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They have perfect pitch. Their favorite weapon is handmade studded gloves. Their journal is full of nice things their friends have done for them. They're aro. They wear red stockings that canonically make you look like a slut. They love-poisoned themself by accident. They've regular-poisoned themself on purpose. They might think jaundice is hot. They don't know their own name. They like orange juice. They have indirectly killed hundreds over their love of board games. They have spent too much time looking at their friend's eyebrows. They are an honorary rat. They have beef with rats. They love being annoying. They cry super easily. Other people crying makes them uncomfortable. They can swallow medium-sized objects without gagging for reasons that are perfectly normal, probably. They're constantly broke. They don't know how to cook. They like growing mushrooms. They didn't know their own favorite color until someone else picked one for them. They have two sets of teeth. They love biting. They live in a cave. They're terrible at empathy. They started hunting the Vake because they were bored. They can heal themself by playing Megalovania on the kazoo. They do not remember where they learned this skill. They can play most woodwind instruments and the piano. They want to be loved. They think they're unlovable. They did foodplay in public. They've been exposed to enough Irrigo to start closing their eye sockets. They have opinions on water flavors. They don't understand romance but they do understand obsession and devotion. They would die and kill for their friends. They could have been Mr Wines' jester but turned it down out of pettiness. They would live in Parabola if they could. Their hair is based on Sharkboy from Sharkboy and Lavagirl. They're blond. They sleep with the mask on. I didn't say their name but they popped into your head didn't they
Piper's lab was rather cramped on the best of days. Piper didn't mind, being small and enjoying small spaces, but they needed to make sure April and the Freeloading Artist were out before they could invite Maven and Tailor in. There was evidence they'd both been here recently - drawings of rats painted with strange chemicals, a half-eaten bowl of cat food, boards of Correspondence half-covered with fabric. Piper pulled those a little straighter; they didn't know what April was working on this time, but it was best not to leave it too visible.
Luckily, they wouldn't be sticking around the lab long. They opened a cabinet, retrieving a jar of Prisoner's Honey the Artist hadn't eaten too much of.
"Some people like to eat it to get into Parabola, but I find it easier to just paint the mirror-frame," Piper explained to Tailor, uncovering a full-length mirror and getting to work with a flat-edged brush. "Once you get enough practice, it takes less honey this way, and gets you to a more precise destination. And maybe it's just me, but I don't really like going in without a clear head."
Maybe that was unexpected, considering Piper's usual impulsivity. But there was plenty of time to go with the flow once actually in Parabola. Might as well make use of the natural laws on this side of the mirror, while they were still in effect.
"This is going to take us to my base camp. It's nothing too fancy, but it's plenty safe." Their normal base camp shines through the mirror, with flickers of Rubbery Men tending the thick flower bushes that serve as walls. It'll be a while before they're ready to bring anyone to their super-secret base, the one they're building all on their own.
"Anyway questions before we get going?" Piper asked, hands on their hips, head held high. Excited about going back into their element, getting to share the knowledge they've accumulated. Grateful that Maven let them take the lead this time. They were sure she'd have plenty to help out with explaining too, but it was nice to be able to help their friends in a less stressful situation than the Heist had been.
Though that reminded them, they'd have to be careful. This trip might remind Maven and Tailor to ask more questions than Piper wanted to answer. Just because they'd told Tene about their involvement with the Chessboard didn't make it any less scary. But Piper would deal with that if it came to it; Tailor probably had plenty of questions that didn't involve Piper at all. As far as they knew, this would be Tailor's second time going through the mirror intentionally, and there hadn't been much time for questions the first time.
Luckily, they wouldn't be sticking around the lab long. They opened a cabinet, retrieving a jar of Prisoner's Honey the Artist hadn't eaten too much of.
"Some people like to eat it to get into Parabola, but I find it easier to just paint the mirror-frame," Piper explained to Tailor, uncovering a full-length mirror and getting to work with a flat-edged brush. "Once you get enough practice, it takes less honey this way, and gets you to a more precise destination. And maybe it's just me, but I don't really like going in without a clear head."
Maybe that was unexpected, considering Piper's usual impulsivity. But there was plenty of time to go with the flow once actually in Parabola. Might as well make use of the natural laws on this side of the mirror, while they were still in effect.
"This is going to take us to my base camp. It's nothing too fancy, but it's plenty safe." Their normal base camp shines through the mirror, with flickers of Rubbery Men tending the thick flower bushes that serve as walls. It'll be a while before they're ready to bring anyone to their super-secret base, the one they're building all on their own.
"Anyway questions before we get going?" Piper asked, hands on their hips, head held high. Excited about going back into their element, getting to share the knowledge they've accumulated. Grateful that Maven let them take the lead this time. They were sure she'd have plenty to help out with explaining too, but it was nice to be able to help their friends in a less stressful situation than the Heist had been.
Though that reminded them, they'd have to be careful. This trip might remind Maven and Tailor to ask more questions than Piper wanted to answer. Just because they'd told Tene about their involvement with the Chessboard didn't make it any less scary. But Piper would deal with that if it came to it; Tailor probably had plenty of questions that didn't involve Piper at all. As far as they knew, this would be Tailor's second time going through the mirror intentionally, and there hadn't been much time for questions the first time.
Carnival! (Wednesday after Class 12)
Sep. 13th, 2025 12:08 amPiper really liked the carnival.
It was always bursting with (mostly) cheerful energy, there was plenty of weird food, weirder people, and opportunities to make dumb, stupid decisions. They were sure that all of things were going to be even more fun with a friend.
They pulled Tene along behind them, careful to keep to the most shaded areas, though their smile was dangerously bright. They'd loaned Tene their old Deafening Hat (didn't that time mandrake-hunting seem like a lifetime ago?) to keep nem extra shaded, just in case. Piper looked normal as usual, red stockings they no longer pretended to be embarrassed by, cropped trousers, fingerless studded gloves, ragged shirt and vest. No one cared how you were dressed here, anyway.
"I've already got us plenty of tickets," they told Tene, not mentioning that they'd stolen most of them, mostly because it was faster than waiting in line. "Where do you want to go first? There's the 'Anatomy Exhibition' closest, but it's honestly kind of boring. They don't even point out the different bones or muscles or tell you what they're called, even though they keep advertising it as educational. I could teach a better anatomy class and I don't even remember half of anything." They snorted. "Of course, if you wanna go, maybe it'll be more interesting for you, not having much anatomy and all."
