Houston...

... we have a problem.

*shoos alligators off of landing strip*

No, actually, I have a problem. I cannot currently upload pictures to the Internet from my laptop, or the Internet browser crashes. I do not know why I am having this problem, or how to stop having it, but until I get it figured out, I will have to find time to post from my mom's computer. Ugh. Such a pain.

This makes me sad, because I have drawrings for you. But I guess they'll have to wait. Meanwhile, working furiously on OYAN stuff! Writing like mad, putting costumes together, etc. In absence of pictures, perhaps you'd like an excerpt?

I reentered the cupboard and reached down into the tunnel, feeling the unwelcome heat pass close to my palm. Gripping the cloth-wrapped handle, I raised the torch out of the hole, keeping the flame well away from my body. Luca wriggled up beside me. A bit of dirt tumbled out of his spiky hair. “Well? Is there anything here?”

I ignored him, examining the cupboard walls by the wavering light of the torch. Many, many sharp things. Knives. Saws. Meathooks. Several pairs of shears. Drills. Long, thick nails, like the ones used by the Rumeni to stake down their tents in the summer. Every blade shone clean and silver in the torchlight. For a moment, I entertained the notion of taking one of the knives to replace my confiscated dagger. But they looked too long, the blades too wide or too curved, to fit in my sheath. I squashed down a shiver of discomfort and exited the cupboard.

The dim pool of light fell upon a low trestle table a few yards away. Very long, extending past the reach of the torch. Thick, dark wood. I approached it with caution, hearing Luca’s short breaths close behind me. The tabletop gleamed, polished from countless scrubbings. The smooth, shining surface broken only by the occasional gouge, scratch, or scar. Here and there, an irregular glint-gold stain.

Gold?

Memoria’s blood, a fine golden mist. Staining Fabello’s white shirt. Gold.

“Luca,” I said, low and even, “go back to the tunnel.”

“Why?”

His voice rang in the vast stone chamber, too loud, too high. “Go back to the tunnel,” I repeated. “Now.”

There. Satisfied? Even if not, that's all I can give you at the moment. *sings quietly to self* Se-cret-laboratory... se-cret-laboratory... through the mountain... se-cret-laboratory...

Oh oh oh, and I finally saw the new Star Trek and HOLY CRAP IT WAS AWESOME. Now I'm so glad I watched Wrath of Kahn with my parents all those years ago so I got the references. Now I need to watch Wrath of Kahn again. And then Into Darkness again. So I can drool over Kahnberbatch some more. GOD THAT MAN IS HOT. But anyway. Now every time I hear him talk, all I can think is Angel Islington. Oh well.

Also, I got some new boots. To replace the ones that exploded. And they are pretty sweeeeet.

Commander Kip
"Whoa, are you guys fighting?" "I don't want to talk about it." "What is that even like?"
Normal is overrated!