a_gentle_boy | Entries tagged with the netherlands

[voice]
[Lucas's voice is quiet, subdued. Indistinct. He isn't speaking to anyone in particular more than he is speaking to himself.]

It looks like she got what she wanted. ...He never would have let her go. Not like this. I wonder... who helped her. ...I wonder if she could have believed that we might have helped her. But, I guess... she suffered for long enough, didn't she...

[His voice firms up.]

We have to bury her. Miss Ciel, can you do what you did with Mr. Boris? Or since I don't think anyone would punish us for it this time... Burying is probably just fine, too. We can't just keep her there.

For everyone who doesn't know... Her name was Samantha Achewood. Not Jane. She was 24 years old and she was born in Fairfield, C-T. Her sisters were Susan and Lisa. Her favorite color was blue; she was a musician and she loved to play the violin. She attended Julliard. That was who she really was. And that's as much of a eulogy as I can give. She was herself for the last few hours... I should have found out more about her.

[still voice, as filtered as he can make it]
What she did say... At least, I think she confirmed it. She was surprised that I was able to guess.

Lucy is Zemekis. Everything in this world, he created. It's all fake. Just like we've thought. It was set up to give the survivors of the war somewhere to take refuge. That note about the simulation... It must be true.

((Responses will probably come a day late, but I will happily backtag when I get access to a computer again. Sorry, guys.))

[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........

[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.]

[filtered to Vince]
Mist -- . . . Vince? If you're free sometime soon . . . Sometime really soon, preferably. And, um. If you don't mind having to pull off a small miracle. And . . . If you promise not to yell at me or anything when you see me.

I really need a haircut.

[filtered to Luke, Wy, Shiraasan, Lyn, Ness, and Duster]
Are you all OK? Did you make it through the night?

[open call]
Did anyone find out anything interesting at the party? I think I might've gotten something . . . I don't know if it's important. It seems as if Billy is nice as long as you play along -- He likes fire a lot, and he likes it when you don't mind about him setting them. If you say anything about it, though, he gets upset really quickly.

It might be nothing. I don't know. If anyone runs into him, though . . . try and humor him. . . . Maybe things would have gone differently if I agreed.

[For anyone who runs into him, Lucas now dons a stylish hat pulled down low over his face, and a strip of cloth cut as a mask wrapped around the top of his head with a single eyehole for his right eye. If anyone asks, he is playing cops and robbers. He bumps into things a lot.]

((I apologize in advance for being a drama whore. Indulge me. I am sorry.))

[The inhalation of Luke's hallucinatory gas has left Lucas in a terrible state. This is what he sees. The island of Tanetane . . . The island of nightmares and delusions. And though he knows that the images he sees must be false, he cannot help but succumb to his dark fears nonetheless. In fact . . . his mental delusions are so strong that anyone who comes near him may, perhaps, catch a momentary glimpse of his nightmares. Is this due to the gas lingering around his body or is this because of what is buried deep within his psychic mind?]

[Scenario 1]
Lucas has opened your mailbox and is rifling through the letters. The expression on his face is one of tormented anguish. Whispers can be heard if he is approached closely, though they do not appear to be made in his voice. "The boy named Lucas . . . The boy named Lucas . . . The boy named Lucas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " There is a terrifying scream. It is not his.

[Scenario 2]
Lucas is shivering and shuddering as he takes his bath. His bath appears to be a dirty puddle of mud in the park. Or a dirty pool of water on the side of the street. Or a septic tank. Or a poison swamp. A pool of knives. A pool of nothing. Nothing after nothing after nothing after nothing.

[Scenario 3]
He's running towards you with a baseball bat. "Run!" His voice is harsh as he engages the massive smiling face beaming balefully from midair. Will you fight with him? Will you help him? He needs to get home before supper. Hinawa is coming home for supper. When is Hinawa coming home? Come home, Hinawa. Come home.

[Scenario 4]
He's running towards you with a baseball bat. " . . . Get away!" He swings at you. He wants to kill you. Let him kill you. You should die.

[Scenario 5]
Lucas is huddled, knees to his chest, on the ground in the middle of the street. All of his things are spread out around him as he holds his hands over his ears and rocks back and forth. Approaching him, you may see a shadowy image and hear a torrent of harsh, angry, deriding words. Why are you coming near him? What are you doing? What did you do to him? Huh? . . . . . . . . I did it to him? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . No. Don't go near him. Don't go near him. You did it. Don't go near her. Don't go near her. Don't go near her. Don't go near her. Lucas did it. Lucas did it. Lucas did it. Lucas did it.

( Cut for Length; Mother 3 Spoilers )

[Lucas has a package! It is very large and it is wrapped up all nicely on his driveway, blocking the passage of any cars. He wonders momentarily what he could have possibly gotten back until realizing that he only has one 'possession' that's shaped like this. After spending about twenty minutes carefully removing it from its packaging, Lucas beams at the extremely odd . . . thing.]

Hi. It's nice to see you again.

[With that, he gets on. And is instantly dragged away.]

W-Wha . . . Uwahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! S-S-Slowwww d-doooooown!

