"If there was a button that killed everyone I hated, I probably wouldn't press it ... but if there was a button that killed everyone who hated me, I'd press it without hesitation."
[ Junpei had become a bit of a wandering ghost upon the return to town, associating the boarding house with a place he would easily be trapped. He slept where he could, returning a few times a day to eat from the kitchen but always keeping his visits brief unless there was someone there he felt safe around.
Curiosity and inability to sleep has him checking on the room he used to occupy one night, and it's during this visit that he finds the eloquently written note, eyes widening when he initially sees the length of it.
Unfortunately, it is written in a language he can't read.
Thinking it's just English, he brings it first to House. After some messing around the doctor gives him the gist of the note, and it's brought to John for further translation.
A fuzzy memory is there in his mind, of sweet scents and intimate engagements. Of things that were sharp and drew blood but somehow felt oh so good. His altered mind hadn't kept the whole situation for him to play back, but it's clear that it's been bothering her.
When he reaches out to her via the mind link it's nervous, but determined not to seem so. ]
Hello. I got your letter. I'm ... not really sure what to say. There's really no need to apologize. You weren't you, right? I don't really remember much of it.
[ She stops what she's doing, and takes a small valiant second to even try for sobriety. Luckily, pretending comes with the whole Queen thing, fairly often, so she inhales, sticks it in her throat to keep her words calm, and the dreaded awful feeling rises that -
Yes. That was his voice. The one from the network (the one from the cage.) That perhaps, the presence of her mind feels familiar from them, or at least, the voice that had laughed and laughed. ]
I do not make excuse for my actions. I feel... I feel awful, that I hurt you.
[ He recognizes her as well, and the conversation that had ended so ... oddly. But he pushes through the feelings of uncertainty, trying to reassure her. ]
Someone ate me as a monster and I ... think we're actually kind of friends now ... so ...
[ Comforting people that are upset isn't something he's had a lot of experience with, and he's worried that he's doing horribly at it. If she starts crying he's really going to panic. ]
[ There is just the empty silence, and then — some deep and quiet sigh. Is that how it always will be? ]
I do not... I do not want to ask for...
[ No, that was not the right way around. She rubs at her forehead on her end, trying to clear her thoughts. ]
I just want you to be well, and not feel... feel obliged to accept me, one way or another. [ She clenches her jaw. ] I worry, I suspect, because that is often my duty, to accept what happens, regardless of how I feel. That I would not want to make another do the same. It seems... the least I can do... I do not remember much of the cage, only your face, your voice, how I felt to my bones you were mine, and that I wanted to rip them apart for coming near you.
I know things got a little intense the other day … but I don’t know you well enough to make any kind of sweeping judgement on you. I’m just … tired. Of this place. That’s all.
[ The same age she took the throne, and the two of them, Ianthe as well - with all this weight heaped upon them. ]
I only fear... I fear what happens when we stop taking accountability for ourselves. For myself. I... I never want to be so inured to cruelty that I cause another the pain I have gone through.
The rules are different here. We can't ... think of it like the worlds we came from. Everything is unstable. I wish I could say it'll all be okay, but ... I can't.
[ It does take her a moment, to conjure the image and quite find the trick as he had, to keep the image whole, in her mind, and then project it to him. Focusing completely to do it (and privately, make sure, that more did not come through, and frighten him).
A great and long feasting splashes out, every inch of it decorated. People of all kinds are crowded around from her current view, which is looking down from slightly raised at the back. Looking onto the middle of the two long tables, where a group of actors are staging their play. But each of them is more fantastical than the last. They are involved in some kind of chase, where the skeletal creature robed in flowers chases the woman through the rows of dancers time their movements to seem like trees whipped about in a storm, lashing ribbons right and left to swirl in the 'wind'. In the woman's hands is a skull that she uses as a light to guide her way, and the old woman laughs when it seems like she actually, legitimately, is floating and flying. Some of it is almost like the town they all lived in now, but other parts of it are far, far older, centuries and centuries before anything like the village had now. Only candles and fireplaces to light the space, the crowd dressed in clearly something more like the beginning of the middle ages than anything current, even if there are some of the same choices in clothing styles and ornaments.
It's a moment, just one, where the scene of the play unfolds, no more than she can hold beyond that. Then like having to give up on holding a deep breathe, she releases it and lets it fade from their connection. ]
They are the Mummers, they stay with us in winter to tell stories to entertain us over the long dark nights.