"Then there's the refreshment pavilion," they pointed a little further away, "but, uh, that's probably not gonna be too interesting to you... there's the bigtop and the sideshows, all kinds of crazy acrobatics and performances. That's where most of the action is. Games 'n stuff, too. Watch your pockets, though."
While they said this, they smacked the hand of a teenager that was getting a little too close. He shrugged, grinned, and moved on.
"Sometimes I can catch someone to play chess with in the Games Tent, but nobody who's any good. I'm supposed to be teaching Professor tomorrow; I could teach you too, if you want." Probably not the highest priority for carnival activities, though.
"There's fortune-telling, if you believe in that - I don't really know if I do or not, to be honest, but it's fun anyway - and the House of Mirrors, which is never very crowded, but always interesting. Though, uh, be careful not to fall through any of them. I think I ended up in Parabola that way, once. Didn't have a clue what was happening back then." They chuckled.
"And then there's the Ferris Wheel, the 'Beneath the Neath.'" That's an easy landmark to point to. "It's kind of strange, it actually takes you down before taking you back up." Though they don't know of any other Ferris Wheels, they have the feeling this isn't normal. "But it's cool down there, all kinds of glowing slugs and performers and stuff, and then when you come back up you get the best view of London there is." Or at least the best view Piper knows of.
"So, yeah! Anything you want to try first?" Piper shifts on their feet, suddenly nervous they've either under- or over-sold all of it.
It was always bursting with (mostly) cheerful energy, there was plenty of weird food, weirder people, and opportunities to make dumb, stupid decisions. They were sure that all of things were going to be even more fun with a friend.
They pulled Tene along behind them, careful to keep to the most shaded areas, though their smile was dangerously bright. They'd loaned Tene their old Deafening Hat (didn't that time mandrake-hunting seem like a lifetime ago?) to keep nem extra shaded, just in case. Piper looked normal as usual, red stockings they no longer pretended to be embarrassed by, cropped trousers, fingerless studded gloves, ragged shirt and vest. No one cared how you were dressed here, anyway.
"I've already got us plenty of tickets," they told Tene, not mentioning that they'd stolen most of them, mostly because it was faster than waiting in line. "Where do you want to go first? There's the 'Anatomy Exhibition' closest, but it's honestly kind of boring. They don't even point out the different bones or muscles or tell you what they're called, even though they keep advertising it as educational. I could teach a better anatomy class and I don't even remember half of anything." They snorted. "Of course, if you wanna go, maybe it'll be more interesting for you, not having much anatomy and all."
"Then there's the refreshment pavilion," they pointed a little further away, "but, uh, that's probably not gonna be too interesting to you... there's the bigtop and the sideshows, all kinds of crazy acrobatics and performances. That's where most of the action is. Games 'n stuff, too. Watch your pockets, though."
While they said this, they smacked the hand of a teenager that was getting a little too close. He shrugged, grinned, and moved on.
"Sometimes I can catch someone to play chess with in the Games Tent, but nobody who's any good. I'm supposed to be teaching Professor tomorrow; I could teach you too, if you want." Probably not the highest priority for carnival activities, though.
"There's fortune-telling, if you believe in that - I don't really know if I do or not, to be honest, but it's fun anyway - and the House of Mirrors, which is never very crowded, but always interesting. Though, uh, be careful not to fall through any of them. I think I ended up in Parabola that way, once. Didn't have a clue what was happening back then." They chuckled.
"And then there's the Ferris Wheel, the 'Beneath the Neath.'" That's an easy landmark to point to. "It's kind of strange, it actually takes you down before taking you back up." Though they don't know of any other Ferris Wheels, they have the feeling this isn't normal. "But it's cool down there, all kinds of glowing slugs and performers and stuff, and then when you come back up you get the best view of London there is." Or at least the best view Piper knows of.
"So, yeah! Anything you want to try first?" Piper shifts on their feet, suddenly nervous they've either under- or over-sold all of it.
The board is empty.
You'd think that would be a good thing. No games. No secret pursuers. Nothing but blank black-white-black-white-black as far as the eye can see.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
You can still move, one square at a time, but you might as well be treading water for all the progress you make. The same four horizons extend into the infinite.
There's no one here. Why did you hope someone would be here? Why would you wish this on anyone else?
You try to call out, less expecting a response, more to hear your own voice. The silence is agony.
Even your voice is gone. No one can hear you. No one can save you. You can't even distract yourself with a silly little tune, or mourn with a sorrowful dirge, or rage with lyrics screamed at the top of your lungs.
You might as well be nothing. You almost were, once, weren't you? Could you still be again?
It's not what you want. Not really. You just want out of this place.
You're so tired of being alone.
You'd think that would be a good thing. No games. No secret pursuers. Nothing but blank black-white-black-white-black as far as the eye can see.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
You can still move, one square at a time, but you might as well be treading water for all the progress you make. The same four horizons extend into the infinite.
There's no one here. Why did you hope someone would be here? Why would you wish this on anyone else?
You try to call out, less expecting a response, more to hear your own voice. The silence is agony.
Even your voice is gone. No one can hear you. No one can save you. You can't even distract yourself with a silly little tune, or mourn with a sorrowful dirge, or rage with lyrics screamed at the top of your lungs.
You might as well be nothing. You almost were, once, weren't you? Could you still be again?
It's not what you want. Not really. You just want out of this place.
You're so tired of being alone.
Withering (After Class 12)
Aug. 31st, 2025 03:03 pmAs much as Piper had commiserated with the Mycologist over the man's loss of fungi, following the incident with Hell, Piper's own growths hadn't don't much better. Singing to them had been able to coax out what little energy they had left, but the small plot of Ortcaps at their favorite spot in the Flit was still sparse. Reduced.
There was a hollow feeling in Piper's stomach as they played their shawm with soil-stained fingers. The weeds had been removed, the darkness darkened, nutritious fertilizer applied. Everything concrete they could do had been done. Their music was more of a wish, a hope, moaning through the boards and walkways like a ghost. Something more energetic would have been better, probably, but the energy was difficult to summon. Death seemed to follow them, clinging to their skin like spores.
They probably shouldn't even be up here, where anyone could see them. But the makeshift gardens were hardly popular. And they needed to get out of their house and their lab sometimes. The lack of fresh air - or what passed for it in the Neath - would suffocate them.
The dirge was still spilling from their instrument when a familiar face - or lack thereof - unexpectedly arrived.
