 5 " : n u l l , " 6 " : n u l l , " p l a y e r " : n u l l , " u p _ t o t a l " : n u l l , " b o n u s " : n u l l , " 3 k " : n u l l , " 4 k " : n u l l , " s s " : n u l l , " l s " : n u l l , " f h " : n u l l , " y a h _ t o k e n " : n u l l , " y " : n u l l , " c " : n u l l , " y a h _ b o n u s " : 0 , " b o t _ t o t a l " : n u l l , " g _ t o t a l " : n u l l } , " o w n e r " : " i n v e i g l e " , " s t a t u s " : " r e a d y " , " r o u n d " : 0 , " l a s t P o s t " : 1 7 2 0 0 7 5 5 0 3 }

Main House
Well it was that, like, noise-canceling that filtered specifically for conversational register, so she could still make out what you were saying.

Because in spite of all of her curiosity, she knew that took a back seat to the fragile energy of creation. The way that momentum was ruled by chthonic, unknowable tides and there was no way to reliably know when, or if it'll strike again in a timely manner. By now they were all vaguely aware of how your release schedule was a bit hard to predict.

Mercifully, but tragically, Dylan Bode was far too busy with larger-feeling affairs for any imperative to bother you about it, not that he likely would?

What she couldn't hear was that faint bass as it leaked up through the floor, so she didn't know it stopped, and she was genuinely surprised to see you pop up even though she did text, announce about food as she passed you the little serving-tongs.

"Yeah it's this, uh…" Holly paused to poke a finger to her earbud to pause the music and allow ambient sound again.

"New fusion place downtown. Local internet food guy opened it up…" she let the conversation linger on the superficial, as she often did, as she fixed herself a plate of two overlapping rounds of meat, dairy and colorful veg, both fresh and pickled. The delivery fee all the way out here was almost as much as the food itself, not that either of them really cared.

"…that going on Blockhead, or the third album? I thought we were already wrapped, just trying to coordinate release and merch and a tour n' shit?"

looks arounf the bar some before drinking more

you, too, muggy!

Grabs her blanket, a couple of gummies, and wanders off in the general direction of her bed.

I like haggis. Honest!!

yaayy! grinning

drinks while scanning through my phone while still alone

The House
If any show deserves a comic book follow up... I want to see this one get revived.

Main House
Main House
Brix had been in the studio for what had seemed like an hour or two, but it was more like the entire day.

Sometimes, inspiration hit you in odd ways, and you'd have to come out and let that feeling wrap you up internally, grab ahold of it as it cinched it's enlightening grasp around your mind, and let it go.

The sound of music, a steady rumble underneath your feet as you walked around. No answer when you called down to him to let you know you were going to the beach. No answer when you announced your return, when you asked him what he wanted to eat.

He'd been grinding. Polishing that stone with repeated scoring. Backing beat carefully selected, Lyrics worked on, spat into the mic with a fervor he hadn't felt in months.

So when the music finally cut, and he was on his way up the stairs a few minutes after, the red light above the doorway the only indication of his completion of that Sisyphusean effort to re-create a hit.

The door opens, and he enters into the great room in bare feet. The mess made long cleaned up, but there were the errant glint of discarded glass if you were to take a flashlight underneath the couch. Nowhere a foot could step, but his compulsive cleaning need had taken a back seat recently, obscured by a dark cloud that sat around the edges of his aura like a framing of the new experiences of feminine energy that he couldn't explain.

Or maybe, he could explain. He was on his phone, tapping away as he found a stool and clicked the phone off shortly after, setting it face down on the Kitchen Island and tucking his feet up onto the middle rung of his seat.

"...Smells good..."

He says, looking through the fare for a dish of bulgogi he could add atop his kimchi taco like a meat-seasoning. Had he even noticed you were wearing your headphones?

Main House
Brix had been in the studio for what had seemed like an hour or two, but it was more like the entire day.

Sometimes, inspiration hit you in odd ways, and you'd have to come out and let that feeling wrap you up internally, grab ahold of it as it cinched it's enlightening grasp around your mind, and let it go.

The sound of music, a steady rumble underneath your feet as you walked around. No answer when you called down to him to let you know you were going to the beach. No answer when you announced your return, when you asked him what he wanted to eat.

He'd been grinding. Polishing that stone with repeated scoring. Backing beat carefully selected, Lyrics worked on, spat into the mic with a fervor he hadn't felt in months.

So when the music finally cut, and he was on his way up the stairs a few minutes after, the red light above the doorway the only indication of his completion of that Sisyphusean effort to re-create a hit.

The door opens, and he enters into the great room in bare feet. The mess made long cleaned up, but there were the errant glint of discarded glass if you were to take a flashlight underneath the couch. Nowhere a foot could step, but his compulsive cleaning need had taken a back seat recently, obscured by a dark cloud that sat around the edges of his aura like a framing of the new experiences of feminine energy that he couldn't explain.

Or maybe, he could explain. He was on his phone, tapping away as he found a stool and clicked the phone off shortly after, setting it face down on the Kitchen Island and tucking his feet up onto the middle rung of his seat.

"Smells good."

He says, looking through the fare for a dish of bulgogi he could add atop his kimchi taco like a meat-seasoning. Had he even noticed you were wearing your headphones?

Grins as the au natural hunk has been seen frolicking in the water.

takes out my phone to look through messages

The House
And not just because Karl Urban is sexy, because there are plenty of other things to watch him in.

chuckles quietly

thinks about what new projects I should try to do it

Main House
There weren't that many performances left in the run for Plus One, but Holly had been making… an effort to be more equitable with her time.

What was previously just a habit of lingering after shows with Leo turned into one concerted effort to go out, as with yesterday, and tonight she went straight from the show back home, or… to Brix's place.

Crazy how Leo had their own apartment before she had a place of her own. Or not that crazy, all things considered. Buying something putting down roots, owning property.

Signing the social contract and pretending to exist? Holly would rather slide through the liminal space between worlds, perpetually transitory.

…surrounded by people who needed solidity. Consistency. Promises and predictability.

She'd gotten in a lil bit ago, took a dip in the beach before it got dark, ordered food, took a shower, and then came out just in time to receive delivery — some Mexorean… Korxican? It's kimchi tacos, we'll come up with a cute moniker later.

Earbuds in.

Paper bags rattled, soft-plastic tubs of sauce and accoutrements opened on trays. Small self-serving tongs, a hotplate set to an oddly specific "Keep the tortillas hot" setting.

Near-soundlessly, Holly hummed over the song and helped herself at the kitchen island, occasionally having to pause and close her eyes in anticipation of a gut-punch in what felt more like melodic poetry in her ears.

The House
It is a shame this show only got 13 episodes.

not into playing?

I should leave... getting late here. Hope you will find a good playmate tonight!