a_gentle_boy | Entries tagged with nanashi

[While his absence, no doubt, has gone largely unnoticed through the past week, it's possible that there have been a few who have been wondering where the plaintive cries of Love, Peace, and Trust had gone. Luckily, others had taken up the slack where Lucas had been unable.

Rewind time to last Friday. Or last Thursday, actually.

It is 11:45 at night and Lucas is staying up late trying to figure out if the P in PEMDAS stands for parentheses or petunias, both of which make equal sense to him since he can't remember what PEMDAS is used for it sounds vaguely like a geometrical flower arrangement. It is 11:50 and he's now reading what must be Ancient Lebanese why were there triangles in the middle of his letters and what was this about rise over run who was running from what? It is 11:53 and Lucas sighs and closes his textbook and reaches for his empty chocolate wrappers.

...Hold on. That was supposed to be chocolate bars. ...But this wouldn't do at all. He has more homework left and he can barely get it done with the chocolate how is he supposed to manage with just thinking? ...Well. The store is only 6 or 7 minutes away if he hurries on his table. So it is 11:57 and Lucas is scrambling onto his walking table and riding as quickly as he can so he can be done with all of this by 1 in the morning, hopefully.

......

And then it is 12:25 and Lucas is on a stretcher on his way to the hospital because having your vehicle disappear out from under you when you're traveling at 30+ miles an hour is a very good way to get a concussion and a few broken ribs, all the more so when your healing powers disappear with it, too. He wonders if the fairy godmother would have turned the coach back into a pumpkin if Cinderella had still been in it, and then he realizes he's never actually heard that story before and so he goes back to sleep for the next two days. The three days after that are spent in a haze of asking to use the telephone and being told that he wasn't allowed to stress himself and to watch the television instead and then when he's finally released, he needs to spend a day in absolute horror recovering from the shock of picking up the receiver and listening to everyone talking about killing everyone else.

It's Thursday by the time he makes his call.]

.....Hi.

This is Lucas. Um. I'm sorry if I've worried anyone, but I've been in the hospital ... N-Not cause anyone tried to kill me. I didn't even get a letter. Because of something else. I know... I'm sure everyone's asking about their friends, but. I'm going to ask anyway. Mr. Netherlands? Kay? Crowe? Tavros? Everyone.... Are you OK? Can I do anything? As soon as this is over, I'll heal everyone. I promise.

And... everyone, just. Please stop. ... Please.

[action]
[It was difficult to celebrate a holiday under the effects of mind control, no matter how subtle. So he'd postponed his plans, just a few days. The exact date wasn't of much importance to him - they hadn't even had this day in Tazmily - but the spirit of it . . . That was what he wanted to honor.

He holds a single sunflower, the mass of roots and dirt cupped between his hands as he makes his way to a corner of the park he had sought out for this purpose. It may be that it would be gone the next day, but . . . if he could have this for a day, that would be enough. Enough time to sit, to think . . . to remember and to reflect. A large insect of some sort sits atop his shoulder and chitters away curiously. He ignores it, for the time being, and sets the flower down carefully against the grass. He takes ahold of his trowel and begins to dig.

The work is not hard. The hole is made before long, and gently, he lowers the flower, nestling it within the hollow. He pats the dirt down, adjusts the leaves and petals . . . finds a rock and sets it before the golden flower. He begins to speak aloud as he carefully scratches away.]

Little stinkbug... You've recorded the history of my world, right? You remember everything Leder said to us that day. Right before we went to face Porky for the last time. To remind us in case we forgot . . . if we forgot what it is we were fighting for.

So... I want you to record something else, too. Is that OK? ... Something... Something just as important. Not in case I forget. I couldn't ever forget. But because . . . it's something that should always be remembered. No matter how much time passes. A hundred years from now, I want people to remember her name...

She saved the Nowhere Islands. Not me and Boney, or Kumatora, or Duster. If it weren't for her... I would have died a long time ago.