There was a hollow feeling in Piper's stomach as they played their shawm with soil-stained fingers. The weeds had been removed, the darkness darkened, nutritious fertilizer applied. Everything concrete they could do had been done. Their music was more of a wish, a hope, moaning through the boards and walkways like a ghost. Something more energetic would have been better, probably, but the energy was difficult to summon. Death seemed to follow them, clinging to their skin like spores.
They probably shouldn't even be up here, where anyone could see them. But the makeshift gardens were hardly popular. And they needed to get out of their house and their lab sometimes. The lack of fresh air - or what passed for it in the Neath - would suffocate them.
The dirge was still spilling from their instrument when a familiar face - or lack thereof - unexpectedly arrived.
(inbox) rat mail is the new pigeon mail
Aug. 11th, 2025 11:01 pmHuh? You wanted to reach the Piper? You're in Fallen London; there's bound to be a rat somewhere within twenty feet of you. Pass one of them a note and hum a few annoying bars, and they'll know who it's for. It'll probably to its intended recipient. As long as your parchment doesn't smell too much like cheese.
OOC: Leave your calling card here! This post will be updated periodically with roleplay threads for archiving and ease of access.
Week 1 Threads
Week 2 Threads
Week 3 Threads
Week 4 Threads
Week 5 Threads
Week 6 Threads
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OOC: Leave your calling card here! This post will be updated periodically with roleplay threads for archiving and ease of access.
Week 1 Threads
Week 2 Threads
Week 3 Threads
Week 4 Threads
Week 5 Threads
Week 6 Threads
Week 7 Threads
Nightmare (Between Class ??? and ???)
Aug. 11th, 2025 10:38 pmYou're lost.
There's no recollection of how you got here, to this empty, flat place. No recollection of where you were before. Just tiles, white, black, white, black, splitting off smaller and smaller as far as the eye can see.
You take a step forward. You wait. You take a step forward. You wait. Your patience is wearing thin. You take a step forward. You wait. You take a step forward. You can't take two steps forward. You wait.
Behind you, faster and more agile, a shadow moves. Five moves to your one.
You take a step forward. You cannot outspeed it. You wait.
You take a step forward. The shadow breathes down your neck. You wait.
You take a step forward. You're living on borrowed time. You wait.
You take a step forward. You -
///
The Lied Piper bolted awake, sweat pouring down their neck. Their rough blankets were tangled around them, caught on the nose of their mask, clinging to their ankles. They bit through the fabric, tearing a way out with their teeth -
They should have been able to breathe again, after that. They couldn't.
Charlie wasn't here. Their mandrake was silent. All they could hear was their own choking, and bugs buzzing outside. Or was that buzzing inside their own ears? In their head?
They tried to suck in a breath. Their sleep shirt felt too tight.
It wasn't - it shouldn't have been - that bad of a dream. It didn't make sense; it didn't mean anything.
So why were they already reaching for the shrine on their nightstand? Already tearing off the cover, drinking in the deep indigo Irrigo, pupils swallowing it down like thirsty lips on a cup of laudanum -
They could breathe again. They couldn't remember not breathing. Why was there such a violent gash in their blankets? They hadn't been attacked, had they?
They covered their shrine, tongue poking at a thread caught in their teeth. Ah. So that was it.
Really, what nightmare could've been so disturbing that they'd felt the need to erase it immediately? It had worked, certainly, but...
They rubbed the bridge over their eyes, feeling their mask's smooth surface. It didn't come off even when they slept, of course. They could feel the headache pounding behind their eyes. More or less painful than indulging in that laudanum? Either way, the Irrigo was more effective, and less painful (and more easily accessible) than the Somnolent Hyaena.
...Perhaps too accessible. They tucked the shrine to St. Joshua into their nightstand drawer.
An unsettling air still hovered around the too-quiet room, but it didn't stop the Piper from falling back asleep.
There's no recollection of how you got here, to this empty, flat place. No recollection of where you were before. Just tiles, white, black, white, black, splitting off smaller and smaller as far as the eye can see.
You take a step forward. You wait. You take a step forward. You wait. Your patience is wearing thin. You take a step forward. You wait. You take a step forward. You can't take two steps forward. You wait.
Behind you, faster and more agile, a shadow moves. Five moves to your one.
You take a step forward. You cannot outspeed it. You wait.
You take a step forward. The shadow breathes down your neck. You wait.
You take a step forward. You're living on borrowed time. You wait.
You take a step forward. You -
///
The Lied Piper bolted awake, sweat pouring down their neck. Their rough blankets were tangled around them, caught on the nose of their mask, clinging to their ankles. They bit through the fabric, tearing a way out with their teeth -
They should have been able to breathe again, after that. They couldn't.
Charlie wasn't here. Their mandrake was silent. All they could hear was their own choking, and bugs buzzing outside. Or was that buzzing inside their own ears? In their head?
They tried to suck in a breath. Their sleep shirt felt too tight.
It wasn't - it shouldn't have been - that bad of a dream. It didn't make sense; it didn't mean anything.
So why were they already reaching for the shrine on their nightstand? Already tearing off the cover, drinking in the deep indigo Irrigo, pupils swallowing it down like thirsty lips on a cup of laudanum -
They could breathe again. They couldn't remember not breathing. Why was there such a violent gash in their blankets? They hadn't been attacked, had they?
They covered their shrine, tongue poking at a thread caught in their teeth. Ah. So that was it.
Really, what nightmare could've been so disturbing that they'd felt the need to erase it immediately? It had worked, certainly, but...
They rubbed the bridge over their eyes, feeling their mask's smooth surface. It didn't come off even when they slept, of course. They could feel the headache pounding behind their eyes. More or less painful than indulging in that laudanum? Either way, the Irrigo was more effective, and less painful (and more easily accessible) than the Somnolent Hyaena.
...Perhaps too accessible. They tucked the shrine to St. Joshua into their nightstand drawer.
An unsettling air still hovered around the too-quiet room, but it didn't stop the Piper from falling back asleep.
Prologue (Before Class 1)
Aug. 11th, 2025 08:38 pmThe mandrake would. Not. Stop. Screaming.
The Piper rolled over and flipped their pillow over the top of their head. Screaming was just what mandrakes did. It was in their nature.
The Piper really, really wished it was not in their nature at four in the morning, specifically.
“Can I please eat that thing already?” Charlie – the Disgraced Rattus Faber Bandit-Cheif, and the Piper’s current, uh, “roommate” – groaned.
“Tempting,” the Piper grumbled into their mattress.
“My pups didn’t even scream this much,” Charlie said. Or at least the Piper was pretty sure that was what he said; it was hard to tell over all the screaming, and the muffling pillow.
