[OPEN] Answering a call.
Characters: Fugue (fugue_angel), OPEN to all
Date/Time: Today, after receiving a strange dream
Location: Park Island, The City Without Walls
Rating: TBD. May change depending on various interactions and/or possible introduction of meta info.
Summary: Fugue comes out of hiding after receiving a strange dream. What awaits him now?
Note: Each thread will be ( Read more... )
Date/Time: Today, after receiving a strange dream
Location: Park Island, The City Without Walls
Rating: TBD. May change depending on various interactions and/or possible introduction of meta info.
Summary: Fugue comes out of hiding after receiving a strange dream. What awaits him now?
Note: Each thread will be ( Read more... )
This time, she hesitated. Then, she drew her hand away, and her eyes wandered away from it, down to the floor.
Perhaps it was all that emotion she got. Those feelings of regret, of fear, and of emptiness. Since she had arrived here, she'd had no more than a twinge of annoyance here and there. Maybe she wasn't even aware she could have such feelings. Or maybe it was that sudden, incredible drive to learn about herself, and to know who she was. It was strange, too, that she wanted to know so bad when she got so many ominous feelings when she thought of relearning it. And to think, her first motivation would be a dream? This only surprised Data a little bit- just a little bit. After all, it was expected that no one could worry over something like her when they were trying to fend for themselves both for living essentials and their own pasts.
...worry? Why would they worry? She shook her head mentally, clearing the thought away and thinking on it no more, even if it disturbed her a little bit- just a little bit. She looked back towards the journal. It didn't matter what she dreamed about. Life would go on as normal, as normal was for Edensphere. She wanted to make an entry now, after being quiet in general, asking what others thought? That was just silly. Dreams were dreams. No one person correctly interpret her dream. Why would they even want to? Besides, she hardly remembered it now. Only the key phrases she had heard still rang in her head, making her heart beat just a little faster than usual.
And yet, she felt she needed condolence of some sort. Maybe just a little talk. Maybe all it was was a stupid dream. And yet, her life in Edensphere had begun with but a dream...
During her thoughts, she had dressed herself and walked out of her room and headed out. She did not have breakfast.
She came to the Park Island some time later by simply wandering about, lost in thoughts. That's when she threw her head up and decided that this was no good, she needed something to take her mind off this now-
...who was that guy on the swingset? She paused and just looked at him. She'd not seen anyone quite like that around. He looked quite disheveled, too. For the first time since she had arrived, she considered instigating a conversation with a stranger on the street. After all, someone else's worries could make her more quickly forget her own.
But all this was not to fool anyone. Data was still mostly the same Data: Blunt and callous. Her behavior was not quite like everyday, but no one knew her well enough that they could discern that. Her voice was still monotone, and she still appeared to be something of a 9 year-old-looking robot.
When she had found she had traveled to the man, she asked, "Are you okay?", though, with such a voice, it could be mistaken for something more like a demand.
Behind those lifeless eyes, there was just a little bit of pain. Just a little bit.
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But for whatever reason, it was alright not to recall these things, wasn't it? There was still a life beyond those sorts of things. Maybe life was better off without them. He was thinking so hard that the girl's bluntness quickly snapped him out of his thoughts, and he didn't so much care about her lacking any form of politeness as answering the question that brought him back to reality.
"It'd be a lie if I said I was doing well."
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to let down his guard to a young girl, but there was something about her that struck him as older. It might've been the way she carried herself, or even how she'd roughly asked such a question. But still, she was just a kid--he relaxed just a little bit at the very least.
"I suppose I've got quite a few thoughts on my mind." Looking around, he continued, "And it's not such a bad day to sit around in the park and think for a while."
