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"I Can Not Answer. You Must Leave A Message."

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[OOC: DISCLAIMER

In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, nor any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.]

Gladys had been taking the genet for a walk; had been, until they'd wandered into the island's snake solarium. It was a sunny glade, with flat rocks, which probably explained its attraction for the cold blooded beasties.

They did not appreciate being disturbed, and hissed and rattled their disapproval.

The genet, not being stupid, scrambled straight up Gladys to snarl her defiance from the safety of the golem's head as the enraged reptiles launched their collective ire at the target they could reach. Venom dripping from every fang, mouths stretched wide to bite, they attacked.

Only to bounce off, stunned, with broken fang and rattled skulls.

"That Was Foolish," she said and they roused themselves to slither drunkenly out of the clearing, as fast as their belly scales could carry them.

Exactly one minute later, a mob of wee Aussie Stockmen came galloping in, whips cracking, only to slide to a halt at the sight of Gladys.

"You Are Too Late," she informed them and the genet sniffed her contempt, oozing down to lie across Gladys' shoulders as the golem turned and tromped out of the clearing, leaving very puzzled stockmen in her wake.

Gladys' eyes flared into life as the bed gave up and with a discrete and long suffering creak, settled completely onto the floor. Oddly enough, given this was her third time being eaten by it, she could bear no ill will towards the land shark.

It was simply doing as the words in its head dictated, just as they all did.

Moving carefully, Gladys stood up off the bed, made it as tidy as she could, then left to go and find the genet. It was by far the simplest thing on the island to understand.

[ooc: just establishy, unless the roomate wants the room.]

Gladys was in her room with the door shut, staring out the window at the sky. The lesson that people were supposed to learn from the play continued to elude her, so she had returned to watching the stars for signs of life.

People, she was rapidly concluding, were not only complicated, but in many cases, the words in their head could use a rewrite.

[ooc: for the laaaaaaand shaaaaaark!]

Gladys's eyes flared into life. She was in bed, which was now so bowed it nearly touched the floor in the middle, and she had been eaten by the land shark.

Again.

With a flicker of her eyes, she got up, straightened her clothes, and tromped out of the room. That was both flowers and a singing telegram that she'd thought she was getting; it was almost enough to dim a golem's spirits.

[ooc: Just establishy, unless the roommate wants to use the room]

Gladys, who was last seen disappearing into the belly of a land shark, opened her eyes in her bed. "That Was Very Strange," she said, as the bed creaked alarmingly under her weight.

She carefully climbed off it, leaving it permanently bowed. "And I Would Like To Have Gotten Flowers."

With that, she found her book and left the room.

[ooc: just establishy, unless the roommate wants to use the room or react!]

Gladys wasn't intending to be in her room for very long.

She was never very comfortable here, what with her weight and her uncertainty about the floor's load bearing capacity.

She wanted her book, though, and so she'd come up to get it. However, it didn't seem to be where she'd left it, and so she was attempting to find it it with single-minded efficiency.

[ooc: Door is closed, post is for the LAND SHARK whee!]

Gladys had taken no real harm from fighting the hydra - a few chips here and there, but nothing that a tube of rubber cement couldn't fix. Her dress, however, was another matter entirely.

It had been completely destroyed, nothing left of it but slobbery tatters, which posed her some difficulty. A lady couldn't go about unclothed, yet she had no replacement dress.

So, she was wrapped in a very large blanket, sarong style, which provided sufficient modesty while she fashioned a new dress from some unused curtains she'd found. Golems were surprisingly handy with a needle and thread, and could stitch with machinelike precision, so it wasn't too hard.

She may or may not be aware that she was singing a song about a lonely goatherd.

[ooc: can be open, sure, but I may be slow what with the stupid being sick thing.]

Gladys had decided it would be a good idea to come inside. Not that a little volcano ash could hurt her, or, in fact, a little volcano anything (although she really didn't want to be trapped in a lava flow; it could be years until someone chipped her out). The genet, however, was not volcano proof and she was responsible for it.

Laura, for such was the genet's name, was being distracted from ripping through Gladys' roomate's things by the cunning use of a pillow.

Or what used to be a pillow and was now a flurry of feathers filling the room.

[ooc: open of course!]

Genets, it turned out, were nocturnal. Gladys discovered this when it went from unconscious to wildly active only minutes after the sun went down.

This wasn't a problem for Gladys - she didn't sleep and she didn't get tired. So she'd spent the night following the genet through the preserve as it climbed and hunted and pounced on bugs, which it then ate with every evidence of enjoyment.

When something startled it, it froze, then ran straight up Gladys to perch on her head.

The sun rose, the genet started to get tired, and Gladys found herself sitting behind the cabin with it curled up in her palm. It blinked sleepily up at her, yawning occasionally. "If You Are Going to Stay, Jamie Says That You Need A Name," she rumbled.

It chirruped, stretched, and sharpened its claws on her arm.