The shrieks continued for an indeterminable number of minutes before the Piper gave up on going back to sleep and rolled off the mattress.
“You said you had kids?” They yawned, shuffling over to the ceramic pot of stinking mud and shrieking mandrake.
Mmm. Mud. The smell was almost enough to distract from the noise.
“Have. Still see ‘em around the city sometimes.” The rat hopped out of his sleeping basket, taking the now-unoccupied, pre-warmed spot on the bed the Piper had vacated. Bastard.
“Hope they take after their mum.” The Piper rummaged in the dresser next to the mandrake’s pot and pulled out their kazoo.
“Ha ha. Hope that stupid root blows your ears out.”
The Piper chuckled. They were the expert on loud, annoying noises. They could handle a little more than this.
They hummed a raucous tune from the Docks into their kazoo, and after a dozen or so minutes, the mandrake was snoring peacefully.
The Piper rolled over and flipped their pillow over the top of their head. Screaming was just what mandrakes did. It was in their nature.
The Piper really, really wished it was not in their nature at four in the morning, specifically.
“Can I please eat that thing already?” Charlie – the Disgraced Rattus Faber Bandit-Cheif, and the Piper’s current, uh, “roommate” – groaned.
“Tempting,” the Piper grumbled into their mattress.
“My pups didn’t even scream this much,” Charlie said. Or at least the Piper was pretty sure that was what he said; it was hard to tell over all the screaming, and the muffling pillow.
The shrieks continued for an indeterminable number of minutes before the Piper gave up on going back to sleep and rolled off the mattress.
“You said you had kids?” They yawned, shuffling over to the ceramic pot of stinking mud and shrieking mandrake.
Mmm. Mud. The smell was almost enough to distract from the noise.
“Have. Still see ‘em around the city sometimes.” The rat hopped out of his sleeping basket, taking the now-unoccupied, pre-warmed spot on the bed the Piper had vacated. Bastard.
“Hope they take after their mum.” The Piper rummaged in the dresser next to the mandrake’s pot and pulled out their kazoo.
“Ha ha. Hope that stupid root blows your ears out.”
The Piper chuckled. They were the expert on loud, annoying noises. They could handle a little more than this.
They hummed a raucous tune from the Docks into their kazoo, and after a dozen or so minutes, the mandrake was snoring peacefully.
The Great Game didn't exactly accept resignation letters. The Cheesemonger had found that out the hard way.
To be honest, the Blighted Midnighter assumed they would, too. Luckily, they were never truly alive in the first place. But they didn't trust that they'd covered their tracks as well as they hoped. Alice hadn't, after all, and she'd been at this much longer than they had. Though, maybe that was their advantage. Was a brief flash in the pan pawn worth getting worked up over?
They would find out, they supposed. Whatever happened, it had to be better than the fate that had almost befallen the Piper. If the Piper died now, at least it would be as themself.
Well. If they died a little later than now. They were still the Midnighter, until this last contact was severed.
They closed their eyes and unwrapped the shrine to St. Joshua, placing it in front of the fireplace of their flophouse dorm. It would be the last time they saw these walls - the key would be tossed out, so the Piper couldn't forget and return here. Not that they were typically that clueless.
And they'd probably be at least marginally less forgetful, without the regular Irrigo exposure. The nightmares might be worse, but that's only what they deserve.
"I don't want to forget this," they murmured. They didn't dare write any of this in the Piper's Correspondence journals. If the Tailor had seen it, that time... or anyone else, for that matter...
But they needed to remember. They couldn't let the Piper make such foolish mistakes again. They couldn't keep stumbling through life, one reckless activity after another, just hoping that someone would come and bail them out. The Piper trusted and loved their friends, but that was all the more reason not to drag them down. They could get help - they wouldn't have survived without it - but they needed to help themself, too.
"I'm sorry, Alice. I'm sorry I couldn't fix this. I'm sorry it'll always be the same," they whispered. "But you... you wouldn't have wanted me to stay here, would you? I didn't know what else to do. I was just... angry, I think. At how pointless it all was. I think I was... angry at you, too."
They finally admitted it.
"You asked me to do your dirty work, and then you left." It didn't matter that she hadn't meant to die. "I thought you knew what you were doing. I - I trusted you, and you left."
So they'd done the opposite of what she'd wanted. They kept the game going. Pointless pettiness that only twisted the knife further into their heart, until - until embraced that knife, enjoying it -
There had been a time when the Piper had hated death, hadn't they? When it had terrified them more than anything. Permanence. But then the Midnighter - no, they - there was no difference between them. The Piper. They'd become a plague all their own.
(If they hadn't, someone else would have. Every chessboard has the same number of pieces.)
(They should've felt bad anyway. They didn't. Not for the right reasons, anyway.)
"Alright." They sniffed, still not opening their eyes. They could've left the shrine wrapped, and not risked their eyelids being the only barrier between them and the Irrigo. But somehow, it still felt right to confess to the shrine like this, one more time. "That's enough honesty, probably."
The Piper let out a ragged breath, the air too hot on their bare face. For the last time, hopefully.
"Goodbye. And good riddance."
They pushed the shrine into the fire.
To be honest, the Blighted Midnighter assumed they would, too. Luckily, they were never truly alive in the first place. But they didn't trust that they'd covered their tracks as well as they hoped. Alice hadn't, after all, and she'd been at this much longer than they had. Though, maybe that was their advantage. Was a brief flash in the pan pawn worth getting worked up over?
They would find out, they supposed. Whatever happened, it had to be better than the fate that had almost befallen the Piper. If the Piper died now, at least it would be as themself.
Well. If they died a little later than now. They were still the Midnighter, until this last contact was severed.
They closed their eyes and unwrapped the shrine to St. Joshua, placing it in front of the fireplace of their flophouse dorm. It would be the last time they saw these walls - the key would be tossed out, so the Piper couldn't forget and return here. Not that they were typically that clueless.
And they'd probably be at least marginally less forgetful, without the regular Irrigo exposure. The nightmares might be worse, but that's only what they deserve.
"I don't want to forget this," they murmured. They didn't dare write any of this in the Piper's Correspondence journals. If the Tailor had seen it, that time... or anyone else, for that matter...
But they needed to remember. They couldn't let the Piper make such foolish mistakes again. They couldn't keep stumbling through life, one reckless activity after another, just hoping that someone would come and bail them out. The Piper trusted and loved their friends, but that was all the more reason not to drag them down. They could get help - they wouldn't have survived without it - but they needed to help themself, too.
