Twenty-Ninth PSI

[a_gentle_boy]

[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.]

Comments

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

No, no, no need to apologize.

[ He reaches out to tip the boy's chin up, tweaking a thumb over his cheek in an affectionate manner. ]

Let's see the drawing, then, shall we?

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[He blinks a little at the touch before he slowly turns his sketchbook around to face the man.

It was one of his better attempts, honestly. He had lain still for so long that Lucas had had plenty of time to erase and modify and tweak, but it was clear he had had some problems with the perspective. The man's legs were at the wrong angles just enough to be noticeable. Overall, it was only slightly above average for a child his age. He'd only started a year ago, after all.

He had a very good talent for drawing hair, though.]

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

[ Vincent takes a moment to examine the drawing, tilting his head this way and that, and chuckles. ]

You're off to a good start, lad. Certainly a better one than myself, at your age. My governess had fits when I was at the easel.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Do you really think so? Thanks.

[Lucas's shy smile grows wider as he turns the sketchbook back around and closes it. ... Somehow, this person's manner is very calming.]

Does that mean you're an artist for real, mister?

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

[ This time, he outright laughs, a deep, warm sound. ]

Goodness, no. My governess would still have fits if she saw me at an easel. I was never much good at it. Better with still-life, I suppose. I fancy you're already much more talented than I am.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

A-Ah . . . I'm sure that's not true, but it's nice of you to say so. I've only been practicing for about a year.

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

With natural talent like yours, just a year of practice is better than a lifetime for someone with none. [ He smiles encouragingly at the boy. ] Of course, two years of practice is twice as good. You'll keep practicing, won't you?

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Natural talent. What. If Vincent's intent is to make Lucas flush as red as the stripes on his shirt, he's succeeded.]

O-Of course! I never had time for hobbies like this at home, but now . . . it's not something I'd give up easily. As long as I remember I like it, I mean.

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

[ As long as he remembers? For the first time since their meeting, Vincent's smile dims and his brow knits slightly. ]

Why wouldn't you remember that you like it? I should think that's not something you'd forget.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . Well. You don't remember things about Mayfield when you go home. And if you don't go home . . . you're stuck as a drone, right?

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

[ His expression turns thoughtful. ]

... I see. That is... unfortunate. [ It doesn't take long for him to summon up a smile again, this one reassuring. ] You'll just have to make the best of it while you can, then, hmm?

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

That's right. And . . .

I didn't say it was for certain, after all. When I go home . . . it will be because we've defeated the people who made this town once and for all.

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

[ And just as quickly, his smile warms again to genuinity. He reaches down to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately. ]

That's the spirit. Shame on me for being so gloomy, hmm? [ A laugh. ]

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I was the one who brought it up in the first place. Sorry. . . . And I'm sorry again that you sat for so long for me. It was really nice of you.

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

You apologize far too often for such a young boy. [ He chuckles. ]

How about this: some afternoon when you'd like to draw again, come by my house, and we can work on your poses.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

S-Sorry. It's a habit.

[Whoops.]

R-Really? I don't want to impose on you if it's too much trouble, mister . . . You don't have to take the time for something so silly.

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

[ He makes a quiet tsk'ing noise. ] My father used to say things like that; told me I was silly for liking things. He was an unpleasant man, all business, but he was a great man. [ You can tell he's quite sincere; there's a fondness to his smile and admiration in his eyes. ]

But I'm glad I'm not quite like him. No boy should have to grow into his father, see? Pursuing one's interests is hardly silly. We'll have lunch some afternoon, and you can draw to your heart's content.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas is quiet at that for a few moments. His own father . . . He loved him dearly, but he had failed him in many different ways, too. The man he would have liked to grow into . . . was someone else he had to come to know. Here.]

If you're really sure, then I'd appreciate it a lot, mister. Ah, I haven't even introduced myself yet. My name is Lucas.

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

[ He offers his hand for a proper handshake. ]

Vincent Phantomhive. It's a pleasure, Lucas.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas takes it with a pleasant smile.]

It's nice to meet you, Mr. Phantomhive. If you decide you'd rather not at any time, I won't mind at all.

[leporariusnero.livejournal.com]

Not to worry. 1665 Nelson; come by any afternoon with an empty stomach.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I'll call you in advance, Mr. Phantomhive. I wouldn't want to surprise you at a bad time.