[He hangs on for dear life.
Mr. Saturn's Tea Table is rampaging around the town! Lucas has forgotten how to control this thing and is liable to smash into anybody and everything. It's a little smaller than a car and seats four. Here is a picture although it's larger than that in canon. Here is a video demonstrating it running things over.]

Sorry! . . . Ah, get out of the way! . . . I-I'll heal you later . . . ! Tea Table! You've got to calm down!

( Lucas finally finds an instrument he can play )

Do you hear me call to you? Can you even hear my heart's cry?
Still I call out to the wind . . . Even as it flows on by, for
I believe our dreams can still come true. I'll always keep my faith and trust in you

Even if I'm a fool, I'll always feel the same about you. I believe in friends and laughter and the wonders love can do; I believe in second chances and that's why I still believe in you.

. . . . . . i . . . believe in second chances . . . . . . .

[Later that night, he returns to the park and sings his song quietly with a good sense of pitch. He is wearing his school clothes from last year. They are too small for him.
Time moves on.]

((Feel free to comment while Lucas is practicing on the piano as well. He will sound pretty awful unless he's playing this song.))

Stop it! Stop going! Stop . . . !

There's . . . There's so much blood, I -- [Lucas breaks off and seems to gasp for breath for a few moments. He is, in fact, covered with the stuff despite not having exchanged anything at all, having just finished helping NIc.] The sidewalk . . . Everything . . . Even on the trees. It's just like when . . .

[The boy suddenly seems to snap back to reality.]

Who's a doctor? Who's a nurse? Who's a healer through whatever means? Please, get uptown and help the people leaving the post office! Anyone who's already lost something -- Find a medic! You'll bleed to death if you don't get it treated! If you see anyone who's lost a leg, get them help first! Getting the blood vessels in your thigh severed is really dangerous. No one should try to wait it out!

I . . . I think . . . I-I don't know. If they're doing this . . . will it come back if we die . . . ?

((OoC: Just for clarification, Lucas is overreacting. There 's a lot of blood, but probably not as bad as he's making it out to be. This is the first time he's seen it in such large quantities -- and gushing out from someone while he's trying to heal them. He's still a kid, after all.))

EDIT:
((For any replies after this edit, Lucas will be over his initial shock and can be found near by the post office if anyone needs healing to prevent from bleeding to death. You may still reply to the initial contents of this post if you'd like.))

( Lucas's List (for the interested) )

. . . . . . . . .

I'm sorry for what happened. I didn't mean any of it, of course, b-but. It still happened . . . And I still did what I did. I don't know if I can really apologize enough. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry . . .

[There is sniffling for a few moments before Lucas seems to calm down.]

I don't know if I can make up for it . . . But I heard people are still hurt after everything that happened. I can try to heal you if you want . . . I know people will ask, but it's kinda . . . it's magic. And I can fix blindness, too . . .

I'm really, really sorry.

[After this call, Lucas can be found sitting on his front porch looking extremely dejected. He is aimlessly throwing a yo-yo back and forth, and although he's not doing anything particularly impressive, he seems to have some skill.]

. . . . . . . . . . .

Hi, everyone.

As foreman of the section of the factory responsible for producing canned beets, I'm pleased to announce that we've pretty much got things covered for the rest of the week. I think we're about 2000 cans of beets over where we need to be. In light of your hard work over the last few months as members of the Glorious Amazing Incredibly Happy People of Um, Prola . . Prolatarines That Hate America, I think it's fair that everyone who works in the beet-produce section should get the next few days off to think about how much you love communism and how happy we all are and how you want to stay out of trouble for sure definitely.

If anyone needs me, I'm going to be, um . . . somewhere far away, I think. And if anyone asks why you're not at the factory, remember that you have permission from your foreman to stay indoors and not cause trouble until this all blows over. I mean, until the end of the week.

And if I make any more telephone announcements after this that sound stupid, you should ignore it.

[for household]
What is that horrible racket at 5:30 in the morning?
If you stumble downstairs to check out the noise, you can find Lucas standing on top of a chair yanking at the smoke detector in an increasing state of panic as time passes and the noise continues. On the stove is a pan of frying bacon that wasn't actually burned when the smoke detector began to go off, but certainly is now.]

[for Free]
In lieu of breakfast, there is, instead, a large steak meal sitting on the table around lunchtime with a small bouquet of flowers in a vase.

[for the Netherlands]
The doorbell rings at approximately 3:00 in the afternoon. No one will be there when the door is answered, but there is a wrapped present, a card, and a bouquet of sunflowers. The present is a small stack of artwork featuring Miffy in generally cute poses, including sitting in a field of flowers, having a picnic with assorted other animals, and tucked into bed sleeping peacefully. They seem to improve, skill-wise, as they progress chronologically. The card reads as follows.

( [Cut for mushiness] )

[and finally, for everyone]
Um. It looks like the same thing that happened on Mother's Day is happening again, but backwards, right?

