cheerhealer: (piece of me.)
[personal profile] cheerhealer
What did you do to him, Sylar? [ Not even bothering to private it. She sounds absolutely, positively livid. ]

Where is he? 
cheerhealer: (Default)
[personal profile] cheerhealer
Sylar has his collar off. If you see him on the streets, run. Fighting against him is useless unless you can cut his head off.

He can regenerate now. [ Blood is smeared on her face and on the little Pomeranian in her arms, mixed in with dried tears. She shuts the feed off immediately after that little PSA. ]

private to peter ; extremely difficult to hack )

private to loki ; moderately difficult to hack )

[ OOC: replies to the public post will likely come after a few hours ICly. ]
cheerhealer: (i believe you can fly)
[personal profile] cheerhealer
[ The feed begins with a birds eye view of a small living room, laminated wooden flooring and very sparse furniture. In a corner is a stuffed manatee (one of two stuffed animals she had gotten for Christmas) laying on the bottom of a floor lamp. A young woman appears in the feed, hair thrown up in a casual ponytail. On the couch is a large pile of clothing.

She's humming something as she brings in a large load of laundry in a basket in her arms. Perhaps it's a familiar tune. She sets the basket on the ground and picks up a cardigan. ]

99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. [ She puts it onto the arm of the couch. ] Take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall.

98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall. [ She slips a sweater over her shirt from the basket before going back to folding laundry. It's all kinds, really; athletic clothing, dresses, thongs, bras. ]

((not an ic cut)) )

68 bottles of beer on the wall, 68 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 67 bottles of beer. [ She finally finishes with sorting her large load of laundry. She tosses the basket up to wherever the NV is currently situated, effectively clicking off the video. ]
cheerhealer: (the neighbors are at it again)
[personal profile] cheerhealer
[ It's close to midnight. Claire is sitting on her bed, Mr. Muggles curled up on her lap and deep asleep. Her hair is shorter- much, much shorter. ]

Okay. You all can see this - [ She gestures up to her new hair. ] - right? A lot shorter.

[ The feed ends there, then comes back on ten minutes later, with her hair at its usual length. ]

Looks like today is February 2nd again. [ Annoyance is clear in her face. But she is a little glad; she didn't want to start off the new day with an awful haircut. ]
cheerhealer: (derιvaтιve)
[personal profile] cheerhealer
[ The video starts at an angle, propped up against something but, due to her height, she's still more or less at eye level with it. Her hair is up in a bun, her bangs styled neatly over her forehead. Her current temp job would run for a few more days, until the permanent secretary came back from an unplanned vacation. Her outfit was simple, nothing that would stand out in a normal office. Which, thankfully, this was. ]

It's been a pretty interesting start to the year so far, I'd say. Getting snowed in at the mall, homicidal robots, and that bomb at the apartments. It's amazing how people can go to work the next day like nothing happened.

And expect others to do the same. I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this 9 to 5 thing. [ She gives a half-assed smile at the half-assed joke. Not her actual hours, just more of a general work comment. She's cool. ]

But I guess I should be lucky to have a job, no matter how boring it is. Even if answering phones is the last thing I thought I'd be doing here. [ But damn it all, she needs money bad enough for it to be something she'd do. ]

[ voice | filtered to peter petrelli | ridiculously easy to hack ]

Peter, where are you? I really need to talk to you. [ On the off-chance he'd even see this. After what happened with Shika, she's been worried that he'd been caught by SERO. ]

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