Waking time for the CIA--last call.

This is a tribunal for the director of the CIA

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Albert II of England <[email protected]>

9:17 PM (4 minutes ago)

to people, secretary, troops, Anamargarita, people, people, secretary, austin, presidente, earthcentralcommand, attorney_general, attorney_general, Mattis, secretary, president, president, lordspeaker, lordspeaker, anamargarita_gonzalez, anamargarita.england, troops, troops, theyard, troops, troops, lloronadelcaos

21:08 hours, 25.Sep.2022

McKinleyville Earth Central Airport

Generals, troops, Your Honors,

I am still cleaning up the multitude of messes made by the betrayal of the USA's government and people by ambient sound junkies.

They are still harassing me at 100% capacity, just like when they proclaimed themselves anti-American terrorists.

Saturn: "Director Burns, please state your full name and status".

... Generals... I'm getting back to work. The President should resign.

--General McKee

Humboldt (camping at Clam Beach for a few nights; now at McKinleyville Earth Central Airport).

Coronavirus Summary

The People of Planet Earth 05:12 (0 minutes ago) to The, pontiff, god, duke, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, lordspeaker, people, lordspeaker, attorney_general, governor, emperialsenate, secretary, secretary, secretary, ren, Vladimir_putin, press, press, press, [email protected], press, press, troops, troops, troops, troops, press, press, press, The, me The Confederuh... DNC: "We tortured and exploited THE FUCK ouf of one person as the basis of this country, and now we don't know what to do with him... we don't want to torture or exploit people any more." Coronavirus, related to The Inferno, as a communications problem was described accurately thus: A mission of all people on Earth to LEARN NOT TO exploit, torture, or hurt each other; and, a total purge of molestation-culture from human society. A distorted-media-industry cover for the hostage status through threat, the regular, illegal incarceration of, the torture inflicted upon, the telecommunications fraud, the identity theft, and the assassinations attempted on Albert Theodore (Tristan) McKee (the Christian-English King of Israel, Saturn), Robert Jamerson (The General; The Pharoah), and Anamargarita Gonzalez (God, first in command of England and its languages), and Angelica Avila (from which many legends sprung) The common cold and flu blended with a tendency of some to tear up upon learning the truth blended with a reaction to exhaust blended with a divergence between people who look badass like the Shining Path in masks and those who wear them to conceal their identities because they were famous but now seemed to be stalking poor or homeless people in Humboldt. "We just didn't want him to read the Bible in the public square because then they would know that he is Satan, and Satan is a good person, and the whole fraud would fall apart." "I just wanted to fuck him with a broomstick until he made me God" (aka., the Israel-Holy-See Peace Accord). Love y'all.--Lord Satan McKee, Messiah of RomeHumboldt, CA, USA, England (indeed driven out of my CA Unter-Unter n/a museum because I chose it over Buckingham Palace too many times)[email protected]

❧ @lordspeaker

Orianna, in search of some calm among the more erratic festivities, has ventured into the Cotes Ward. 

Drawn to the foot traffic around the lake, she spends her evening there. As the sun sets, she visits one of the candle-lighting ceremony’s officiators and purchases two candle rafts. It has been far and away since she’s lost anyone, but still thinks her well-wishes may do them some good.

The first one is for her father, who she hopes is doing well back home. The second one is addressed to Seven; she brings it to the water’s edge, complete with a lollipop to send along. Maybe she is a bit too sentimental over a friend from so long ago, but she does miss him.

She’s a bit early, so she decides to wait a bit longer for more people to show up. She doesn’t want to get ahead of herself.

in the cold winds of the winter morning, he was summoned to the almost vacant ruin as are wing-torn moths to the flickering flames of candlelight. how congregations desperate for their truth flock to the feet of some grand, holy speaker. he cannot help it; he was always drawn to strength as if his soul was gravitating towards whatever he could use, whatever could become part of his seemingly endless arsenal. 

some time had passed since the disturbance in cotes. perhaps a week, he could not be sure. time was not in his best interests, at least nothing beyond the mark of the sun within the heavens and the freckling of stars in that sun’s momentary absence. but, he sensed that same strength. as if standing far too close to a river of molten, running lava, the heat washed over him and he could not deny its warmth. 

it had led him there, down between the border of cotes and golden, betwixt two visually appealing places as per the opinions of the masses, at least. caught within walls, sephiroth understood that this brand of freedom was truly just that; a figment of imagination for all whom wished to believe it. though most of the island was constructed and not at all broken and abandoned, there were pieces that were reminiscent of midgar and its frailty. homes left empty, coated with a layer of dust but otherwise untouched. there were churches, graveyards seemingly devoid of tombs, gardens left to overgrow thus nature commanded her space. 

but it was there, as snow had begun to litter the broken brick of a misplaced chapel, that sephiroth happened upon aymeric de borel. 

far taller than most he had met, the almost ethereal stranger occupying the snow-glazed venue was difficult to miss. he stood out, as the moon ought even on a night laden with heavy, dark clouds. as sephiroth approached, his shadow grew to swallow the stranger whole, his clothing darkened by the grey which sought to envelope him despite the difference in their heights. he waited, just for a moment, before tearing through that ambient silence with the low and patient roll of his voice. 

