Skyfall Hall, notorious for being one of the rainiest places in Britain. It has been many things in history: from a monastery built on top of a burial mound, to a fortress turned estate. A sanctuary; a residence; an institute.

And yet, throughout its many identities, its inhabitants were always few, down to singular individuals. A forlorn shelter at the edge of civilisation, the border of reality - and with it, a shroud of secrecy enveloping it. An enigmatic veil covers the estate, like the constant, misty rain, that blurs the lines between the normal and the occult, of Skyfall Hall.

Should you ever find yourself by the border of England and Scotland, where the mist grows thick, and the rain falls heavy from the skies; if you see in the distance, that old house of brick and stone, be not afraid to knock on the door. The librarian is more than happy to accomodate you; a cup of tea and some biscuits in the lounge, a game of chess or a book to read by the fireplace, and the warmest bed you could ever imagine to weather the stormy night.

Old Wood Best to Burn — Old Wine to Drink — Old Friends to Trust — and Old Authors to Read

Per aspera ad astra.

Rest in peace, Big Red.

E Pluribus Googum.

What's an anagram of Banach-Tarski? Banach-Tarski Banach-Tarski

Giving up personhood to become a full-time abstract concept.

Why don't you a prioritize getting some b*tches on your a posteriori?

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe... Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion... I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain... Time to die.

Merry Christmas Mr. Sakamoto.

Ovinn Nevarei.

Wir müssen wissen. Wir werden wissen.



I am not good at initiating conversations. It's highly unlikely that I'll be able to start a chat, no matter how much I want to. That said, my thought of our friendship is that it does not decay, so please do not hesitate to send me a message if you wish to talk with me!