Twenty-Ninth PSI
[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: Every morning, early morning, Lucas gets on his tea table and delivers his paper. He's still getting used to the hang of it, though. Maybe he'll accidentally smash it into your door, at which point, he'll hurriedly get off to check to see if he damaged anything. Most of the time, he hasn't.
2: After school, he practices piano alone in the music room. By this point, he can be eavesdropped upon without anyone wanting to forbid him from ever touching an instrument again. The songs he plays are strangely melancholy.
3: In his free time, he sits in the park or in his house and practices his sketching. Most of the time, he's drawing his friends, so perhaps you'll run across him drawing 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.]
[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: Every morning, early morning, Lucas gets on his tea table and delivers his paper. He's still getting used to the hang of it, though. Maybe he'll accidentally smash it into your door, at which point, he'll hurriedly get off to check to see if he damaged anything. Most of the time, he hasn't.
2: After school, he practices piano alone in the music room. By this point, he can be eavesdropped upon without anyone wanting to forbid him from ever touching an instrument again. The songs he plays are strangely melancholy.
3: In his free time, he sits in the park or in his house and practices his sketching. Most of the time, he's drawing his friends, so perhaps you'll run across him drawing 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.]