“ i have spent a lifetime familiar with death; you reek of it. “ 

he paused. the winds whistled a haunting, chilling tone and then the son of jenova moved. he took to walking around the back of the stranger, only to stand before him, where the thin trails of light through the broken mosaic glass painted him holier than it seemed possible. an omen of death, his single wing shrouded in the shade of night folded, as he crossed his arms before his chest. upon the freshly fallen snow a few black feathers nestled but nothing else stirred. the stranger, a delicate face framed by curls of rich black, was certainly one to remember. so unlike the many human faces he had encountered, this other was perhaps what many would consider beautiful.

“ and that lingering power; you know of a great strength. " that voice was almost silky, were it not for the domination even that low, brief bout could project. when he spoke, it always felt so arranged, so perfectly crafted, and as he spoke to the tall stranger, clad in his robes of foreign finery, those words continued to be so. “ tell me, does standing here alone in this broken place of worship comfort you? “╱ ╱   —  @lordspeaker  ☼ ” 

The cab was coming to a stop much earlier than she had anticipated; they were still very much in the city, another taller figure standing outside. Of course this was bound to happen. Out of common courtesy she shuffled herself to the side more, gym bag now clutched tightly by the straps in her lap. 

Cold air hit her as the other person got in, and Ana withdrew into herself a bit reflexively at the temperature change. She peered over the seam of her hood to them; she wasn’t familiar with them in the slightest. Which would be a relief, but--

There’s likely those in positions of power who have henchmen you’ve never seen ready to take you down. Can he really be trusted?

“Sorry, I hopefully won’t be here long. Don’t mind me.”

@lordspeaker

@lordspeaker

     She was honestly rather unsure of how to broach the topic. Even approaching Aymeric, a man she had never formally known back in Ishgard, seemed rather out of place for her to do, let alone bringing up her concerns. Yet she knew no better party to parley with, as he seemed to be the one person she knew that Yotsuyu let in even by the smallest of margins. That didn’t exactly inspire much hope, but hope she must for her concerns grew out of hand, and worrying did her not an ounce of good. And, well... she couldn’t very well ask Yotsuyu herself. 

     No, by now Ysayle had learned that Yotsuyu was far from being particularly keen on divulging her stories and secrets to Ysayle. She could pry through her memories if she truly wished, but that she wished not. Often were her visions a curse as much as a gift- and mostly they were involuntary. To use them at will, when she could force such an occurrence- well it was simply disrespectful. She cared to respect Yotsuyu, as much as she could. She’d had enough visions of her life already, seeing her transformation, her pain, and flashes of a rather testy, unpleasant looking boy. 

     Asking Aymeric seemed her best option, the only option that she was willing to utilize at this time. She’d used her phone, asked him to her house for tea under some pretense or another- she hadn’t particularly cared what he believed, so long as he agreed. So when he arrived, and she let him in to then swiftly lead him to the dining room, picking up the tea kettle on the way, she didn’t make use of much formality. He was already here. No, she rather poured two teacups out for the two of them and spoke once she had passed his cup over.

     “I thank you for entertaining my request, Ser Aymeric, but I see little purpose in dancing around why I asked you here. Yotsuyu. You seem to know her better than anyone, while I’ve had maybe an inch of luck getting to know her at all. Something is wrong with her, she seems rather out of sorts and not herself. Tell me what, if you may.”

@lordspeaker​

liked for a starter

He didn’t normally drink. A bit of an aversion to the hobby - if it could be called as such - preferring to prioritize his health. He was a soldier, after all. What good was he inebriated?

Yet it was common courtesy to offer something in return for a good deed done. A favor to return, as Liquid thought it, keeping the playing field level. Being indebted to another didn’t suit him. So, when he and the dark-haired man ended up seated next to one another at the bar, immediately following an altercation expertly diffused by the other involving the blond himself,

Liquid offered him a drink.

“The least I can do,” Liquid says in a low voice, sliding one of two glasses of whiskey toward the other. “Whiskey, if you don’t mind it. And if you do, then feel free to choose something else, on me.”

@lordspeaker

While the idea of sitting idly in these conditions was a nice prospect, he wanted to know what he was dealing with. If he couldn’t shift, he probably couldn’t get out of here easily anyway.....and so Vlad was out in the wreckage. He took care to position himself a reasonable distance from a safe zone--but not too close. Being seen outside the wall may raise suspicion, or attract more noble-minded individuals to return him to his post. He’d seen it happen many a time already. 

The light from the pillar was considerably less bright, but still reaching so far as to stain where he was in its light. He ducked behind some rubble, watching the ebb and flow of waves of monsters, and the people who sprang forth to fight them. There was a lot he didn’t recognize....but there was something sort of comfort that would show out of a fighter, a move that felt almost effortless. 