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To his comment, she made the smallest, "Oh?", one just barely loud enough for him to hear. It sounded a too forced, which it entirely was, and yet, she could not suppress it. Just another one of her quirks she had today that would die in a few sunrises and sunsets. She also saw how stiff he'd been, and that little relaxation, that so slight movement of his shoulders. How could she not detect when, after all, that was so much like her everyday self? As for Data, she remained stiff, her hands behind her in a business-like fashion, her eyes set on him. It was obvious that if he tried anything, she would be off in a second. And despite what Fugue might or might not think, it was not just because of his looks; she was always guarded against everyone, young or old, short or tall, human or not. His dirtied person meant very little to her. He had maybe been her target because he was alone, quiet, and deep in thought.
Much like herself.
She listened to him, her eye movement following his a little too quickly. She felt a bit more paranoid than normal today, as though she expected someone to jump out and attack her-
She briefly closed her eyes and blocked out the memory of her first dream. It didn't annoy her, or make her grief. It made her frightened today. Perhaps another reason why she had quickly went through the more urban, busy part of the islands without taking much time to look over anyone there.
Then, she opened her eyes again, unchanged.
"I as well," she replied. She paused, unsure if she should share her own thoughts or let him go first. Perhaps she really was as socially disabled as that one man... Castor, had said. So this was why she normally avoided social contact.
She decided to let him take the reins. If he wanted to talk about him, so be it. If he wanted her to talk about herself, so be it. If he wanted to talk about neither, well, so be it. She didn't care. She never cared.
Except maybe today. Just a little bit.
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If only he wasn't so social stupid, he'd know the answers already. And while he may not be as socially awkward as some others -such as this girl before him- he didn't seem to really know or understand just how to go about things with other people. Obviously it was completely abnormal to dress oneself like a a creepy old man, but that was something Fugue didn't seem to get.
"I dreamed something rather... upsetting last night," he replied, frowning slightly. Then he looked a little more thoughtful. "I suppose it simply brought up some issues worth thinking about."
A part of him didn't want to continue. Not yet, at least. He still needed time to think, to process, the various ideas poking through his mind. The most prominent thoughts were imminent worry concerning last night's dream.
The lighthouse. He hated that place and almost wished it didn't exist. But if it went missing now, people would surely notice, wouldn't they?
Before she could reply, he continued, "You're also thinking about many things--care to share your thoughts?"
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She listened to him, slightly surprised. What a coincidence. Normally, when another finished, it took no more than a few split-seconds for Data to conjure a response and speak. She hesitated. Partly because she was not quite sure how to present her own dream, or if she even should, for that matter. Didn't she want to get away from it?
"You're also thinking about many things-- care to share your thoughts?"
"...I.. had had a strange dream as well," she told him. "I do not recall much, but the phrases that had been spoken remain clear in my mind. I feel as though they had pertained to my past... As though... it had been related to something that changed my life forever." She'd only told one other person about something so... 'close' to her. Jing. A random passerby. And yet, at that time, she would've easily done so to any passerby.
So why, now, did she feel a slight hesitance in giving away such information, a slight discomfort?
"I would like to pass it off as an ordinary dream, but since my only link to my past is my first dream, that would be too rash," she spoke, monotone.
I would like to? Where did that come from?
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Fugue went from slightly relaxed and natural to guarded, and he couldn't help it. Perhaps that had been the purpose... Maybe he shouldn't have actually come out today. What did people think of him? Were they going to come after him? What should he do now?
Practically jumping to his feet, he continued, "What kind of dream? What was in it?"
Inwardly he was hoping and begging that it wasn't the same dream with the lighthouse. If that was the case, then people were more likely to head there, weren't they? But the bridge was broken, so maybe that would keep people from going. Still, what if they found some other means aside from the bridge? Would people still try to get there?
Although dreams might've possibly been a harmless topic, the man seemed both desperate and horrified...
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That was when he suddenly got up, pressing the question. Shelke jumped a little herself, looking a little like an animal that was prepared to burst into a run, though her eyes weren't quite so fearful as they were startled.
