if any of you have been closely following this blog, you probably know that i’ve been having some problems with redirection and viruses

i haven’t been able to permanently stop it, even by getting rid of the code

so, i’ve decided to move blogs

i’m not going to delete this one, but it probably won’t be updated any longer

http://plaiddragon.tumblr.com/

my new fallen london blog is here, if anyone’s interested

Dizzy and dissolute
The experience may have been too much for you. You can’t remember exactly what happened. Did you faint? Behave in an unbefitting manner? What is that peculiar taste in your mouth? Were you drugged? One of Mr Wines’ burliest henchmen escorts you, swaying, from the premises. There are no refunds.

A treacherous kiss…
Your lips tingle. You feel dizzy. This is even better than you thought it would be! Oh, but, hold on… Numbness is spreading… Stars whirl before your eyes. As your head hits the ground, your last thought is the realisation that someone paid Jenny to poison her lipstick. But why?

Black ink on black card
The very blackest of ink. You puzzle over it for an hour until the candle flutters out. In uttermost darkness, it is suddenly perfectly legible. The message reads only, ‘NORTH.’ Below, where one might find a signature under other circumstances, smaller script informs you that there will be a reckoning. You shiver, and get up to raid the larder. Suddenly you’re terribly hungry.

She practically snatches it from your hands. “Is this - yes! A second printing!” She whistles. “There were four, you know. The first was only eleven copies. The printing was peligin ink - so most of them have been devoured, or made nests of.

"The second was barely off the press when the factory burned to the ground. The third printing had several faulty plates, and key poems were lost. Then this tradition with the tears began, and claimed most of the final printing."

She turns the pages carefully. “It’s not so much the poems, you understand. Although they’re occasionally relevant. It’s the water-marks.” She holds a page up to a nearby gas-lamp. Faintly, mostly obscured by the smudged ink, you can see the outline of a Correspondence-sign worked into the paper.