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@DONQUIXOT3, video (free for all, really)
[ let those wounds heal and come clean--to everyone, angela had told her.
well. the wounds won't heal for some time, as many as there are, but she fears they never will 'til she does the latter. but it's hard, it's difficult, and there are many more who have not even thought about it... such a possibility is ever in the back of one's mind, of disappearing as althea had done, as gregor and roland and gebura, as the young ken amada and so many more--
but no one really stops to think about it until it happens. their population has dwindled, month by month, without a word.
the background is colorful and a myriad of various crafts, not her own room at home (home, what a funny concept it is to call such here, and yet--) but at the host club of which she works. don quixote is not here to advertise her space nor is she here to show off some new craft, and everything from the oversized sweater she wears to the attempt at a bright smile despite the darkness under her eyes speaks to those even who may have met her once that something isn't quite right today. she's always a cheerful, upbeat girl to any she meets, any she passes or knows,
just not today. ]
Ahem! Kehm. Good day to thee all, new faces and old. I am Don Quixote, holder of several positions and jobs both here and in the world I hail from; it is alright if we have yet to meet, but prithee do not retire just yet! I have something I wish to speak to thee about... something that is quite important, and shall perhaps change the way thy time here is spent.
[ ... huuuuf. okay. ]
Some months ago, perhaps four hence, I found myself upon the train as if I had died -- and I can assure thee, as one who has died purposefully before, it was the same but different. With my return, I found I had gained many new memories and experiences... as if I had gone back to my world and lived it, from the very moment I had left. Those who were here still appeared and acted as they ought there, without a word about this city, this world, and... in truth--
I did not recall this city whatsoever when I was gone from it and remembered my time only once I had returned.
[ shot out, without a pause save the stumble before, and don holds the gaze of her device a moment before exhaling. ]
To those whom I lied to, I am sorry. It was not my intention to hurt thee, nor to give false hope unduly, but I did not want any to think their time here meaningless simply because one does not remember it. I am certain there must be a way that we may-- we may keep them, or to leave our mark upon the world in hopes of jogging our memories should we find ourselves in the same circumstance, just as others have left theirs with pictures, with scratches in tables and walls, and-- and so on! But... I do not know, so I only wished to be honest and frank. For it is only once we are armed with knowledge that may we be able to solve a problem, or so I am told.
[ ... and she wanted to come clean, too. for herself. it's a lot easier like this than doing it one on one, she finds, not having to worry about the other's reaction so soon, though she shrinks a little all the same. ]
I am not the only one who has experienced this coming and going, that I know for certain, but I understand if it may sound unbelievable, or that one may wish to deny it. Do what comforts thee best, but know that what I say is true -- and allow this space to be one in which we may exchange ideas to ensure that these memories of ours last beyond our time spent here.
[ and,
as tempting as it is just to close off completely and throw herself back into her work without further replies, she'll still very much be around. for better or worse. ]
well. the wounds won't heal for some time, as many as there are, but she fears they never will 'til she does the latter. but it's hard, it's difficult, and there are many more who have not even thought about it... such a possibility is ever in the back of one's mind, of disappearing as althea had done, as gregor and roland and gebura, as the young ken amada and so many more--
but no one really stops to think about it until it happens. their population has dwindled, month by month, without a word.
the background is colorful and a myriad of various crafts, not her own room at home (home, what a funny concept it is to call such here, and yet--) but at the host club of which she works. don quixote is not here to advertise her space nor is she here to show off some new craft, and everything from the oversized sweater she wears to the attempt at a bright smile despite the darkness under her eyes speaks to those even who may have met her once that something isn't quite right today. she's always a cheerful, upbeat girl to any she meets, any she passes or knows,
just not today. ]
Ahem! Kehm. Good day to thee all, new faces and old. I am Don Quixote, holder of several positions and jobs both here and in the world I hail from; it is alright if we have yet to meet, but prithee do not retire just yet! I have something I wish to speak to thee about... something that is quite important, and shall perhaps change the way thy time here is spent.
[ ... huuuuf. okay. ]
Some months ago, perhaps four hence, I found myself upon the train as if I had died -- and I can assure thee, as one who has died purposefully before, it was the same but different. With my return, I found I had gained many new memories and experiences... as if I had gone back to my world and lived it, from the very moment I had left. Those who were here still appeared and acted as they ought there, without a word about this city, this world, and... in truth--
I did not recall this city whatsoever when I was gone from it and remembered my time only once I had returned.
[ shot out, without a pause save the stumble before, and don holds the gaze of her device a moment before exhaling. ]
To those whom I lied to, I am sorry. It was not my intention to hurt thee, nor to give false hope unduly, but I did not want any to think their time here meaningless simply because one does not remember it. I am certain there must be a way that we may-- we may keep them, or to leave our mark upon the world in hopes of jogging our memories should we find ourselves in the same circumstance, just as others have left theirs with pictures, with scratches in tables and walls, and-- and so on! But... I do not know, so I only wished to be honest and frank. For it is only once we are armed with knowledge that may we be able to solve a problem, or so I am told.
[ ... and she wanted to come clean, too. for herself. it's a lot easier like this than doing it one on one, she finds, not having to worry about the other's reaction so soon, though she shrinks a little all the same. ]
I am not the only one who has experienced this coming and going, that I know for certain, but I understand if it may sound unbelievable, or that one may wish to deny it. Do what comforts thee best, but know that what I say is true -- and allow this space to be one in which we may exchange ideas to ensure that these memories of ours last beyond our time spent here.
[ and,
as tempting as it is just to close off completely and throw herself back into her work without further replies, she'll still very much be around. for better or worse. ]
this is what we call an intervallo
I know... of one who has physical evidence of it, in fact. If thee would allow this one to call her...
[ so to speak. sigh. she's getting a ping ready-- ]
@Kromer
Prithee, speak and show thine experience with coming and going, if thee would. I... require thy aid, loathe as I am to say so.
hey girl heeeey... video @Kromer
oh.
she doesn't really like going on video, but alright—it'll be easier to show it than taking a couple of awkward pictures. )
Sure, sure... I hope you're not easily scandalized, Mr. Louis.
( because she's unbuttoning her blouse with one hand, letting to drop to the floor—she's home, in her bathroom, so the video is her reflection in the mirror, and there's very clearly a long, thin scar that goes from her left hip to her right shoulder. there's other scars too here and there, on her arms and body, but that one—along with one on her left upper arm—seem to be significantly newer in comparison. the former moreso, being just a few months versus the half-year the other one is.
kromer traces it with the tips of her fingers to highlight it, cackling softly. she loves her scars. )
This beauty only appeared once I got back from home, same way Don Quixote here said. Waking up on that train, not a single missing memory, but knowing way more than when I last fell asleep. Which, by the way, is that I got killed! Hence the bisection scar, see?
no subject
... The quiet laughter is unsettling. He might offer some kind of awkward condolences if not for that. )
I see.
( In the key of "holy shit." )
Then— you remember your death as well? ( A soft shake of his head. ) That scar seems as though it would be difficult to fabricate in such a short time... it certainly does lend credence to the theory that we can in fact travel back and forth from this place in some way. It's certainly the explanation I prefer, even if our memories don't remain intact.
... Thank you for the vivid demonstration.