He couldn’t ruminate too hard on what that was as he heard a heavy noise nearby, causing him to jump slightly. It wasn’t until the sound of footsteps that he slumped down onto the floor and nervously glanced around as if he had no powers on which to defend himself with.

He held up a hand, turning away, the other planted on the wall. “Please, if you have any business with looting, you have the wrong man. I have nothing to offer you...”

name: aymeric de borel

age: thirty-four

Position: class 六

why you would be a good fit: i have been pursuing such studies independently for some time with the aid of allies within hive city, and would be glad indeed to share such findings on a symbiotic basis.

“Considering I practically live at work, you’re more than welcome to swing by my ‘office’ whenever you want and share your material with us.”

Gold eyes were tuned on his audience; a lone draconic man who certainly held himself with a professional air, despite not knowing him. The sound of chatter and music was distant; Xemnas never much one for a social battery but apparently, he had business to attend to yet.

“What brings you here? Can I be of...assistance in some form?” Crocodile’s hospitality was complimented with a small bow and a hand outstretched in flourish accordingly. The vampire didn’t seem particularly keen on breaking his gaze, eyes still assessing the ...Draken? 

@lordspeaker; event sc.

lordspeaker replied to your post: “I cant be a twink and taller than a not twink,”

i fail to understand how purely semantic details might change the categorization so profoundly.

You Are A Twink

He lifts Aymeric up effortlessly, tossing him up in the air a few feet for good measure. He doesn’t seem winded at all by this, actually.

“Are you sure.”

Old Guard: thank you all for peace on Earth

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The People of Planet Earth <[email protected]>

04:20 (0 minutes ago)

to The, pontiff, god, duke, me, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, people, lordspeaker, people, lordspeaker, attorney_general, governor, emperialsenate, secretary, secretary, secretary, ren, Vladimir_putin, press, press, press, [email protected], press, press, troops, troops, troops, troops, press, press, press, The

Masons are carvers of stone, once enslaved. I am not one, and I don't know how to fly but the airforces, the church, England, and the masons were targeted for scattering by my former enemies because all are crucial in the maintenance of a long-term system of good and legitimacy that backs up our representative democracies and other countries.

I remain bound by choice and morals to my commitment, as Lord Saturn, to remaining in slavery and being ready to fight for the freedom of the masons should anyone ever try to enslave them again, and I extend this commitment to all people on Earth.

Bless you all.

Con amor,

--Albert II (Tristan McKee) of England

Humboldt, CA, USA, England

(if you need to reach me by phone, my ex-wife's number at T-Mobile is 209-233-4930).

➻ @lordspeaker

fenris has come to the temporary culinary stalls set along the star trail in search of simpler pleasures. food from the free marches isn’t particularly memorable, and so the possibility of a stall from home doesn’t quite pique his interest. instead, he is on the hunt for any one carrying fruit among their offerings. 

he thinks that it may be a bit indulgent of him, but he hasn’t had fresh fruit in a while. apples are his long-standing favorite.

attendees are sparse, so one individual stands out as familiar. it’s hazy, but the warrior recalls the old conflict, and the aid of an elvhen stranger.

❝ forgive me if i am wrong, ❞ he starts, ❝ but i believe we’ve met once before. it appears that whoever takes people from beyond is not finished with me yet. ❞

AESTHETIC MOODBOARD > @lordspeaker

✿ for a general moodboard about my muse

blows a kiss..to aymeric... he’s such a great character i don’t think i know ANYONE that dislikes him, probably because it’s impossible to hate him he’s awesome. your aymeric love and appreciation is valid and you do a great job at writing him, i’m glad we get to experience your aymericness here in isola!

@lordspeaker

She had cast a stray gaze and suddenly a group of monsters in her wake was petrified. Ah, so it was back.She shifted her gaze to the ground; she was sure she could summon up gorgon breaker and seal her sight again. She wasn’t sure if that was the right plan of action, though.

Her senses were unclouded--she could see magical signatures and with much more clarity than she had just prior. That helped considerably. Medusa could worry about looking at things only when absolutely necessary. 

There were so many signatures, however, that it was getting particularly hard to steer like this, she shot her gaze up out of desperation, petrifying more monsters in the process, only just then catching a signature in the periphery.

She stayed still, and the signature didn’t seem to move either, but it didn’t hold the mark of her mystic eyes on it yet.

“Don’t move,” She said low, hushed, but with piercing clarity. 

"not all good people are innocent."

SHORT STORIES, MY FAVORITE KIND OF POETRY (not accepting)

     “Few are.” She knew well the innocence she lacked-- it was not a luxury she had ever been afforded. Even in her youth had she been plagued with memories not her own, a knowledge of grief and suffering well beyond her years. But as she grew older, that lack of innocence became a more active choice. The things she had done...

     No. Not right now. If she kept dwelling, she would only drown.

     “That is to say that a mixture of morals is far more normal that the masses may care to acknowledge. Still... it is no comfort to me. I have regrets beyond what most can claim.” With a shake of her head, she met Aymeric’s gaze. “While even the most noble of individuals may know shame and remorse, their actions cannot rival my own. Certainly not yours.”