. . . Does anyone know if, maybe there's a Children's Day? That might be fun. Actually, Mr. America said his birthday is coming up soon, right, which means that it's a pretty big holiday for this world, too. Are there any other big ones we should all know about? And are there any really cool holidays from other worlds that people want to share? Maybe we could celebrate them together even if the town doesn't.

[open call]
. . . Hello? Um. Is this . . . Is this the right number? This is Mayfield Elementary . . . ?

I'd, um. I'd like to call in sick. Lucas . . . Last name? Ushiromiya. . . . . . . . . There isn't any -- A-Ah. Lucas . . . Lucas Fawlin . . . Grade 7. No, I just haven't been feeling well . . . Ah. Mostly fever . . . . . . . . A hundred and um. Three or four. U-Up my . . . No. No. My mouth . . . A few days. No. I haven't seen the nurse . . . Um. Not yet . . . My parents . . . ? They're not home. And I . . . I don't want to bother them . . . I don't know. I . . . I really don't think I can. I don't . . . But I -- I know, but. It's just . . . I'm really not . . .

. . .

O-OK. OK. I'll try . . . I'm sorry for the trouble . . .

[Ten minutes after this call is made, an unsteady figure walks out the steps of 846 Goldberg, his face flushed and his eyes glossy. Twenty minutes after that, the boy slowly begins to kneel to the sidewalk somewhere on the route to school, but fails to make it all the way before collapsing forward. He does not get back up.]

((Feel free to make responses to the phone call or anytime that Lucas is spotted on the street, either after he faints or before.
EDIT: For continuity's sake, I'm going to refer to Margot as finding Lucas first if I make any reference to this simply because she had the first thread. I wasn't expecting so many replies; thanks everyone! He'll still remember everyone's kindness to him, though.))

[He awoke in a bed. That was strange. He had gone to sleep on a chair, having successfully made it around the neighborhood to visit anyone who was ailing. The Netherlands hadn't yet returned when he'd snuck back into the house, pretending as if he had never left in the first place. What was even stranger was that he was apparently in his pajamas and . . . looking out the window . . . There was no haze. There was no rubble. There were no hazmat men. There were no corpses.

. . .

He slowly walks downstairs as if in a trance and sees the familiar sight of his kitchen. Tears immediately coming to his eyes, the boy rushes to the telephone.]

Hello?! Is this Mayfield? Am I . . . Am I back?! Did we win? Did . . . Did we all make it? Is everyone. Is everyone OK? Mr. Netherlands? Mr. Netherlands, did we beat them?

Is this real . . . ? If this is really Mayfield, someone please answer me. There were so many things we found in Westport. And last night -- Last night, that voice. Richard Grey's last message. You all heard it too, right?

EDIT:
Kay's right.
We all found clues over there that everyone should see. I have a copy of the note that Kay and I found in the library and the one that Miss Alice and I found in the car. If anyone wants to come see them, that's fine. We should all get together sometime soon.

Um.

. . .

Carry the . . . 2, right? And then . . . Hm. That's not right. Maybe I have to do long division . . . Or calculus? I heard someone mention calculus before, but I don't know how it's any different from calculation . . . Is that when I put the 4 underneath the bracket . . . ? And make it so that there are enough 4s to go into 9394 . . . And if there aren't enough 4s . . . . . . . . . . . Um. You take them from here. And erase it and use the numbers over here because of the . . . Principle of Something Equality . . . Which means . . . And I am under 18 years of age and I don't know what the rest mean so I check all these boxes . . . . . And multiply by this number . . . . . . . . . . ......... Oh.

Gosh. It looks like the government owes me $39,918,285. Maybe I should go buy some more popcorn after all.

[private, unhackable because it's an action]
Huh? . . . Your wallet? Um. No, I don't think so. Don't you usually keep it in your pocket? . . . Take it? Why would I -- I don't even really like using money at all . . . Ah . . . B-But I haven't used any -- Um. I really haven't . . . No, I didn't spend any money at the dance, 'Dad'. I wasn't there for long at all . . . What?! I-I'm not lying! I'm really not. I didn't see . . . I don't know where your wallet was! I didn't even . . .

B-But. But that's not fair! I haven't touched any of your th -- I'm not! Mogget? Mogget's not my pet. You can't 'take him away'; he doesn't even live here half the . . . What? -- No! That's stupid! I won't. I won't! And you can't make me! . . . S-Shut up! You're just a stupid drone! Shut up! Shut up!

[The door to his house slams open as Lucas storms outside . People passing by may notice.]

[public]
[A little bit later, a public phone call is made. Lucas sounds very much like he is holding back tears.]

. . . . . Excuse me, everyone. I . . . I, um. I need to borrow money . . . -hic- Um. My . . . My 'dad' lost his wallet. And h-he thinks I took it . . . He said, um. Until . . . -hic- I gave it . . . gave it back I wouldn't be, um . . . I wouldn't be allowed to . . . -hic- -sniff- go out . . . or .....

[The voice trails away indistinctly.]

((Ah, sorry, Crowe-mun for not asking you about this but are you OK with this? If you're not, I'll get rid of it. I just thought it'd be a good way to sum up some of the things Lucas has been doing since his last post. Sorry.))