[ He absorbs it all in rapt attention, awed by the intricacy of the costumes and the scene overall. He knows from personal experience how much focus and energy it takes to relay moving images over telepathy, and he's as impressed by how long she can hold onto it as equally as he is with the Mummers themselves. ]
That was beautiful. I ... really appreciate you sharing it with me. I felt like I was there.
I am glad, I felt the same when you showed me that beautiful ship. My people are sailors, we are bound to the Sea, and it felt wonderous to see another world's ocean. Especially here, where there is no sea to bring me solace.
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Curiosity and inability to sleep has him checking on the room he used to occupy one night, and it's during this visit that he finds the eloquently written note, eyes widening when he initially sees the length of it.
Unfortunately, it is written in a language he can't read.
Thinking it's just English, he brings it first to House. After some messing around the doctor gives him the gist of the note, and it's brought to John for further translation.
A fuzzy memory is there in his mind, of sweet scents and intimate engagements. Of things that were sharp and drew blood but somehow felt oh so good. His altered mind hadn't kept the whole situation for him to play back, but it's clear that it's been bothering her.
When he reaches out to her via the mind link it's nervous, but determined not to seem so. ]
Hello. I got your letter. I'm ... not really sure what to say. There's really no need to apologize. You weren't you, right? I don't really remember much of it.
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Yes. That was his voice. The one from the network (the one from the cage.) That perhaps, the presence of her mind feels familiar from them, or at least, the voice that had laughed and laughed. ]
I do not make excuse for my actions. I feel... I feel awful, that I hurt you.
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Someone ate me as a monster and I ... think we're actually kind of friends now ... so ...
[ Comforting people that are upset isn't something he's had a lot of experience with, and he's worried that he's doing horribly at it. If she starts crying he's really going to panic. ]
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I do not... I do not want to ask for...
[ No, that was not the right way around. She rubs at her forehead on her end, trying to clear her thoughts. ]
I just want you to be well, and not feel... feel obliged to accept me, one way or another. [ She clenches her jaw. ] I worry, I suspect, because that is often my duty, to accept what happens, regardless of how I feel. That I would not want to make another do the same. It seems... the least I can do... I do not remember much of the cage, only your face, your voice, how I felt to my bones you were mine, and that I wanted to rip them apart for coming near you.
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I know things got a little intense the other day … but I don’t know you well enough to make any kind of sweeping judgement on you. I’m just … tired. Of this place. That’s all.
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I don't think any of us should be held responsible for what the monsters do. I know I don't control mine.
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I only fear... I fear what happens when we stop taking accountability for ourselves. For myself. I... I never want to be so inured to cruelty that I cause another the pain I have gone through.
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[ She hovers a second. But: ]
You were... you were the one who spoke of... 'movies', yes?
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[ To mend bridges, any of them, requires items of wood, nails and hands. It seemed the same. ]
Would... would you like to see how we tell stories, in my home? It is not so... mighty in scale, but...
[ An offering of something the same, of home sickness, and the simple love of things that gave comfort. ]
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[ She does not the skill others do in project their mind, as much as her own is protected. ]
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A great and long feasting splashes out, every inch of it decorated. People of all kinds are crowded around from her current view, which is looking down from slightly raised at the back. Looking onto the middle of the two long tables, where a group of actors are staging their play. But each of them is more fantastical than the last. They are involved in some kind of chase, where the skeletal creature robed in flowers chases the woman through the rows of dancers time their movements to seem like trees whipped about in a storm, lashing ribbons right and left to swirl in the 'wind'. In the woman's hands is a skull that she uses as a light to guide her way, and the old woman laughs when it seems like she actually, legitimately, is floating and flying. Some of it is almost like the town they all lived in now, but other parts of it are far, far older, centuries and centuries before anything like the village had now. Only candles and fireplaces to light the space, the crowd dressed in clearly something more like the beginning of the middle ages than anything current, even if there are some of the same choices in clothing styles and ornaments.
It's a moment, just one, where the scene of the play unfolds, no more than she can hold beyond that. Then like having to give up on holding a deep breathe, she releases it and lets it fade from their connection. ]
They are the Mummers, they stay with us in winter to tell stories to entertain us over the long dark nights.
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That was beautiful. I ... really appreciate you sharing it with me. I felt like I was there.
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I am glad, I felt the same when you showed me that beautiful ship. My people are sailors, we are bound to the Sea, and it felt wonderous to see another world's ocean. Especially here, where there is no sea to bring me solace.
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Ah, well … I’m glad I could help in some way.
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My apologies I thought the trade language... would be better...
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... Well, I suppose it is good to know it was not my lack of lessons catching up to me.