A Holiday Card for Fallen London


… and Fallen Londoners, my brothers, sisters, and [genderdescription]s all.

For Celebration

Now is the time to free the heart,
Let all intentions and worries stop,
Free the joy inside the self,
Awaken to the wonder of your life.

Open your eyes and see the friends
Whose hearts recgonize your face as kin,
Those whose kindness watchful and near,
Encourages you to live everything here.

See the gifts the years have given,
Things your effort could never earn,
The health to enjoy who you want to be
And the mind to mirror — mystery.

–Fr. John O’Donohue


It’s Official.

The offer from the agent came through this afternoon. It will take some time to do the renovations and remodeling, but I’ve the lease for the premises in my hot little hands at last.

Cl0ckw0rkings, Uptown

The Masque of All Souls on November 1st will be the last salon held here at the original Cl0ckw0rkings, my friends. It’s the end of one era, but the start of a newer, and much happier one.

Do please come celebrate with us, won’t you?

The Way is No Longer Shut

At last, at last there is word. Something is happening at that small, nondescript house neat Wolfstack Docks. No one is certain quite what is occurring, but all agree the constables are providing the same time frame.

Two weeks, or thereabouts. Two weeks.

There is much yet to be done. All thoughts of relocating my household are gone. I must see to Feducci, regardless.  I must settle things at Court, and it is a mark of my impatience with that place that I would much rather face Feducci. My guest lecture courses at Summerset must be concluded.

I have not, however, stopped playing cards. My skills are as sharp as ever — I have not lost a game in… months.

There are no guarantees. I ask for none. The way is no longer shut. I will be able to move forward. Again soon. No more diversions. No more distractions.

Nicholas… I’m coming, darlingas quickly as ever I can…

The New Tea Room

The Bazaar is aflutter with speculation about the Masters and their names… and of the unfortunate Mr. Eaten, of course. If you’d like, feel free to discuss it here.

A Debate over Chess

Two guest lecturers from Benthic and Summerset were in Tyrant’s park yesterday picking over a game of chess and a decanter of wine. I paused to watch, and was privileged to overhear a rather remarkable ethical debate unfold…

CreazilRadioEBZ: The path of discovery and knowledge lies with #Benthic, friend. Summerset seems to use them as a means to an end. We’ve been holding quiet seminars for months already. Isn’t it time to teach openly without the Ministry’s censure?

awakeasaurusrex: Devils surround you, #Benthic gladly endorses the sale of souls, and yet you speak to *me* of “means to an end”? Pah!

CreazilRadioEBZ: The soul is only needed for appreciation of beauty, and it’s removal is often helpful to academic research.

awakeasaurusrex: Just because the full function of the soul hasn’t been discovered doesn’t mean it can be freely disposed of. I mean, we haven’t identified the function of most of the human brain. But you wouldn’t sell bits of your brain to Hell.

CreazilRadioEBZ: to quote an expert in matters of commerce: RT @Mr_Wines: @CreazilRadioEBZ Everything has a price. Most especially yourself.

awakeasaurusrex: My soul is unique, no other can substitute for it;thus,it is infinitely more valuable to me than it is to anyone else! It follows that nobody could possibly offer me a price for my soul equal to its unique value to me!

CreazilRadioEBZ: Consent and compensation are not staples of the spirifer’s trade. Why not collect some brass for it while you can? Just as Sorrow spiders don’t offer you an exchange value of silk for your eye. See opportunity for what it is.

awakeasaurusrex: Do you propose to sell an eye to a spider-council, pay tithes to robbers, send a tribute of limbs to Jack? The fact that one might be robbed tomorrow should not prevent one enjoying one’s property today.

CreazilRadioEBZ: If only they had the business sense, the profit that we could make. Most folk have two good eyes and a need for cash.

awakeasaurusrex: Your eagerness to diminish the perception of depth and muddy the clarity of sight is a microcosm of #Benthic itself.

CreazilRadioEBZ: We accede that your Sense of arbitrary moral superiority at having a soul is something we could never put a price on.

awakeasaurusrex: We concede that soullessness is practically a requirement of the radio host’s job these days.

CreazilRadioEBZ: And your ad hominum attacks are the pinnacle of the Summerset’s prowess in political debate.

awakeasaurusrex: Sometimes it must be said that the Emperor has no clothes, the Professor has no soul, and the Devil has taken both. Speaking of despoiled Emperors… *indicates chessboard* …checkmate, my friend.

CreazilRadioEBZ: That victory, at least, we’ll hand you fair and square.

Permission to publish was granted by both participants in the conversation.

Notes on a Page

Notes on a journey

Heart’s Desire – the Topsy King

This is the address you’ve been given for Cora Bagley: a neat brick house in a street beside a little fungal park. Lights blaze in every window. Special Constables, the strong arm of the Ministry of Public Decency, stand watch front and back.

[This is the end of the road, but only for now. Heart’s Desire! will continue when Book 2 Part 2 opens.

I… feel as if I’ve been kicked in the chest by a horse. I cannot… cannot draw breath… to have come so far, to have endured so much and forsaken so much more… only to be told it ends here, even if only temporarily… that I must wait again, wait some more, wait and wait and WAIT as I have waited for two endless years, now…!

Perhaps God truly did forsake me when I moved to within sight of Hell; can He have heard my prayers at all?

oh Nicholas… dear one… pray be patient… I’m coming as quickly as I can…!

A Close Encounter of the Unpleasant Kind

Special Constables. I just received a visit from the Special Constables.

Please do pardon me a moment while I give a somewhat unladylike “hmph!”

Betray my friend who is a consummate connoisseur of literary works? Betray him to the special constables under threat of being held under Suspicion as a “person of interest?”

They threatened me. With crooked teeth and bad breath, no less. They wrote down my name, as if that should have intimidated me into immediate compliance. I don’t believe I’ve ever been so offended. And I do mean EVER.

As if I didn’t have contingencies in place to deal with bullies from ALL sides of the game board, here in Fallen London! They hadn’t crossed the street before any “suspicion” they thought to cast on my name was made completely irrelevant.

I believe I’m going to play around in Spite, just to get that bad taste out of my mouth.

Foolish, arrogant bullies with badges. Fallen London USED to be a relatively decent place to live!

Test No. 2

It appears there are at least two ways to use this device. Neither appears to be entirely satisfactory.

Back to the drawing board, I think…