"I'm sorry, Alice. I'm sorry I couldn't fix this. I'm sorry it'll always be the same," they whispered. "But you... you wouldn't have wanted me to stay here, would you? I didn't know what else to do. I was just... angry, I think. At how pointless it all was. I think I was... angry at you, too."
They finally admitted it.
"You asked me to do your dirty work, and then you left." It didn't matter that she hadn't meant to die. "I thought you knew what you were doing. I - I trusted you, and you left."
So they'd done the opposite of what she'd wanted. They kept the game going. Pointless pettiness that only twisted the knife further into their heart, until - until embraced that knife, enjoying it -
There had been a time when the Piper had hated death, hadn't they? When it had terrified them more than anything. Permanence. But then the Midnighter - no, they - there was no difference between them. The Piper. They'd become a plague all their own.
(If they hadn't, someone else would have. Every chessboard has the same number of pieces.)
(They should've felt bad anyway. They didn't. Not for the right reasons, anyway.)
"Alright." They sniffed, still not opening their eyes. They could've left the shrine wrapped, and not risked their eyelids being the only barrier between them and the Irrigo. But somehow, it still felt right to confess to the shrine like this, one more time. "That's enough honesty, probably."
The Piper let out a ragged breath, the air too hot on their bare face. For the last time, hopefully.
"Goodbye. And good riddance."
They pushed the shrine into the fire.
The Chessboard (Between Class 7 and 8)
Jul. 30th, 2025 10:04 pmPiper closed their eyes, focusing on a specific swatch of the board. Breathing out, letting their towering Red bishop become a smear become a concept become a thought, before reappearing three spaces diagonal, crushing a knight beneath its now-corporeal weight. A grin stretched across their face at the sound of crumbling marble.
What was that? A Russian, an Italian, a Rubbery, a Devil? They were supposed to know. They were supposed to care.
"Care" was perhaps the wrong word. But they were supposed to have a goal, at least. Most of the players on the Chessboard did. But the Piper wasn't here in their bare-faced Midnighter garb. The Blighted Midnighter didn't have access to Parabola; all of their hideouts were in the real world. This was the Piper's game, now.
And the Piper didn't care.
They moved pawns with abandon. Jumped knights and cornered rooks. Their heart beat fast in their chest, but from excitement, not anxiety.
The outcome didn't matter. They were just here for the love of the game.
It had been disappointing, in a lot of ways, to learn that this was it. All the mechanations, on the Neath and the Surface, tied to nothing more than dreams. Sure, maybe some of those dreams had a point, but from what Piper could tell, most were as meaningless as the distinction between black and white.
April was right. (April? No, April was the Revolutionary. Alice. Alice, Alice, Alice<. They couldn't forget her. It was thanks to her that they'd gotten this far.)
(She'd made them feel like they were doing something important. Like they were something important.)
(But it had never mattered. They'd trusted her, and then she was gone.)
They crushed a pawn without mercy. Who was that? An urchin? A mother?
It didn't matter. If Piper didn't play, someone else would just take their place, right? So who cared? If the Great Game wanted to base their stupid plots on stupid dreams, why should the Piper care?
Why shouldn't they enjoy it?
They played aggressively, without any of the Midnighter's typical restraint. A chess match was better when you could banter with your opponent, but barring that, the thrill of pushing your luck as far as it could go would have to do. Not all moves were made directly in Parabola, they'd learned, and the amalgam of dreams could be either clever or rash, depending on the night. Black, tonight's opponent, was more on the rash side, out of temperament and necessity. Piper preferred fighting them over White, though they held no love for either camp. They were all the same. Different tints on the same bland hue.
They grinned, chasing a check. This was much more fun than playing out moves in the real world. No memorizing and purging passcodes. No implied meanings. No revealing disguises. Just the Game itself.
Let others play the pawns. The Piper was done. They'd learned all the secrets they'd came here for.
When the Black king fell, the Piper was already resetting the board.
What was that? A Russian, an Italian, a Rubbery, a Devil? They were supposed to know. They were supposed to care.
"Care" was perhaps the wrong word. But they were supposed to have a goal, at least. Most of the players on the Chessboard did. But the Piper wasn't here in their bare-faced Midnighter garb. The Blighted Midnighter didn't have access to Parabola; all of their hideouts were in the real world. This was the Piper's game, now.
And the Piper didn't care.
They moved pawns with abandon. Jumped knights and cornered rooks. Their heart beat fast in their chest, but from excitement, not anxiety.
The outcome didn't matter. They were just here for the love of the game.
It had been disappointing, in a lot of ways, to learn that this was it. All the mechanations, on the Neath and the Surface, tied to nothing more than dreams. Sure, maybe some of those dreams had a point, but from what Piper could tell, most were as meaningless as the distinction between black and white.
April was right. (April? No, April was the Revolutionary. Alice. Alice, Alice, Alice<. They couldn't forget her. It was thanks to her that they'd gotten this far.)
(She'd made them feel like they were doing something important. Like they were something important.)
(But it had never mattered. They'd trusted her, and then she was gone.)
They crushed a pawn without mercy. Who was that? An urchin? A mother?
It didn't matter. If Piper didn't play, someone else would just take their place, right? So who cared? If the Great Game wanted to base their stupid plots on stupid dreams, why should the Piper care?
Why shouldn't they enjoy it?
They played aggressively, without any of the Midnighter's typical restraint. A chess match was better when you could banter with your opponent, but barring that, the thrill of pushing your luck as far as it could go would have to do. Not all moves were made directly in Parabola, they'd learned, and the amalgam of dreams could be either clever or rash, depending on the night. Black, tonight's opponent, was more on the rash side, out of temperament and necessity. Piper preferred fighting them over White, though they held no love for either camp. They were all the same. Different tints on the same bland hue.
They grinned, chasing a check. This was much more fun than playing out moves in the real world. No memorizing and purging passcodes. No implied meanings. No revealing disguises. Just the Game itself.
Let others play the pawns. The Piper was done. They'd learned all the secrets they'd came here for.
When the Black king fell, the Piper was already resetting the board.
