audio | un: hidden

[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

[nichocolatine]

No idea who Tennyson is, so I guess it must be the first one.

[ badou's smile is all wry around the last dregs of his own cigarette, but he isn't nearly as eager to stub it out just yet. (and when he does, it'll go to the bottom of his boot — no reverence either, just habit.) he eyes her where she stands, far enough away that it looks more like a standoff than a conversation, so he takes a few steps closer to offer up an air of intimacy. he leans against one of the taller headstones, hands idle in his pockets. ]

Vanessa, right? I'm Badou. Seems we got a mutual acquaintance in your gravedigging buddy.

[matermali]

[ It seems to be a coin toss on who recognizes the famous poet, but Vanessa has never minded when people had different interests. She's usually quite curious in learning what they like instead, but she doesn't think this man approached her to discuss favored interests.

To hear her first name come out of a veritable stranger's mouth draws a slight squint and an odd half-smile, considering him with a raised eyebrow while exhaling through pursed lips. ]

Vanessa already, and we are not yet acquainted...

[ Perhaps a misstep on his part, but she is forgiving of almost anything. It may be difficult to tell given the way she continues to analyze him, and how she begins to step closer with the slow stride of a predator in its element. The graveyard is as much her territory as anything else in the City by now and she's incredibly light-footed, so she knows where to step to keep from making noise.

Vanessa quite enjoys Heine, and so she's willing to give Badou more opportunities than most people... But she has yet to know if she will enjoy him as well. She'll enjoy herself as much as she can, regardless. ]

Something we are destined to remedy now that you've insisted upon an intimate friendship. Is that why you came here?

iiiii am the latest cries blood

[nichocolatine]

[ oop — already a fuck-up, but that actually isn't all that unexpected considering badou's track record. truthfully, it's a wonder he hasn't already shoved both feet into his mouth by now. ]

My bad. [ his hands ease out from his pockets to lift into the air, palms out in a (hopefully) universal gesture of deference. ] Didn't know you weren't into that. [ he did, to some extent. heine filled him in on what he could, and the general sense of "old fashioned" rang clear even if the words themselves weren't used. it's a dick move on his part, but sometimes the quickest way to know someone is to know all the places they refuse to go. ]

But something like that, yeah. See, Heine has a bad habit of collectin' some pretty dangerous folks. Guess I just got curious.