[MoM][IC Contact]

[pummelgranite]

"Persephone. Speak."

Comments

[pummelgranite]

[ What the christ is this? Persephone isn't used to such formal communication, but she does like getting her hands into adversarial pies, so sure. Why not? ]

No shite?

[art_of_war]

[ ...okay Thrawn has no idea what that word is, but assuming it's some form of agreement. ]

Judging from what other communications I could find you would be familiar with someone calling themselves 'Woden'.

[pummelgranite]

Who is this?

[art_of_war]

Are you asking for my name?

[pummelgranite]

Among other potentially useful identifying details, yeah, I am.

[art_of_war]

As I sad, you do not know who I am, but my name is Thrawn.

[pummelgranite]

OK, Mystery Thrwan. Tell me why I should care about the fact that your cheerios in particular have been pissed in this well-established serial cheerio-pisser.

[art_of_war]

Do you recall a certain fluorescent riding beast?

[pummelgranite]

How could I forget?
The horse was people.

[art_of_war]

That is correct. It also had repercussions.

Which Woden has exacerbated.

[pummelgranite]

He does love exacerbating repercussions.

[art_of_war]

As it was initially something of an isolated incident, I might have ignored it, but as I said. Repercussions.

I have many questions, but I would rather not ask them here. Where can you answer them?

[pummelgranite]

Lucky you, I'm accepting audiences.

Your brain's organic, yeah? Anytime between 11:37 and oh, let's say one AM. Enter the Maurtia Falls Underground station right by the porter. Hop the tracks for the northbound green line, and follow the tracks southwards. About half a mile in, there will be a white door that says "STAFF ONLY." Walk through, close it behind you, then walk back through it the other way.

All on foot. No more than three of you.

[art_of_war]

[ ...wat. ]


You realize that sounds ridiculous, yes?

[pummelgranite]

I'm Persephone. Look me up. You want your audience, you come to the Underground.

[Lord knows she wont do any kind of useful exposition over TEXT. Hell, she probably won't at all. Welcome to dealing with gods, Thrwan. ]

See you tonight.