Week 6 Threads
Jul. 22nd, 2025 09:58 pmSign In:
Squeezing between Mycologist and Tailor
Before Class:
Appreciating the Pupil's art
Offering the Mycologist a mushroom
Sharing more mushrooms with the Maven
Activity:
Accidentally de-aros your aro. Bad flirting incomingAfter Class:
Running away like a coward
Bonus:
A Late Night Chat (Self-Recognition Through The Other (Derogatory))
Squeezing between Mycologist and Tailor
Before Class:
Appreciating the Pupil's art
Offering the Mycologist a mushroom
Sharing more mushrooms with the Maven
Activity:
Accidentally de-aros your aro. Bad flirting incomingAfter Class:
Running away like a coward
Bonus:
A Late Night Chat (Self-Recognition Through The Other (Derogatory))
Week 5 Threads
Jul. 22nd, 2025 09:49 pmSign In:
Kazoo
Before Class:
Post-Duel Nod of Respect
A curse upon music, too
"How you doing?" (ft. the Maven)
Activity:
F.A.F.O.
Kazoo
Before Class:
Post-Duel Nod of Respect
A curse upon music, too
"How you doing?" (ft. the Maven)
Activity:
F.A.F.O.
Assignment critique for the Chimeric Professor
Eavesdropping on assignments:
Eavesdropping on assignments:
Week 4 Threads
Jul. 22nd, 2025 09:23 pmSign In:
Early to class!
Before Class:
Absolutely too excited to have died (ft. Maven and Scientist)
Failing Stoat Knowledge Checks (ft. the Socialite and Tularemia)
Drawing Tailor and Tularemia
Appreciating terrible graphic design alongside Devil and Maven
Time with the Teacher:
Existential Crisis
After Class:
Invited to a musical! The Piper will now die for you.
Early to class!
Before Class:
Absolutely too excited to have died (ft. Maven and Scientist)
Failing Stoat Knowledge Checks (ft. the Socialite and Tularemia)
Drawing Tailor and Tularemia
Appreciating terrible graphic design alongside Devil and Maven
Time with the Teacher:
Existential Crisis
After Class:
Invited to a musical! The Piper will now die for you.
Week 3 Threads
Jul. 22nd, 2025 09:08 pmSign In:
Sign In
Before Class:
Eavesdropping on Maven, Devil, and Tailor
Befriending the Chimeric Professor
Contemplating metal with the Mechanic
Lecture:
The mortifying ordeal of being known (by themself)
Break Time:
In the closet with the Tailor (again)
Help from the Maven
Help from the Professor
Reflection on words
After Class:
Agreeing to stay for a meeting (which they will immediately forget about)
Bonus:
Homework Assignment (To the Boatman!)
Sign In
Before Class:
Eavesdropping on Maven, Devil, and Tailor
Befriending the Chimeric Professor
Contemplating metal with the Mechanic
Lecture:
The mortifying ordeal of being known (by themself)
Break Time:
In the closet with the Tailor (again)
Help from the Maven
Help from the Professor
Reflection on words
After Class:
Agreeing to stay for a meeting (which they will immediately forget about)
Bonus:
Homework Assignment (To the Boatman!)
A Late Night Chat (Between Class 6 and 7)
Jul. 22nd, 2025 07:49 pmThe door to the Piper's lab - more of a large closet, honestly - banged open, finally revealing their, er, "lab assistant."
"You're late." Piper yawned, peeling their face up from their desk. "I almost ended up in Parabola the old-fashioned way."
"Well, I'm glad to see you weren't having fun without me." The Struggling Artist smiled, placing a jar of Prisoner's Honey on the desk with an unnecessary flourish.
"How could I have fun without you?" Piper rolled their eyes.
It was rude, but the Artist just laughed. No amount of insults or sarcasm could push the annoying bugger away. Piper couldn't decide if that quality was endearing or obnoxious.
It was a relatable enough quality that they tried to consider it the former.
"Thanks," they added belatedly, rubbing their eyes. They really should have gone home earlier. They weren't going to get any more research done at this rate.
"You're quite welcome. I accept tips if you are pleased with my service." The Artist bowed.
Piper snorted.
"Don't drink alcohol after eating Ink Caps. There's a tip." Speaking of drinks -
They poured a cup of tea from their thermos - one of the special blends the Diligent Rodent had dropped by when she was leaving for the evening. This iteration of C3 no longer numbed the hands, and instead numbed the sleep deprivation headache they had coming on. At the Artist's expectant look, the Piper poured him a cup too.
"You are ever so kind, my love," he said.
"Don't call me that." Piper grimaced.
"Oh, you know I don't mean it." He waved, managing to spill a bit of tea on the concrete floor.
"I know. And thank hell for that." They sighed. Normally they find his over-the-top, meaningless flirting more entertaining than annoying. "Sorry. Rough week."
The memories of class hadn't faded, likely due to the Correspondence symbol involved. Just their luck.
"Romance troubles?" The Artist scooted his chair closer, always eager for some gossip. "Do you need some pointers in seduction? I would be happy to teach you a lesson or two."
"You know I seduced you, right?"
"Hm. That's not how I remember it." He scratched his mustache.
Piper frowned. They'd rather not pit their memory against anyone else's right now.
"It doesn't matter, because I don't need help. I... didn't mean to 'seduce' anyone. And I didn't. I..."
They sighed, running a hand down their face before taking another long sip of tea.
"Did you ever actually love me?" they blurted.
The Artist blinked.
"Ah. Hm. Would you like an honest answer, or a polite one?"
"Honest."
"Then no."
A breath of relief. Of course, even if he had, the Piper still shouldn't have felt bad about using him. It was his own fault for foolishly letting any fluttery emotions get the best of him.
But now that the Piper had felt those emotions, even if only briefly... well. It just. It didn't feel right. To consider anyone else weak for having them. Or for wanting them.
"You were a great deal of fun. You still are," the Artist said, as if trying to soften the blow. "Your critiques of my work were always... ah, inspiring." He grimaced.
His art still wasn't good. Piper didn't bother telling him that right now, though.
"Why do you ask? I haven't managed to seduce you again, have I?" He tilted his head, trying to give them his best leer.
It was comical enough to make Piper laugh.
"In your dreams." They knocked back another swig of tea.
"Speaking of dreams, why don't you get some rest? I honestly expected you to have left by the time I returned."
"Then why did you even bother coming back?" Piper always locked up the lab when they left. Unless they forgot. ...Naturally, they forgot a lot.
He shrugged. "Nothing better to do."
Ugh. He really was pathetic. They were some kind of match, weren't they? Two fellows too annoying for anyone else to handle long-term. Using anyone who hadn't yet wizened up.
Did he ever want to be different? Could Piper ever be different?
Despite everything, or because of it, they weren't actually close. Piper didn't want to hear whatever answer the Artist might have. They weren't sure which was scarier: if they were destined to always be this way, or if they could change, and just weren't diligent enough to.
"You should stop scowling. You'll get wrinkles," the Artist said.
The Piper scowled harder on principle.
