Some may have heard my voice over the radio and journal recently, or, well, I don't know, perhaps you didn't or chose to ignore it, it wouldn't be for the first time honestly, and in that case I will actually say well done to you for taking no notice on that occasion, that was very much the best thing you could have ever done. As for what I appeared to say and for what I appeared to do... I could never and I am very sorry.

[Filter: Those that encountered the Mara.]
I have spoken with many of you already but of those where we've just missed each other... Please, I want to check that you are all right and to make my apologies and gratitude in person.

[Filter: Felix.]
How are you doing? I-- If I could have a little of your time, may we talk?

[Filter: Lady Galadriel.]
If you are available, may we speak, please?


Things have been quite... Busy, in the castle so far this year, haven't they? Not that busy is the best word to use. Frenetic, disjointed, lots of smaller things happening, isolated mostly, like squalls, touching or affecting just a few of us at a time or more, for a day, two, and longer. Residents with lost memories or other afflictions, monsters in the upper halls, rooms decorated at a whim, dragons in the dining room. Add them all up, mark them down, there's no pattern to discern so far, just random pockets of activity and where does that lead us?

[Or what follows a squall? The castle makes him feel restless sometimes. He feels restless now and yet it's not so simple a feeling to define.]

[Filter: Tenth Doctor.]
Do you have a moment?


[What do you do when it's that time in the afternoon and your mind is preoccupied? You make tea, of course. Except the Doctor doesn't tend to do things by half, especially when tea making becomes Olympic Tea Making and it is looking like he may very well take the gold.

The forty-cup tea urn is out, a beautiful, blessed machine, stoked with hot water enough for, well, we shouldn't have to say just how many cups at this point, should we? On the counter next to that are a myriad of cups, mugs, saucers, delicate china tea receptacles painted exquisitely, gaudy large and kitsch mugs with all sorts of designs and what-not twisted jokily as the handles. If anyone was guessing, yes, he did empty the cupboards looking for everything and anything that would hold that such oriental and noxious fluid known as tea.

At the other side of the tea urn, this is where the real magic is happening. The Doctor is actually blending tea. He's taken down everything and all he can find, flavours and strengths from far and wide, a little bit this of, a small pinch of that, just a dash of that one there, tea perfectly tailored for an individual.

And then there's that moment when he takes stock of what he has accomplished and the kitchen counter doesn't look that far away from pleasing John Adams for how much of a mess he has made.]


Er... Would anyone like any tea?


[After all the writing of filters, after all the tea making, there's still room for one more. What does he have to lose? Or what is he trying to prove? Nothing.]

[Filter: Crowley.]
Hello. ... I think I invited you for tea, once, and never actually made good on that. Well, there's some here, if you'd like.


[[ooc: Wide open for journal or action and those that just want to say Hi or have tea. :) ]]