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[matermali]

( cw; cannabis )

[ There is no softness to the voice that murmurs onto the network in the midst of the night when people should be sleeping. Those sweet souls are not her concern if they don't wish to hear. She offers no comfort, but a reminder of what's been lost—what can still be taken.

In doing so, the woman's raspy words creep out from beneath the shadows with a voice that drags—no, it crawls—over ceaselessly hot coals. In its shudder to whisper out a poem borrowed from home, there is a smolder always bordering on a choked gasp. But no hurry, no hurry. Where do you have to be? ]

Old Yew which graspeth at the stones...that name the under-lying dead; Thy fibres net the dreamless head, thy roots are wrapt about the bones.

[ To that, a pause that looms with omen. ]

The seasons bring the flower again, and bring the firstling to the flock; And in the dusk of thee, the clock beats out the little lives of men.

[ Now, a strange yearning nearly begins to dissipate the smoke that seems to scorch her throat.

Hush, take a moment. Take a breath; hold it. Feel the shiver of a fingernail at the nape of your neck, feel it trace the curve of your ear to borrow your attention. Only just. No, don't turn. Don't touch. Just listen; the whisper can still singe. ]

O not for thee the glow, the bloom...who changest not in any gale, nor branding summer suns avail, to touch thy thousand years of gloom.

And gazing on thee, sullen tree, sick for thy stubborn hardihood; I seem to fail from out my blood...and grow incorporate into thee.

[ For a time, it seems that may be all. Then, in the same hush she speaks with a more particular address: ]

I hear that we have been denied the ephemeral — to exist endlessly within a perverse mirror of God’s image. Here, nature should protest. Instead it menaces with its silence.

[ There is a silence of her own while Vanessa takes a drag to sigh out a thin stream of smoke into the evening air. Her voice now drops so low it grates and pinches too close, like gravel against tender feet. Tickling whispers are gone; they flee the weighted melancholy that persists. ]

We carry on within a dollhouse between worlds. Do not be tempted by its pretty trinkets, lest you truly be cursed to wander the demimonde forevermore.

[ Denial still rules paramount over the rumor of immortality, but the lack of bodies is an...unsettling implication. ]

...The graves lie empty.

Comments

[heeroics]

[ Heero would agree - gatherings are too crowded for his personal taste, but a mission is a mission. ]

a library.

[ does the stranger on the network mean to write all the books by hand?

well, those aren't details Heero needs to worry about. if such a sanctum can be achieved, he sees the potential advantage.

nor would he mind a quiet place to mind his own business and learn new material. ]

all buildings here are free for our use. one could be repurposed.

[matermali]

[ By 'library' she thinks more of a room with a bookshelf and a couch, so it's a very generous term. There is some knowledge, or at least some culture, that she could donate, of course. Perhaps copied transcript of the meetings could be stored. Vanessa suspects that if they are here long enough, others may want something to occupy their minds, rather than remain vexed for lack of clues (or company).

Hopefully they won't be here long enough for it to matter. ]

It seems that if a space has been created for private use, it remains left alone. Though I don't know for how long it would remain if left unoccupied.

[ She could experiment with a small bedroom, perhaps, if that knowledge isn't already in the meeting transcripts. ]

Merely a thought. Hardly a priority, I understand.

[heeroics]

i disagree.

information may be the only means we have to fight back.

[matermali]

[ Good, because she was only being polite. ]

If I am to trust what I have heard, then not only do we have individuals from differing years within our company, but different realms as well.

There may be others who wish to impart their knowledge, or even art, to set loose bundled nerves.

[ Or simply leave some mark that they existed. This city makes it difficult to feel complete in any way (not that she would be overly familiar with the sensation), and so far she seems to be finding broken people. Their pain may translate to something positive, if time should happen to drag on. ]