blessingone | [ voice / action ] backdated to the 25th

[ voice / action ] backdated to the 25th

[The journal clicks on, showing the ceiling and an upward view of a sitting Fenimore from its position flat on the kitchen table. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it and stares blankly at the chair opposite. But, after a moment, she does begin.]

We're going to forget about this when we go home. [She stops, but continues after a moment: at first, haltingly, but picking up speed until she is nearly stumbling over her words.] At least, that's what people keep saying when they come back. If they remember being here before -- and not everyone does. A lot of the time, when they return, they don't remember any of it here. And things usually go back to the way they were before, at least when they get broken, and when people disappear everything they owned goes, too, mostly. And maybe that's something that can't be changed, the forgetting, the disappearing, even if we ever find a way to deliberately leave here, and one day all of us are going to be gone from here, and --

Does any of it matter? [The words burst out of her, not exactly angry, but certainly filled with an emotion close to it. An impotent frustration, perhaps. She's looking at the journal now.] If we're not going to remember any of it, if we're not going to leave anything behind, if no one's going to remember what it is we've done, does anything we do here matter? Is there a point to trying? Is there any reason to follow dreams, or find them, or -- or should we just accept that our lives are on hold here? And if -- if there isn't -- [If there isn't anything left for her in her world....

With a soft noise of irritation, not quite a grunt, she cuts herself off and looks away.] This is stupid.

...I shouldn't have said anything. Forget it. [She hesitates, and her gaze wanders for a second before fixing on a spot away from the journal.] Someone's probably asked something like this before, anyway.

[She stares moodily towards the stove before ducking her head.] Sorry.

[Apologies are rare from her and her voice is unusually subdued. But she quickly closes the journal and, folding her arms above it, she puts her head down over it. If she knew how to delete a voice post, she would do so, but now that it's there, she will still reply.

Later, she leaves House 34 and begins to wander the village, despite the light snowfall. She does go out walking fairly often, but she's slower than usual and doesn't pay attention to the people around her. From time to time, she will stop to stare at empty places, like the river or a bench in the plaza, lost in thought.

Eventually, her winding path leads her to the unowned clothing store -- she's not in the mood to talk to a shop owner. Though she almost never wears a hat, save to keep her ears warm in the winter, she spends her time sifting through generally unseasonable hats. She doesn't try any of them on, but she picks up one or two and looks at it. Sometimes, she smiles ever so slightly, wistful and nostalgic. Sometimes, she looks melancholy and regretful. Once or twice, she has to set down the hat to rub at her eyes.

It's hard to believe she's been gone for a year.

She doesn't return with or even try on any hats. Instead, she trudges back to her house with a pair of skates dangling from her hands by the laces. Her face is carefully blank and she keeps her head down almost the entire way.]

[~~Fair warning: tags are liable to be slow.~~]

Threaded | Flat

You're right! Should we let the Malnosso simply have their way and use us as they wish, we'll be sent home with absolutely nothing to show for our time here! The question is, are we going to let that happen? I for one am not letting them send me home without my memory!

...I think it all matters. Even if none of us should really be here, even if we can't change what will happen when we leave, we're still here now. We're still living here.

Besides, who knows? Maybe things will change and we can keep our memories.

[...Well, now. That isn't the most unexpected thing she's ever opened her journal to ~~first prize to Cecil and his screaming~~, but it's certainly up there.

Grune listens carefully to the entire post from her position in the flower shop. Then, quietly, she packs up the seeds she had already collected and heads home.

When she walks through the door of House 34, she calls out:] Fenimore?

[Someone is getting a hug whether they like it or not.]

We remember here, and so does everyone around us.

It matters if you want to stay. [Link sounds... unusually solemn, today.] I really don't wanna go back - I want to stay here with my friends. So everything that people do here matters to me.

[Wow. That... honestly this was something Adell had been pondering himself for a long time on and off. A question that's kind of haunted him, especially since his family...]

...Fenimore...

[Ah, music to Jay's ears.]

This is exactly why it's pointless to try to make friends or have parties, or any of that nonsense. All that really matters is finding a way home and regaining the lives that were stolen from us.

[The last few words sound exceptionally bitter.]

I, for one, would be more than happy to forget this place.

Even... even if I don't remember o-or it all goes away I think...

I think making friends and being happy is still important. This place and these people aren't fake, so... they shouldn't be treated like they are.

...I dunno about all that, but the sooner I get back- ...Well I gotta go back, but no matter how it happens, I'm not going to slack on training. Shura'd kill me.

[Oh, he's thought about this too.

He's left before and come back (and every time, it feels as if it's harder to remember Luceti when he returns, but it always comes back; the people, the places, everything) and he's experienced not remembering about it when he was at home (and maybe he wouldn't have been concerned with it because he had a job to do; still does, really) and if they forget about everything when they go home for good --

He's tense before he decides to reply, voice firm - but he can't hide his discomfort. Luca is naturally an open book to anyone who'll look at him or talk to him, and his depression at the state of things shows.]

It doesn't matter if it doesn't matter. Even if none of us remember what we do here when we go home for good, we'll still have done something. The Malnosso won't bring another group of fresh faces to experiment or conscript if they're happy with whatever results they get from us, or if we somehow get them to agree to send us home. Even if we won't know it, we'll have prevented something like this happening again.

Luceti's been really good to me. [And his voice is softer, now.] I really like it here, and I like everyone I've met. I'd be sad to forget everyone, especially since I'll likely never meet them again... but I know that's the way things are. I'm not happy with it at all, and -- I like to think that, maybe, you can change your fate [and maybe nothing is dictated in your past, and maybe the people who betrayed you back then wouldn't think of it in this life, and maybe everything is your fault and you're going to fix it all because it isn't going to stay this way any longer] but unless the Malnosso know something we don't, like how to keep our memories of here, it doesn't matter. Besides, it might be for the best that we don't remember anything. Friendships or not, we still won't see those people again.

[Which hurts to think about.]

Threaded | Flat

[Voice]

[Voice]

no subject

[written]

[Voice]

[Voice 1/2]

[Voice]

[Voice]

[voice]

[Voice] 1/2