Her name was Hinawa. My mom. Hinawa.

[action 2]
[Sometime later, he sits by himself in front of the rock that reads, 'HINAWA - A loving mother'. The stinkbug is gone. Lucas draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.]

( Happy Mother's Day )

((Either action/conversation can be responded to, though if you have little to no CR with Lucas, I'd prefer you not overhear the second prompt.))

( Preluding events.... )

[action 1]
[Lucas is on his hands and knees, crawling around! In the middle of his yard, in the middle of your yard, in the middle of the sidewalk, and, uh. In the middle of the road, blocking traffic obliviously! His walking table is intelligent enough to stand in front of him so in case any cars come, Lucas is not run over but swerved around, instead. None have so far, though.]

[action 2]
[The scent of the stinkbug is strong in your house! Whether this is because the stinkbug is actually hiding in your house or because Lucas is covered with the stench and is rummaging through your cabinets is up for debate.]

[action 3]
[Lucas is nowhere to be found for this one. Instead, you now have a rather grotesquely large bug crawling on your hand, legs, or if you're feeling particularly adventurous, head and face. If you play this one right, you may become privy to a bizarre and moving tale . . . The stinkbug is the keeper of memories, telling the truth of the story behind the formation of the Nowhere Islands, Lucas's home.]

[voice]
[That night, when all the commotion had died down, Lucas will make a call that he continually toggles between public and private before he finally decides he has nothing to lose.]

So . . . Um. Everyone knows that there's a dance coming up by now, right? ...It sounds like it might be fun. After everything we've gone through . . . maybe it will be a good opportunity to relax and get to know more people. ...I didn't want to go to the last one, but it turned out to be pretty OK.

[After some more awkward hemming and hawing, eventually, Lucas gets to the point.]

I, ah. Actually, I'd like to ask a favor. I-I . . . I'd like to ask.... That, um. It'd be nice if -- . . . Possibly. It's OK if there's no one who can, b-but if anyone could teach me how to dance........

[action 1]

( Lucas attempts to remember how to fight. )

[action 2]

( Lucas attempts to murder half the town. )

Lucas drops his bat and runs to his front yard. If you're anywhere nearby, he'll be running up to you with an expression of severe panic.]

. . . Are you alright?! Are you feeling OK?! You . . . Please say you didn't see the light!
((Lucas's PK Flash has odd effects. It's a burst of psychokinetic energy infused light that alters the brainwaves of those who see it. To be brief, PK Flash causes spontaneous crying to the point where your character is blinded by their own tears, paralysis, which is self-explanatory, feeling strange, which can be interpreted as violent hallucinations and delirium, or instant death. Or nothing, of course. Please don't choose the death option, aha.))

[voice]
I, um. I don't feel so well. . . . How high should a temperature be before you miss school, do you know?. ....... And does anyone know where they sell construction paper?

[action]
[Despite what he announced, Lucas will be wandering around town, hovering around the candy store, the flower store, and the stationery shop. Children of any gender are encouraged to bother him.]

((Additionally, because it is hard to find the children entries amongst all of the private adult ones, if you want me to respond to your entry, link me here and I'll respond.))

[action, dated back a few days]

( Goodbye, Luke. )

1. Alone in the park, Lucas finds the most isolated bench he possibly can and eases into it, still holding the box to his chest. He has an inkling of what's inside. The same reason he had shown Luke where he kept his box . . . Now, though, he simply sits. And allows himself, after a few futile moments, to cry softly.

2. He has calmed down enough to go through the things that had been left to him. Just as with the Netherlands, just as he himself did, Luke had kept notes. Lucas dries his tears, looking through each piece of information carefully. It's hard for him to understand right now, but . . . He will go through everything again when he's in a less harried state of mind. The Westport notes.

3. It had been too late for Luke. But it didn't have to be that way for anyone else. Not if he hurried up with this. Lucas is too shy to take pictures of people, but late into the afternoon, he is in the park with an ancient, half-broken camera, practicing taking pictures of trees and squirrels and snowdrifts . . .