"Not like anyone could see them." They tapped their mask.
"Ah, but you will, won't you?"
"Bold of you to assume this isn't my real face."
It was. The skin beneath was the false persona. The Artist had never seen it, and never would.
"Alright, scowl all you wish. If you can't take constructive criticism from an expert on beauty, that's none of my concern." He set his empty teacup on the desk, then stood and stretched. "Goodnight, Piper. I won't bother telling you to get some beauty sleep."
"Same to you." They waved him off, and he chuckled as he left.
Piper had to shut the door behind him. Inconsiderate prick.
They rubbed their forehead. The C3 wasn't doing a very good job this time.
"You're late." Piper yawned, peeling their face up from their desk. "I almost ended up in Parabola the old-fashioned way."
"Well, I'm glad to see you weren't having fun without me." The Struggling Artist smiled, placing a jar of Prisoner's Honey on the desk with an unnecessary flourish.
"How could I have fun without you?" Piper rolled their eyes.
It was rude, but the Artist just laughed. No amount of insults or sarcasm could push the annoying bugger away. Piper couldn't decide if that quality was endearing or obnoxious.
It was a relatable enough quality that they tried to consider it the former.
"Thanks," they added belatedly, rubbing their eyes. They really should have gone home earlier. They weren't going to get any more research done at this rate.
"You're quite welcome. I accept tips if you are pleased with my service." The Artist bowed.
Piper snorted.
"Don't drink alcohol after eating Ink Caps. There's a tip." Speaking of drinks -
They poured a cup of tea from their thermos - one of the special blends the Diligent Rodent had dropped by when she was leaving for the evening. This iteration of C3 no longer numbed the hands, and instead numbed the sleep deprivation headache they had coming on. At the Artist's expectant look, the Piper poured him a cup too.
"You are ever so kind, my love," he said.
"Don't call me that." Piper grimaced.
"Oh, you know I don't mean it." He waved, managing to spill a bit of tea on the concrete floor.
"I know. And thank hell for that." They sighed. Normally they find his over-the-top, meaningless flirting more entertaining than annoying. "Sorry. Rough week."
The memories of class hadn't faded, likely due to the Correspondence symbol involved. Just their luck.
"Romance troubles?" The Artist scooted his chair closer, always eager for some gossip. "Do you need some pointers in seduction? I would be happy to teach you a lesson or two."
"You know I seduced you, right?"
"Hm. That's not how I remember it." He scratched his mustache.
Piper frowned. They'd rather not pit their memory against anyone else's right now.
"It doesn't matter, because I don't need help. I... didn't mean to 'seduce' anyone. And I didn't. I..."
They sighed, running a hand down their face before taking another long sip of tea.
"Did you ever actually love me?" they blurted.
The Artist blinked.
"Ah. Hm. Would you like an honest answer, or a polite one?"
"Honest."
"Then no."
A breath of relief. Of course, even if he had, the Piper still shouldn't have felt bad about using him. It was his own fault for foolishly letting any fluttery emotions get the best of him.
But now that the Piper had felt those emotions, even if only briefly... well. It just. It didn't feel right. To consider anyone else weak for having them. Or for wanting them.
"You were a great deal of fun. You still are," the Artist said, as if trying to soften the blow. "Your critiques of my work were always... ah, inspiring." He grimaced.
His art still wasn't good. Piper didn't bother telling him that right now, though.
"Why do you ask? I haven't managed to seduce you again, have I?" He tilted his head, trying to give them his best leer.
It was comical enough to make Piper laugh.
"In your dreams." They knocked back another swig of tea.
"Speaking of dreams, why don't you get some rest? I honestly expected you to have left by the time I returned."
"Then why did you even bother coming back?" Piper always locked up the lab when they left. Unless they forgot. ...Naturally, they forgot a lot.
He shrugged. "Nothing better to do."
Ugh. He really was pathetic. They were some kind of match, weren't they? Two fellows too annoying for anyone else to handle long-term. Using anyone who hadn't yet wizened up.
Did he ever want to be different? Could Piper ever be different?
Despite everything, or because of it, they weren't actually close. Piper didn't want to hear whatever answer the Artist might have. They weren't sure which was scarier: if they were destined to always be this way, or if they could change, and just weren't diligent enough to.
"You should stop scowling. You'll get wrinkles," the Artist said.
The Piper scowled harder on principle.
"Not like anyone could see them." They tapped their mask.
"Ah, but you will, won't you?"
"Bold of you to assume this isn't my real face."
It was. The skin beneath was the false persona. The Artist had never seen it, and never would.
"Alright, scowl all you wish. If you can't take constructive criticism from an expert on beauty, that's none of my concern." He set his empty teacup on the desk, then stood and stretched. "Goodnight, Piper. I won't bother telling you to get some beauty sleep."
"Same to you." They waved him off, and he chuckled as he left.
Piper had to shut the door behind him. Inconsiderate prick.
They rubbed their forehead. The C3 wasn't doing a very good job this time.
Homework (Class 3)
Jun. 28th, 2025 11:12 pmThe Lied Piper sat with legs crossed in the Labyrinth of Tigers' Second Coil. Behind the bars, but that was safe here, unlike in the Third Coil. Here, they were something of a cross between an employee and a celebrity.
(Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but either way, nobody bothered them.)
They hummed casually on their kazoo, feeling out pieces of melody not yet fully composed. Their mind wasn't much on it; it was just something to keep them busy while they hung out with the Somnolent Hyaena. The creature seemed to enjoy the song well enough. It kept trying to nuzzle their side, like a big cat. Maybe it liked the rat smell on them.
Or maybe it just wanted attention. Every time the Piper's masked face met those green eyes...
Their limbs weakened. They tucked the kazoo into their belt, yawning. They felt they might finally lay down for a nightmareless nap.
Of course, that wasn't exactly the plan. There was a reason they'd waited until now to come see the Hyaena, and it wasn't just because of the nightmares sparked by this week's class.
(Honestly, they weren't much worse than usual. The professor had really hyped them up too much. Twisted dreams of forgetting and betraying their friends? Bone growing over their eyes? Monsters they fought shifting to have human faces? Yeah, that was a normal Thursday. They were fine.)
"Y'know, I expected my first death to be a little more exciting." They yawned as their strength continued to drain. Maybe they should've gotten into a duel instead. But this was more efficient. Dying on its own wouldn't soothe any nightmares; it would probably just make them worse. This method would kill two birds with one stone.
Er... kill one bird and put the other to sleep...? Whatever.
