𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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abraxasnet2021-10-24 12:03 am
bloomly) wrote in abraxasnet2021-10-24 12:03 am
TO: EVERYONE.
( it's not like she means to, and certainly not like she wants to broadcast her thoughts, in the neat, curling cursive that it comes in, to people that she doesn't even know, in a place where she's fairly certain she's all alone. sure, there had been the sudden intrusion before, of words splashed on her bedsheets and the wooden walls where she sleeps--but she had figured that must have been some sort of hallucination, perhaps even magic, or worse, some sort of curse; she doesn't know anything about this place except what those here, in solvunn, have told her, and what's a halloween anyway? some sort of other curse?
or is this something different? it wouldn't be the first time the planet said things to her that she didn't understand, a cacophony of voices scrambled together: some happy, others upset, some desperate to be lost to the lifestream entirely. but this isn't gaia, and this isn't her flower garden--the cries of the planet don't reach her here, or do they? is that the meaning of all those words before?
it's late at night when her eyes close: maybe if she thinks hard enough, long enough, she can find that pull, the tug of the lifestream to draw her thoughts together with the planet beneath her. maybe she can find a way out of here. maybe there are a lot of 'maybe's. )
𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓂𝑒?
( the text, all loopy and warm and rounded, pops up with no discretion for who it's sent to, or why: it's just there, to everyone open to it, and repeats patiently if ignored. then, another: )
𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅?
( and, of course, there's a neat little signature at the bottom of every message: )
- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽
or is this something different? it wouldn't be the first time the planet said things to her that she didn't understand, a cacophony of voices scrambled together: some happy, others upset, some desperate to be lost to the lifestream entirely. but this isn't gaia, and this isn't her flower garden--the cries of the planet don't reach her here, or do they? is that the meaning of all those words before?
it's late at night when her eyes close: maybe if she thinks hard enough, long enough, she can find that pull, the tug of the lifestream to draw her thoughts together with the planet beneath her. maybe she can find a way out of here. maybe there are a lot of 'maybe's. )
( the text, all loopy and warm and rounded, pops up with no discretion for who it's sent to, or why: it's just there, to everyone open to it, and repeats patiently if ignored. then, another: )
( and, of course, there's a neat little signature at the bottom of every message: )
no subject
...Nope.
He's doing his very best to ignore it. Because after all, all this is, is something imagined, right? Something that he needs to ignore, keep quiet about, and keep concealed. Especially since he's presently on guard duty, and the person stationed at the edge of the barracks with him won't shut the hell up about a lot of things, and the last thing he wants to do is give him a cause to go off again.
So ignore it he does.
...For... a long time, actually.
Except it keeps repeating. Over and over, and the name amongst all of it seems to be showing up more often and...
He's imagining it. He has to be.
By the end of the day, When his shift is covered and when he's in an uncomfortable little single bunk back at the dorm, the words are behind his damn eyelids when he closes his eyes- or rather, a single word.
Aerith.
It's driving him crazy. Crazy enough to open them, to take a small stub of a pencil from his roommates table, and curl back up on his bunk. This... it's stupid. He stares at the wall a while before he does it, but he starts to scribble over the letters. <
Aerith's response should read:]
no subject
strange? the tangled picture is signed cloud.
no, it's not him. could it be him? perhaps it's meant to denote what the picture is supposed to be: and that makes her laugh, once, quiet so as not to disturb the others in the house where she sleeps. )
𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝐼𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓏𝑒. 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝓃𝑒? 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻...! 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼'𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒~
- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽
no subject
Scribbling as he did- oddly- made the words disappear from his vision. Now, all that occupies his thoughts as he exhales and closes his eyes is waking up early. Of scrubbing the wall clean before his drill sergeant saw and things got bad. Yeah, he's over it.
But then a few moments later, they're back.
No, they're different ones now. And as he reads them, it has to be his imagination, it has to be- he can hear a voice. Whimsical. Childish. Both irritating and endearing and... it'd be a thing he thought strange if it didn't freak him out.]
...
[For perhaps half an hour he lies there, willing them to go away. His eyes open, and he sighs. The bed creaks as he turns around, and on the wall...]
What makes you think I can afford it?
[And more importantly...]
Forget it. You know her?
no subject
𝒦𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑜, 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽?
𝐼𝒻 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜?
no subject
Cut the bullshit. Who are
[No. That's something that she'd actually say, and- his handwriting, neat block letters, slows. Then it's scribbled out. Viciously. And replaced.]
If you're real and treating this like some joke, it isn't funny. I searched where I am, and she's not here. So tell me where you got that name.
no subject
this writing is--hurried, like she's not taking her time anymore. )
𝐼'𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓃 𝒮𝑜𝓁𝓋𝓊𝓃𝓃. 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?
𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝐼'𝓂 𝓂𝑒, 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝓈. 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹?
no subject
[What does he even do here.
Letters. On the wall. Are claiming they're someone important to him. Someone who his better sense damn well knows wouldn't be here, shouldn't be here, he's looked for her and-
It sounds just like her. He can practically hear her voice as he reads her words, it sounds like her that much.
This is like that time, in her garden.
So...
A good half hour later...]
You don't have to prove anything. I don't know for sure if it's really you. But I [Want to.] believe you.
[If anyone could manage something this weird, it's her.]
No idea where Solvunn is. So give me a day or two, okay? I'll find you.
no subject
he wants to believe her, but he doesn't: not fully, maybe. that's like him, too.
she wants to believe it, though--i'll find you, words that hit harder than they should. hasn't someone else said something like that before? but he-- )
𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒? 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊?
𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉...𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜, 𝒷𝓊𝓉...
( but he'll never agree to that, if it's really cloud. so: )
𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒻𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒹. 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒.
( however long it might take. )