Up the carriage goes, north through Veilgarden, to Heartscross Hill, past the cemetery. Mr Sacks sits silently all the while, its hood turned to the window. It scribbles absently in a notebook with its left hand. The hand is gloved: but its fingers seem too numerous and much too slender.
The carriage comes to a halt at the summit of the hill. The Neath roof is deep black above, pricked with blue-green light. All around you, London glimmers red and gas-blue.
Mr Sacks hands you a note. It reads: THERE IS MORE THAN ONE GREAT GAME. LET NONE OF US BE CHESSMEN. BE CAREFUL WHO YOU ARE. DO NOT TRUST THE BAZAAR. I HAVE NOT WRITTEN THIS NOTE.
It waits until you've read it, and then tears it into tiny pieces. As the carriage returns through the streets to your lodgings, it drops the pieces out of the window, one at a time.
Your rooms have been searched. The searchers have been careful, but thorough; little is disordered, but they've been through every drawer and cupboard: examined every journal, manuscript and bill. Nothing is broken. Nothing is untouched.
December 31st, 1899 was followed by January 1st, 1899 – with the intention that this second attempt at the year will be even better. god it's just. yeah. yeah let's do 2019 over again and pretend 2020 never happened (or 21)
also if you have a higher profession, after its paranoia rant sacks-iron gives you a note that just says DISAPPOINTED and it's really funny. this bitch hates the bazaar so much it's mad at you for having a job.
I would fucking love a higher profession and it's just never happened but also lord that's iron? I don't know them well enough to be able to distinguish half of them by hint yet
"Messages are sacred, did you know that? It is against the highest laws of the – the highest laws – for a messenger to write its own messages. That is why the stories should be true. Do you understand my meaning? Whether you do or not – please – be true in love, if nowhere else."
look mostly I've used feast of the rose to gain cash money bc I don't get much in the way of shit otherwise but I have gotten to advance this plotline and I'm like
no thank you mr eatenUp the carriage goes, north through Veilgarden, to Heartscross Hill, past the cemetery. Mr Sacks sits silently all the while, its hood turned to the window. It scribbles absently in a notebook with its left hand. The hand is gloved: but its fingers seem too numerous and much too slender.You sneak a peek at the notebook. The script is upside-down, and not quite Aramaic.The carriage comes to a halt at the summit of the hill. The Neath roof is deep black above, pricked with blue-green light. All around you, London glimmers red and gas-blue.Mr Sacks hands you a note. It reads: THERE IS MORE THAN ONE GREAT GAME. LET NONE OF US BE CHESSMEN. BE CAREFUL WHO YOU ARE. DO NOT TRUST THE BAZAAR. I HAVE NOT WRITTEN THIS NOTE.It waits until you've read it, and then tears it into tiny pieces. As the carriage returns through the streets to your lodgings, it drops the pieces out of the window, one at a time.Your rooms have been searched. The searchers have been careful, but thorough; little is disordered, but they've been through every drawer and cupboard: examined every journal, manuscript and bill. Nothing is broken. Nothing is untouched.Connected: The Masters of the Bazaar has increased to 2 - Your Name is Known!and that's alarming, but to be expectedBy the Empress' decree, the year of 1900 is cancelled.yeah sounds about rightDecember 31st, 1899 was followed by January 1st, 1899 – with the intention that this second attempt at the year will be even better.god it's just. yeah. yeah let's do 2019 over again and pretend 2020 never happened (or 21)"Messages are sacred, did you know that? It is against the highest laws of the – the highest laws – for a messenger to write its own messages. That is why the stories should be true. Do you understand my meaning? Whether you do or not – please – be true in love, if nowhere else."