(L1, Bathroom) Don't Dally (LIT)
It was a tan notebook, new, fresh, with the bulbous shape of an aeroship stamped into the front. Cheap leather but a notebook all the same, a personal journal as opposed to class notes. There was an ink stain near one corner, just poking up over the side of the toilet, wedged as it was between porcelain and wall.
The first page read, in a scrawling text that was young and immature and almost excited:
Quote:
Dangerous David's Daring Dalliance
Beneath that, in tighter and smaller letters,
Quote:
Absolutely positively a hundred percent private!!! DO NOT READ!!!!!!!!!!
There was no identification, no sign of who the book belonged to other than the ship stamped on the front and the scrawling, goofy handwriting that filled the first twenty or so pages. No possessive name, no 'return to', or any other kind of identifying mark. As well-loved as this book was, the owner didn't want to be associated with it, apparently.
That or he'd just forgotten to write his name.
A daring young man, or a curious one, or a mean-spirited one, would turn past that first warning page and get to the meat of a story long in progress, enter into the tale mid-sentence. This was not the first book in the epic, but it was easy enough to join in,
Quote:
[...] me behind!" She cried in her angel's voice, barely clinging to the edge of the window. Three of her delicate fingers were curled over the edge, but only three now, Lucy dangling like a fish on a line and staring up into his face as she swayed in the wind. David stared past her, down toward the hills and the valleys, the desert beyond, hurtling along miles and miles below them. He could see the blue of the water in the distance, but it was much too far for them to reach before she tumbled free and plummeted to her death.
He turned quickly, his voice strong and deep. The sound of it, as always, drew the attention of every man on board. He might only have been 22, but David was the captain of this ship, by the mona, and they would do as he said! "Line! I need a line, and fetch me Callen, he should be strong enough!"
Of course he was. Callen was a brute of a man, a monster of a human. He might not have had any magic of his own, but he did as he was told and David told him to be strong. It took daily exercises to make the dark-eyed man as huge as he was, muscles rippling under skin, bulging as he tied the rope around David's ankles and [...]
There was more of this incredible exploit; David quipping carelessly as he was lowered out the window to rescue the dangling, helpless beauty that was Lucy. Purple prose described her lips, her hair, but more focus was poured into the wonder that was David, his shape and his color and his strength and his strong voice as he hauled her up and...and...
And that was all there was. The author of this 'fabulous' tale had presumably been called away in a rush, the last letter scrawling away in a mess. Why else would he have left a book this important behind?
- open to anyone, regardless of their previous involvement in the storyline
- public - created for a specific set of players, but set in a public location where others could join in or post as bystanders
- restricted entry, set in a private location where only specified players can participate
- literature thread; the post is standalone fiction, and does not allow IC replies (though might allow for OOC comments) 
