Don't worry

I'll be back :)

An Evening Flight (July 20)

Star smiled as New Babbage rolled away from the the stern of her airship, The Ulysses. The steady, soothing thrum of the engines was already doing wonders to improve the foul mood that had settled onto her of late. She checked her gauges, satisfied that the airbag was tight-full and put a clamp on the steering column, charting a course out over the deep ocean. She thought she might visit her family in England, how long had it been since she had seen her brother? Or visited her husband's grave?

She moved back through the small ship with a smile, double-checking the hatches and ensuring everything was stowed in case of foul weather.

She was certain this was going to be a marvelous trip.

((OOC: Stargirl's typist is going to be seeking a look at the wilder parts of the world. She will return, eh, in a few weeks (three-ish). She'll miss you all terribly and looks forward to reading about everyone's adventures while she was absent.))

Journal July 2

Journal,

Am I my Clockwinder’s keeper? Goodness, according to most it would seem that I am. Though I’ve not laid eyes on the chap in some time, I have heard the rather disturbing news that his Thursday games with Mr. Underby continue, and that he was indeed seen helping to renovate Mr. Underby’s new piece of property (and I could swear that Mr. Tenk had once said he’d never allow Mr. Underby to own land inside New Babbage!). No good could possibly come of this.

Yet, the reason I haven’t leapt into action and taken to haunting his doorstep is quite simple: the man, the few times I have laid eyes on him, has been more than polite. He’s even offered assistance the one or two times I’ve been caught unawares at the pub and he’s, evidently, had a bit of a chat with the misses, as she’s become suddenly tolerable of late. She’s even allowed Pocket back into her bakery (though, as Maggie grumbled, or rather, as Maggie shrieked in frustration, no good will come of that).

I am sorry that my two bartenders have announced their intention to leave my employment and seek adventure in America. I am caught up in a bit of envy myself, as I’ve had the constant urge to take to the skies (fueled, no doubt, by my complete inability to sleep properly of late, as those peculiar sounds I keep hearing are continually keeping me up at night). But with the Gangplank having been open barely two-months since the fire, and the loss of two employees, I can hardly justify the sudden absence for any length of time that would make taking to the skies a reasonable option. Something truly spectacular would have to draw me away from the city at this point.

I have, at last, laid eyes on the peculiar Mr. Slenderman (as I believe I’ve heard him called). As expected a creature which goes about attempting to possess others had very little interest in me. I was surprised to see it in Clockhaven, given the, ahem, troubles which affect most spirits there. Still, It has been known for its ghosts (there’s a resident one just down the way, in fact), and I suppose Mr. Slenderman is hardly a man, per-se, but some sort of creature. Naturally, I feigned total ignorance as to its nature and kicked myself inwardly for not having gone to find the creature before it arrived on my doorstep!

I told them all I thought it was a new sort of kraken. See? Even when completely exhausted I am still capable of a good joke.

Unfortunately, no one was laughing.

Ah, well. I think I hear some rustling downstairs, must be the first of the evening patrons. I’d bet attend to them now.

~S. MacB.