[ooc: just establishy]

It was the first time Gladys had been inside the cabin, and the floor creaked and groaned as she made her cautious way inside. It wasn't exactly an easy fit.

She found her alcove, untouched and slightly dusty, and pulled back the curtain. "Now That You Are Dry You Have To Stay Here." The genet blinked, yawned, climbed down her front and dropped onto the bed.

A few minutes of digging and scratching, and it had turned the once-tidy bed into a comfy nest, whereupon it promptly went to sleep.

[ooc: totally open for cabinmates!]

When Gladys left the Preserve this morning, she kept walking in the direction she'd been facing. It was that or go back to the cabins, and she hadn't seen much of the island as a student.

She stopped when she reached the beach. Not that she had to, a golem could walk from one continent to another on the ocean's floor, but she had no need to do so. She was so still that, if not for her size and her blue dress, she could have been mistaken for a rock as she stared out at the ocean.

Her eyes sparked into life when the movement of the tide brought a frantically swimming creature into her line of sight. It was flailing, and small, and Gladys watched it dispassionately, eyes flickering, as it grew weaker.

And then she was walking into the water, moving fast enough to leave a wake. In other circumstances the small, spotted, bedraggled thing would probably have fled at the sight of Gladys, but it wasn't exactly in a position to be choosy. When she put a hand under it and lifted it up, it lay limply, dwarfed by her massive palm, and didn't stir as she turned and trudged back to the beach, water streaming off her.

"You Should Not Be In The Water If You Cannot Swim," she told it, and tried to deposit it on a bit of driftwood.

It clung tightly to a finger and refused to budge.

"Off."

It declined to cooperate and scrabbled up her arm, latching its claws into the fabric of her dress. Golems were warmish, given they were powered by an internal fire, and the no longer drowning creature curled up on her shoulder and started licking itself dry.

"I Have To Go To Class And You Cannot Come With Me."

It ignored her.

"I Could Remove You." She didn't sound very certain. Her experience dealing with small furry creatures was limited to preparing meals for Mr Fusspot (small dog and Chairman of the Bank of Ankh-Morpork).

It stopped mid-lick, looked up at her, gave a tiny trill, then went back to drying itself.

A person would have sighed; Gladys' eyes dimmed. "Very Well. You Can Stay There Until You Are Dry And Then You Have To Get Off." The genet (which was what it was) chirruped, and Gladys turned to begin the walk to the cabins.

[ooc: just establishy.]

Wednesday was Gladys' day of rest, the golem Holy Day, when golems went off to be golems. It kept the words in their head working, and that was important.

For the first time in one thousand and fifty four years, Gladys -- though she hadn't had that name, or any name, very long at all -- wondered what would happen if she didn't stop for the Holy Day.

It was only for a moment, however, and she walked into the Preserve in the dark of Tuesday night, stopped between two trees, and went still as only a golem could. A machine at rest, the power switched off. No light, no life, just clay.

For the first time in one thousand and fifty four years, though, she wasn't staring at the ground. For the first time, her head was tilted back as she rested, eyes on the stars as the sky lightened.

[ooc: Discworld golems have their Holy Day once a week, so this is just establishy. Though anyone is welcome to stumble across her. She won't react at all

Somewhat belated availability post, but I was feeling it out. Work has blocked LiveJournal and most other fun internety things, the dastardly scoundrels. This means my availability between 6pm and 4am EST is entirely dependent on my laptop, cell phone, the whims of fate that dictate whether said cell phone will achieve a signal and the vagaries of work.

If I disappear or am very slow, this would be why.

This applies to cheminthehead, idontlooktired, vkandis_son (not that he's around) and canlendyouahand *outs self*.

Gladys wasn't sleeping. Golems simply didn't.

What she was doing while others slept was standing absolutely still near the Sirius cabin, eyes glowing brightly, staring up at the stars. She had been there since dusk and she would stay there until dawn, watching to see if the stars did anything that indicated they were alive.

So far, all they'd done was twinkle, but she'd keep watching.

YAY FOR IT BEING THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN!

Harriet Jones: She's British, she was the Prime Minister of Great Britain and now she's the Dean of Students, you do not want to get on her bad side and, despite what Barney would have you believe, she's totally not a cougar. That pretty much covers what you need to know.

Karal Austreben: he's sweet, he's a Sun-priest of Vkandis Sunlord, he's loves Evey Hammond, he's gone for the moment. That should cover him for now!

Jack Harkness: he flirts, he dances, he sexes, he travels in time, he's completely in love with Cedric Diggory and Sam Carter. As he's an alumnus and pretty unlikely to be back on the island any time soon, that should do him as well.

Gladys, A Golem: Hoo Boy. Okay, this is going to take some words.

The basics -- she's 1054 years old, made of clay filled with fire, has glowing eyes, stands nearly seven foot tall, has hands the size of shovels, weighs just shy of a tonne, can lift an SUV over her head easily and she moves as lightly as smoke. She doesn't eat, drink, breathe or sleep and is near indestructible.

( About The Golem )