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"You've reached the spell phone of Magnus Bane, Magnificent High Warlock of Brooklyn.

If you're calling for business, leave a brief voice message and let me know what you need.

If it's personal, you know where I live.

~~If it's Alec, come upstairs, boo. I'm waiting for you.~~

I also love to text, so feel free to shoot me a line if you're bored. If I'm bored, I'll get back to you. Ta."

{Beep}

Well, well. We have more than one reason to celebrate, don't we? {Of course, in celebration of the following, Magnus has decided to enjoy a drink, even if it is the afternoon}

We're alive. That's always a plus. {Well, for Magnus, that's a given, immortal and all. It'll take more than Somarium's usual tricks}

The house is intact. That's convenient.

And there's still ample supply of alcohol in Somarium. I can't argue with that. {Smirk}

So, what else would you wish for? {Yes, Magnus is playing Santa again. That's not to say he's actually giving out freebies ~~unless your name is Alec.~~ He's bored and this is another public broadcast for his own amusement}

Current Mood: content

{There's an exhale of blue smoke before the feed clears to the sparkling face of your resident High Warlock of Espoir, self-named but obviously an indisputable title.

{Magnus looks a level above bored, which is why he's come bearing gossip and a half-empty glass of something potent}

Well, well.

It looks like our fanged friend has left us again. One less love triangle to follow, one less roommate to annoy.

At least he's back in New York. For that, I can't really mourn his passing. Lucky boy. {Flicks his long-stemmed cigarette before smirking around the end of it}

Good morning!

{Magnus is oddly chipper, considering it was before noon and his boyfriend still sleeps. On the other hand, so does his boyfriend's sister and he hasn't been bothered by their adopted brother in a while either, so life in the MI Manse is good}

After the disappointing turn out with my poker game, I decided maybe it's time I tried to give back to the community.

As the self-titled High Warlock of Espoir, it falls upon me to offer my services to the less fortunate, namely the mundanes of Somarium who find themselves wounded, plagued by unsightly pores, those who are unable to sleep or in need of an ugly memory erased from their minds before an embarrassing dream can reveal their darkest secrets to the entire network. {Magnus loves gossip. And reality tv. Does it show?}

Of course, I don't work for free, darling. {Pauses to take a sip of his coffee. Really, it's more cream and sugar than anything}

But I have time to spare and I'm running out of things to redecorate, so I'm willing to strike a bargain. This week only, I will accept IOUs, unopened bottles of liquor, and designer shoes in payment. Actually, scratch the part about the shoes. I'm picky about footwear.

{Smirks around the edge of the mug} Phone line opens as soon as we're done here, so don't make me wait.

Just state your name and what you need, and we'll see if there's anything I can do for you.

If there are no takers, I'm going to take a nap.

Current Mood: chipper

Good evening.

{Hello, Somarium. For those who don't know him - and you must be new if you don't, this is the Magnificent Magnus Bane, self-titled High Warlock of Espoir, former High Warlock of Brooklyn. This couch, while not his old, well-loved couch - destroyed in the flood, is an adequate replacement. It's long enough for sprawling and he's called dibs on it, meaning no one else in the house save his bf and his cat are allowed to trespass without paying a penalty. Just to be extra sure this rule is enforced, he may have put a spell on it to keep certain Nephilim (as well as a vampire, a gender-bending god and testy mundane) from touching his property.

{So, Magnus is sprawled across his replacement couch, one hand in his hair, absently running painted fingers through the styled spikes while he considers tonight's conversation starter.

{Well, well. This one is actually relevant to his own interests. So, why not?}

I was wondering: how many of you are still virgins?

{And how many of you are actually likely to own up to it? Magnus smirked at the screen}

[ooc: Replies may be threadjacked by a aevitas who lives next door. Magnus invited her over for company]

Current Mood: mischievous

Why, thank you, Somarium.

It's very sweet of everyone to throw a large-scale bash for my anniversary here. Usually I just have a party at my flat, drink a fine vintage and curl up with my cat at the end of the night. But if you'd like to jazz up the place with color, spread good will towards men, and let the food flow, I'm not opposed. It's far less work for me.

But if anyone wants to get away from the crowd, I'm going to be opening up several bottles tonight to celebrate the year-mark and the return of my boyfriend - and my cat.

It's mansion 1B in Espoir, if you haven't had the pleasure yet.

Oh, and please don't call for directions. That's just lazy.

Current Mood: mischievous

[It's dark in the room. It's late. By all rights, Magnus should be sleeping upstairs, but he can't sleep. Instead, he's in the kitchen, looking over his old invitations list for the party he never seems to get around to throwing. But he does come back to the invite list time and again, which is why it currently looks like crap, so many names scratched out and added, it's a mess. Might also help if it wasn't hand-written.