((A bit deliberately less accessible than the usual entry, so I'm going to ask that no more than 3-4 people respond to the first prompt. Thanks.))

[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:

( Lucas attacks your front door with newspapers. )
2:

( Lucas plays piano. )
3:

( Lucas draws 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.]

[public]
[There is fumbling on the phone line for a few seconds and a bit of hesitant breathing, as if the speaker isn't sure whether or not he should say what he's about to say. When he finally gets the words out, though, they are spoken firmly, with confidence.]

I believe him.

I'm not going to ask anyone else to, but . . . I do. I don't think for a second that he can really get us out of here, but I think he's trying to help us. It's not out of selflessness or anything -- There's some reason we can't understand . . . If it makes sense, though, I think . . . I think whatever he's after, it's better for him if we escape than if we stay. It's not for our sake. But I believe him.

We've fought so hard for so long. So when somebody offers to help us for the first time . . . If we just refuse and say it's a trick to hurt us even more -- Isn't that a victory for them, too? We've all been hurt so deeply that our first reaction is to be afraid. . . . I don't want to become like that. I don't want to become someone who's bitter and frightened and always suspicious. I understand -- I'm naive, and I'm stupid. But I've gotten as far as I have by believing in the good of people, and I won't let Mayfield take that away from me.

. . . He said something to me. 'Keep on keeping on'. . . .

[filtered to Crowe, Kay, Luke, and Ness]
[He's chosen the people he wants to speak with carefully. There are so many people he loves and cares for in this place, but . . . He needs a certain type of person for this. And after carefully considering for another few moments, Lucas slowly and deliberately filters away from his mother. There are some things he doesn't want her to know.]

I have something to show you. It might not be a good time now -- When all of this is over, though, I'd like to ask you to come over when you can. Thanks.

[public]
It . . . It looks like the town's done exactly what we all thought it would. Everyone! Please, if you're hurt, call me and I'll do whatever I can do to keep you safe. My name is Lucas -- Ask for me and I'll be there as soon as I can. Even if you're only afraid you might get hurt, I can create a shield for you if you're physically or magically threatened, enough so that you can survive a few blows.

[action]
[If Lucas knows you at all, be prepared for him to make a pit stop by your home as he rushes around town on his table to see if anyone needs his help. If your name is Hinawa, be prepared for him to be attached to your side 24/7 whenever he isn't out.]

[filtered to you know whom]
. . . N-No. No, that's not what I asked for at all. It's not what I wanted. It's not . . . ! Please don't tell me you're really here . . .

[Everything is backdated to Christmas Day.]

[Ring, ring! It is 6:00 in the morning and there is someone buzzing at your door.

The day after Thanksgiving, Lucas was awakened by the sound of the telephone. Upon picking it up, he was greeted by a friendly disembodied voice thanking him for his application as a paper-boy. He'd be starting tomorrow!

. . .

The rest of the day was spent in anxiety about what he was going to do. And seeing as how he was Lucas, he came to the inevitable conclusion that he'd better make the best job of it he could. This is the reason why your doorbell is being rung at an ungodly hour -- If it's possible for a buzzer to sound polite, it does. Lucas will wait with a cheerful smile on your front porch until someone shows up to answer the door, after which he'll promptly launch into a speech that sounds as if it has been nervously rehearsed for hours. In the event that no one does, he will leave after two rings. Morning people may notice that there's no bike nearby, but there is a table meandering about your front lawn. The speech runs as follows, though you can cut him off at any time.]

Good morning, [mister/miss]! My name is Lucas. We're not acquainted, but I wanted to let you know that I'll be responsible for bringing your newspapers in the morning now. I'll do everything I can to make my delivery as quiet and punctual as possible.

Thanks very much, and I look forward to serving you!

[In the event that he knows you.]

O-Oh! Hi! Um. Ah. Oh, I have to change my speech.