-and wash me clean off the slate-

*a sandy journal lies discarded under a bank of sea-grass, its pages ruffled by the wind, until, with a sharp word, the near-translucent wraith of its owner orders it up into the air to follow him home*

*proceeding at a swift but still decorous pace after the scampering child who is carrying his skull, Bob quietly dictates a few words to the floating journal*


..A fine week and a half. Such days have, alas, been too few of late. We shall say nothing of the cactus pear, the umbrella incident, the grindylows, and especially the giant clam. This experience, however initially involuntary, will doubtless remain a bright spot in my reminiscences for years to come.

And now... if you're ready for us, Marik?

*accidental voice post, trailing away as he calls ahead* ..Daisya, did you say Floo or portkey? Because if it is a Portkey, I highly recommend that you stow that artifact in some casing that will prevent it from being lost en route....


[[Strikes hackable to staff. XD And the above is backdated to whatever time Daisya and Bob left Turkey for the House of Ishtar!]]