[Magnus is leaning against the kitchen counter, having accidentally nudged the Dreamberry while he was writing. It's the only light in the room, capturing what he's doing. There's no header to suggest it's a list for a party. It just appears to be a hand-written list of names, currently being destroyed]
( [spy on him here] )

Current Mood: annoyed

I've been here over a month now. That's not even a blink to some of you, I know. So don't rub it in. But it's a long time for me. I've stopped looking for a way out, stopped hoping just to wake up in my own bed with my cat and my heavy curtains to keep the sun out. This is real. This is my life.

Damn.

Happy Hallowe'en, freaks.

This has to be among one of the weirdest Halloweens I've ever experienced, including that time I drank from the punch bowl and lost a huge chunk of memory. And trashed my old apartment.

Don't suppose we can upload any of this on youtube? No? Then I'll just have to take pictures.

I don't miss having to hand out candy to mundane children in their cheap Downworlder costumes. I always slip the Disney princesses the most chocolate. Now that's cute. Sparkles, flounces, and a tiara. I'm jealous. Why didn't I get a cute costume?

Instead, I've got this oversized pimple, a polyester nightmare, and I'm hungry. Like mad hungry. And horny.

This is going to end at the stroke of midnight, right? Or are we turning into pumpkins?

I hate my hair.

[Holds the phone up to his face, obviously unhappy with the limp strands. At least it came out straight without the use of an iron, but that's only because of magic fingers and a lot of heat]

I'm frustrated, and I'm taking it out on my hair - and if I don't stop, I'm going to burn it off.

That's it. I'm done. Screw styling it.

I hate this place.

( All work and no play makes Magnus a dull boy... )

[Magnus opened his eyes, looking up at the blinding sun.

Ouch. And closing them again, rubbing his eyelids, painful streaks and spots of color dancing beneath them. He didn't remember drifting off.

Damn. He was kind of hoping he'd wake up back in Brooklyn, to his cat and his comfy bed.]

Where can I get hooked up with some decent hair gel in this piece? I tried to visualize 'hair gel' and I ended up with something really sticky and so not going in my hair. I think my power is out of tune here. Or my ignorance of the area is working against conjuring simple things. It used to be so easy...

Sudden concern for my cat.

If this is just a dreamworld - which I keep hearing over and over again (what does that mean, anyway? Like someone playing monopoly with our minds? If so - I wanna be the car). Anyway, if we're all dreaming, then who's in the driver's seat? Who's keeping the truck afloat? Whose fighting the battle?

And who's feeding my cat?

Chairman Meow, I love you and I'm sorry. Hopefully you're smart enough - and desperate enough, to find the stash in the bottom left cabinet. Behind last year's Christmas presents. And if you lay havoc to the bedroom, I'll scalp you.

Just kidding. When their warlock's away, a cat will play. Please...just take out the den first, OK? I don't think there's anything I'd miss in there.

Has anyone ever tried to make a portal out of this place?

Can you see me now?

[Big grin for the tiny lens on the phone]

I'm trying to figure this thing out. Who cares if I'm in the middle of who-knows-where? I have a mysterious cell phone with a mile long list of contacts, video, free texting, maybe unlimited calling. And an interchangeable case. Which I can't stop changing, just for funsies.

Yes, I am mildly concerned as to where I am. [Glances around, and scratches his scalp between two neatly arranged spikes] But either I'm right and it's just a prank. Or I'm also right, and I'm unconscious again in the truck and I'm going to wake up in thirty seconds - hopefully in the lap of a certain wet, shivering, needy shadowhunter...

[Stops short, lips pursed, distracted]

At least I'm warm. And dry. And I don't feel like crap. So if this is just one big mind-job or some kind of spell...or me waiting to wake up in the lap of forbidden love, I guess I'll take it.

Got to preserve battery power. Does this even run off a battery, or some kind of magic? [Squints at the screen briefly, then pats down his vest in case he missed a charger]

I'm going to have a look around. Magnus Bane, signing out.

Current Mood: curious

(Look at this contact list. I haven't seen a line this long since Purgatory opened up. The night club - not that gray area in hell. I think I'll spam everyone and see if anyone interesting pops up. Or maybe I'll find the fretting owner of this phone. Starting to lean toward a girl, not a boy - it's so pretty. And I've added some flare to the cover to match my nailpolish.)

As the modern slang goes: what up? Don't suppose anyone knows how far we are from Brooklyn? I tried to conjure a map, and didn't recognize any of the landmarks. It can't be upstate.