Lucas (
a_gentle_boy) wrote2011-01-28 05:19 pm
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Entry tags:
Twenty-Ninth PSI
[action]
[The days of January have passed relatively uneventfully for Lucas. He's had a lot to think about, and a lot to consider. For now, though, each time passes much like the rest, and he will take happiness in whatever peace he can get. His routine is fairly straightforward.
1: Every morning, early morning, Lucas gets on his tea table and delivers his paper. He's still getting used to the hang of it, though. Maybe he'll accidentally smash it into your door, at which point, he'll hurriedly get off to check to see if he damaged anything. Most of the time, he hasn't.
2: After school, he practices piano alone in the music room. By this point, he can be eavesdropped upon without anyone wanting to forbid him from ever touching an instrument again. The songs he plays are strangely melancholy.
3: In his free time, he sits in the park or in his house and practices his sketching. Most of the time, he's drawing his friends, so perhaps you'll run across him drawing you.]
[voice]
[A phone call is broadcast to everyone later that night.]
Hello? A-Ah. This is Lucas.
I've been thinking a lot lately, and there's something that's been on my mind. I guess I want to ask . . . How long has this town been here? How long have people come in and out? Does anyone really know? But what's more important is . . . does anyone really remember everyone who's been here?
When people get droned, we think they've gone home, right? It's the hope we have, and a lot of the times it's true, but can we really be sure that it's everyone? Sergei -- the Russian man. He, um. Didn't he say that they were in a lot of pain? That some people who were droned . . . that they were still inside. If that's so, then . . . then we can't just forget about them, right? Even if one person is still here as a drone, we can't forget about them. And either way, it's terrible to forget the people you've become friends with at all. To forget about the people who've come to Mayfield and who've gone.
............. I know I've already started to.
Does anyone think we should maybe start keeping track? Just . . . something so that the people who come here won't ever be forgotten. Maybe even signatures. So if you do start to forget, then you can look back and see everyone's name and remember. Small things like . . . Miss Margot, and how she was always caring for her sister. Fuuko and how much she loved starfish. Mr. Zero, and how fun his gym classes were.
It might be a bad idea. Or too much work. But . . . Well. I guess if you don't want to talk about that, maybe we can just share stories of people who've been here and how important they were to us. I'd love to hear that kind of thing.
[Please specify 1, 2, 3, or voice. Although the actions are really just default Lucas interactions if your character has no interest in this topic.]
[The days of January have passed relatively uneventfully for Lucas. He's had a lot to think about, and a lot to consider. For now, though, each time passes much like the rest, and he will take happiness in whatever peace he can get. His routine is fairly straightforward.
1: Every morning, early morning, Lucas gets on his tea table and delivers his paper. He's still getting used to the hang of it, though. Maybe he'll accidentally smash it into your door, at which point, he'll hurriedly get off to check to see if he damaged anything. Most of the time, he hasn't.
2: After school, he practices piano alone in the music room. By this point, he can be eavesdropped upon without anyone wanting to forbid him from ever touching an instrument again. The songs he plays are strangely melancholy.
3: In his free time, he sits in the park or in his house and practices his sketching. Most of the time, he's drawing his friends, so perhaps you'll run across him drawing you.]
[voice]
[A phone call is broadcast to everyone later that night.]
Hello? A-Ah. This is Lucas.
I've been thinking a lot lately, and there's something that's been on my mind. I guess I want to ask . . . How long has this town been here? How long have people come in and out? Does anyone really know? But what's more important is . . . does anyone really remember everyone who's been here?
When people get droned, we think they've gone home, right? It's the hope we have, and a lot of the times it's true, but can we really be sure that it's everyone? Sergei -- the Russian man. He, um. Didn't he say that they were in a lot of pain? That some people who were droned . . . that they were still inside. If that's so, then . . . then we can't just forget about them, right? Even if one person is still here as a drone, we can't forget about them. And either way, it's terrible to forget the people you've become friends with at all. To forget about the people who've come to Mayfield and who've gone.
............. I know I've already started to.
Does anyone think we should maybe start keeping track? Just . . . something so that the people who come here won't ever be forgotten. Maybe even signatures. So if you do start to forget, then you can look back and see everyone's name and remember. Small things like . . . Miss Margot, and how she was always caring for her sister. Fuuko and how much she loved starfish. Mr. Zero, and how fun his gym classes were.
It might be a bad idea. Or too much work. But . . . Well. I guess if you don't want to talk about that, maybe we can just share stories of people who've been here and how important they were to us. I'd love to hear that kind of thing.
[Please specify 1, 2, 3, or voice. Although the actions are really just default Lucas interactions if your character has no interest in this topic.]
voice, sorry for the late tag! 1/2
[ giggles ] But she's gone now, so... [ She grows quiet. ]
no subject
You're right. The bonds we make with people, they're not something we can forget so easily. In fact, we shouldn't forget them. This town just makes it difficult... But if we make a photo album or something, even if we forget all over again, the days we spent together will still be there!
Not a problem!
[Lucas had known the girl, too. But what he thinks about for a few moments is that if he'd had photographs of the times he and Taiwan had spent together, it might have been easier to get close to her again.]
We'll have to put things of the people we remember, too. Just because we started too late for them doesn't mean they shouldn't be included.
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What are you gonna put?
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'cause it's like watching a part of you go, too.
So we write about them and make them live on. I haven't been keeping track since I got here, but I'll starting writing again. About the people I meet, what they do and what they say...
Ooh, I'll write about Lucas first!
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[Somehow, it's a bit like writing a eulogy for loved ones who had gone. The idea was a little unsettling. Even if his only experience with eulogies had been 'waaaaaaahhhhhh'.]
I mean, I-I guess you could, but . . . you can save me for the end, right?
[He pauses.]
It must be hard on all of you. Watching the people you've come to care for die, generation after generation. The immortals from my world were a bit like that -- But they just stopped caring for humans after a while.
1/2
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[Lucas protests weakly, but flows with the change of subject when it is presented.]
They were very odd. The Magypsies . . . They were guardians of my world, but my dad said that they'd told him they couldn't bring themselves to care about human lives since they passed by so quickly. The only ones worth considering were the people who had the power to change the fate of the world.
[That had been him. But it wasn't something that needed to be mentioned.]
. . . Um. They were really strange. Not just a little.
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It would just be too much for them to value each and every human. Like if we tried to care about every squirrel that lived in the park or every bird.
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[If they had just cared a little more . . . ]
It's hard for me to understand things from a country's point of view, too, but I can't imagine you not caring for your people, Miss Taiwan. I think you must be a wonderful place to live.
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You're a good kid. I think I understand why we're friends more now. I'll write that down, too.
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Everyone has things to work on, but you probably have less than most people. B-But, really . . . You don't have to write anything about me.
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Um. That's what the pictures will be for, right? If you have time, you can, but . . . you should save your writing first for people who've gone.
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Ah, it's getting late. Don't you have school tomorrow? [ Tomorrow's a Saturday... ]
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