Pre-θ 8 - Forgiveness
[ooc: Before the Recursive Mind plot.]
[his shoulder twinges slightly, making him wince every now and then from the pain emanating from the wound every time he moves his arm in any single way. he really wishes it would just hurry up and heal; he rather likes having full range of motion for both arms. after checking the bar, he figured that it's either the library or the kitchen that he should check next but he decides to be contrary to such thoughts on the off-chance that Oliver didn't go there and headed to the forest instead. and that's where he is now, dodging branches and listening to the river burbling softly off in the distance.
well...he's listening for anything, really: the rustle of leaves, the crunching of twigs underfoot, anything.
and on the off-chance that anything making those noises hears him in any way, he decides to speak while he keeps an eye out for any movement. his voice is in its normal timbre but with a touch of gentleness in its tone.]
Ollie, if you can hear me--and I really hope you do otherwise this would sound incredibly silly and ridiculous--I need you to listen. I mean, it's not like I don't talk out loud to myself half the time anyway, but it's always nice that someone's on the receiving end of things I've got to say. Like now, for instance.
Hopefully just from the sound of my voice and my being here is enough. I'm all right, just like I said I'd be. But the one thing I didn't check before I left was how well you were. I need you to see that everything is all right--and that you can come home. That's why I'm here, speaking to the trees and flowers and the river nearby, and if you're not here, I'll go entertain an entire library of books next. Maybe I ought to have gone there first, but I kind of had a feeling you might not have gone there for any particular long length of time, not after those creatures had invaded.
I want you to come home, Ollie.
[his shoulder twinges slightly, making him wince every now and then from the pain emanating from the wound every time he moves his arm in any single way. he really wishes it would just hurry up and heal; he rather likes having full range of motion for both arms. after checking the bar, he figured that it's either the library or the kitchen that he should check next but he decides to be contrary to such thoughts on the off-chance that Oliver didn't go there and headed to the forest instead. and that's where he is now, dodging branches and listening to the river burbling softly off in the distance.
well...he's listening for anything, really: the rustle of leaves, the crunching of twigs underfoot, anything.
and on the off-chance that anything making those noises hears him in any way, he decides to speak while he keeps an eye out for any movement. his voice is in its normal timbre but with a touch of gentleness in its tone.]
Ollie, if you can hear me--and I really hope you do otherwise this would sound incredibly silly and ridiculous--I need you to listen. I mean, it's not like I don't talk out loud to myself half the time anyway, but it's always nice that someone's on the receiving end of things I've got to say. Like now, for instance.
Hopefully just from the sound of my voice and my being here is enough. I'm all right, just like I said I'd be. But the one thing I didn't check before I left was how well you were. I need you to see that everything is all right--and that you can come home. That's why I'm here, speaking to the trees and flowers and the river nearby, and if you're not here, I'll go entertain an entire library of books next. Maybe I ought to have gone there first, but I kind of had a feeling you might not have gone there for any particular long length of time, not after those creatures had invaded.
I want you to come home, Ollie.