"Thanks for the help." They patted the Hyaena's head blindly. "You're a real one."
They had an appointment with a dead assassin. Hopefully they'd make it back in time for next week's class.
The green light surrounding them faded, and all went black.
(Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but either way, nobody bothered them.)
They hummed casually on their kazoo, feeling out pieces of melody not yet fully composed. Their mind wasn't much on it; it was just something to keep them busy while they hung out with the Somnolent Hyaena. The creature seemed to enjoy the song well enough. It kept trying to nuzzle their side, like a big cat. Maybe it liked the rat smell on them.
Or maybe it just wanted attention. Every time the Piper's masked face met those green eyes...
Their limbs weakened. They tucked the kazoo into their belt, yawning. They felt they might finally lay down for a nightmareless nap.
Of course, that wasn't exactly the plan. There was a reason they'd waited until now to come see the Hyaena, and it wasn't just because of the nightmares sparked by this week's class.
(Honestly, they weren't much worse than usual. The professor had really hyped them up too much. Twisted dreams of forgetting and betraying their friends? Bone growing over their eyes? Monsters they fought shifting to have human faces? Yeah, that was a normal Thursday. They were fine.)
"Y'know, I expected my first death to be a little more exciting." They yawned as their strength continued to drain. Maybe they should've gotten into a duel instead. But this was more efficient. Dying on its own wouldn't soothe any nightmares; it would probably just make them worse. This method would kill two birds with one stone.
Er... kill one bird and put the other to sleep...? Whatever.
"Thanks for the help." They patted the Hyaena's head blindly. "You're a real one."
They had an appointment with a dead assassin. Hopefully they'd make it back in time for next week's class.
The green light surrounding them faded, and all went black.
Week 2 Threads
Jun. 28th, 2025 01:02 pmSign In:
Sign In
Before Class:
Inviting themself to dance lessons with Devil, Maven, and Mycologist
And everyone clapped! ... No? Just me?
Exchanging notes for scrap with the Mechanic
Greeting the Sub and Maven checking in
Lecture:
A change of perspective?
Fire! In The Classroom (ft. Devil and Mechanic) (Don't try this at home!)
Activity:
This is easy! ...says the one who, uh, didn't actually end up finishing it. Oops
After Class:
Letting a "secret" slip (monster hunting debacle setup)
Dancing plans
Sign In
Before Class:
Inviting themself to dance lessons with Devil, Maven, and Mycologist
And everyone clapped! ... No? Just me?
Exchanging notes for scrap with the Mechanic
Greeting the Sub and Maven checking in
Lecture:
A change of perspective?
Fire! In The Classroom (ft. Devil and Mechanic) (Don't try this at home!)
Activity:
This is easy! ...says the one who, uh, didn't actually end up finishing it. Oops
After Class:
Letting a "secret" slip (monster hunting debacle setup)
Dancing plans
Week 1 Threads
Jun. 23rd, 2025 11:16 pmSign In:
Sign In
Before Class:
Meeting the Pupil
Bothering the Tailor
Questionable food choices ft. the Maven's well-meaning advice
Class has Begun:
Tormenting the Devil
Impressions of Maven
4-word sentences and subsequent soaking
Making a fool of themself in front of Thursday
After Class:
In the closet with the Tailor
Sign In
Before Class:
Meeting the Pupil
Bothering the Tailor
Questionable food choices ft. the Maven's well-meaning advice
Class has Begun:
Tormenting the Devil
Impressions of Maven
4-word sentences and subsequent soaking
Making a fool of themself in front of Thursday
After Class:
In the closet with the Tailor
Name: The Lied Piper
Pronouns: They/Them
Species: Human
Age: Late twenties
Appearance: Short, wiry, with short spiked hair that sticks up at the top and the sides. The plague doctor half-mask stays ON.
About: The Lied Piper got their title after running a series of cons with a Rattus Faber band, which eventually ended when the band sold them out and landed them in New Newgate Prison. Since then, their relationship with the rats has been complicated, though they do still tend to spend as much time with rats as humans. Their current best friend-slash-roommate is Charlie, the Disgraced Rattus Faber Bandit-Chief who once invaded their lair in the marshes. Their ambition is Bag a Legend!
Personality: Rarely taking things seriously, the Piper tends to throw themselves into situations without much thought or preparation, often to limited success. They do tend to learn from their mistakes, though, and don't take any losses too personally. They enjoy bad music, monster hunting, gardening, dueling, and being mildly annoying.
Reason for joining this class: The Piper would like to incorporate the Correspondence into their music. Uh, "music." They're excited to find out if the gossip about people's hair catching on fire is true, and to what extent they can harness that power for fun and profit.
Player: Taliax (most people call me Tali). You can find me on ao3, tumblr, and neocities. I like writing goofballs, watercoloring, playing the same video game 12000 times, and posting cringe. <3 I'm just here to have a good time and make friends!
Oh and I forgot to add my fallen london profile. I'm also Taliax on there. Open to Discord messages too as *kazoo noises* / kazoonoises. (I get tripped up by discord I never know anymore which version of the username works so. Yeah)
Pronouns: They/Them
Species: Human
Age: Late twenties
Appearance: Short, wiry, with short spiked hair that sticks up at the top and the sides. The plague doctor half-mask stays ON.
About: The Lied Piper got their title after running a series of cons with a Rattus Faber band, which eventually ended when the band sold them out and landed them in New Newgate Prison. Since then, their relationship with the rats has been complicated, though they do still tend to spend as much time with rats as humans. Their current best friend-slash-roommate is Charlie, the Disgraced Rattus Faber Bandit-Chief who once invaded their lair in the marshes. Their ambition is Bag a Legend!
Personality: Rarely taking things seriously, the Piper tends to throw themselves into situations without much thought or preparation, often to limited success. They do tend to learn from their mistakes, though, and don't take any losses too personally. They enjoy bad music, monster hunting, gardening, dueling, and being mildly annoying.
Reason for joining this class: The Piper would like to incorporate the Correspondence into their music. Uh, "music." They're excited to find out if the gossip about people's hair catching on fire is true, and to what extent they can harness that power for fun and profit.
Player: Taliax (most people call me Tali). You can find me on ao3, tumblr, and neocities. I like writing goofballs, watercoloring, playing the same video game 12000 times, and posting cringe. <3 I'm just here to have a good time and make friends!
Oh and I forgot to add my fallen london profile. I'm also Taliax on there. Open to Discord messages too as *kazoo noises* / kazoonoises. (I get tripped up by discord I never know anymore which version of the username works so. Yeah)