She tried to calm herself down, though, externally, she didn't look quite so panicked, just... maybe overly prepared? "It... it was in a warehouse of some sort, I think... The whole dream had been first-person, and.. I believe the last phrase was, "You've ruined everything."."
Now that she was somewhat calmed, it didn't look so much like he wanted to attack her. It looked like he was... afraid.. But why? This was perhaps the most perplexing situation she had encountered yet. People had felt strange in her presence. Uneasy. But scared? He was the first. Why get so agitated over a dream? But then, there was the reminder of that first dream again, so maybe dreams really had more of an impact on reality than regular dreams would?
The feelings in his eyes reminded her a little of herself in that dream. But empathy was as far as her feelings would go; concern would come much later. At the least, it allowed her to recover from the start his sudden actions had brought.
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"Oh... then it was the same dream that I had." His gaze fell to the ground, and the man wore a pained expression on his face. Fugue nudged himself just a little on the swing, enough for it to make a forlorn creaking sound.
That dream wasn't just sent out by coincidence; someone had to have sent it out to everyone. It didn't seem like the exile and may not be that man, but then it meant someone else who was against him had done it. His mind was racing, seeking out memory of anyone who might have the power to do such a thing--he found no definitive answer, and it wasn't like he was particularly familiar with everyone in Edensphere.
Or perhaps there was someone, and Fugue simply did not want to suspect him. Had anyone else investigated the lighthouse? Someone with the ability to send out such a dream? Would someone really do that, and what was the intention behind it?
"Anyway... What did you think of it? As in, how do you think it could've related to your life?" He was trying to calm himself, trying to shift the subject and steer it away from his own anxious thoughts. Maybe he could avoid and ignore his feelings for the time being. Maybe everything would just go away somehow. Besides, these duplicates that were around... it was simply another one of those bizarre occurrences of Edensphere, right? So how long could this misery possibly last?
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So why... why did it fit so well? If Data didn't learn that another person had had the same dream, she would've been convinced that it related to her past, even if the scenery had been a little out of place and foreign. Although the words were general and could probably apply to anyone, Data felt them far too accurate to just drop as something insignificant.
There was still that part of her that wished it was all connected, the part of her that still so badly yearned to learn of her past for whatever reason. It was as though learning of her past, which seemed so foreboding and scary, tramutizing, perhaps, would be better than ignorance. That ignorance was, in fact, not bliss. But that seemed so illogical, yet, her instincts told her otherwise. Logic and instincts were easily both the two things that characterized Data most. Such a desire brought forth great internal conflicts.
His question brought her to her senses, but she did not yet look at him. Hesitation. Again, she felt the need to keep her dream secret, away from others. This time, though, she had wandered out with the intent to find out more about her dream. There was no question as to whether she should or shouldn't tell him, so... what was she waiting for?
Oh, yes, of course. Introductions. She would feel even stranger, telling something so personal(?) to a random guy on the street she didn't know the name of. By knowing his name, they could, perhaps, keep in contact... Not that Shelke had a special desire to. Just in case. Also, the knowledge of at least a name made her feel a little more willing to speak of her dream.
"Before I say, I do believe we should introduce ourselves. I am Data," she said, the last phrase only sounding slightly less robotic than it normally did.
Then was when she shared her dream. "My first dream depicted what appeared to be an invasion. People were getting murdered, and children were being herded into carriers by soldiers wearing strange outfits. Some of them were on all fours, like feral beings. I was among the children taken from their families. Someone had been calling out to me before I was taken," she described, her eyes losing some of their hardness as she did so. Looking back at Fugue, she told him, "I had thought that the part that had asked, 'Do you remember?' referred to my dream, as it was the only thing I did remember. The phrases... seemed to fit so well. That that memory, the event, had been the start of something that had changed me forever. I had went too far and did something wrong... And..." Data trailed off, recalling the last part of the dream.
"You've ruined everything."
She still didn't know what to make of it. Whenever she thought of it, she could feel nothing but guilt.
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It was somewhat fascinating somehow.
For whatever reason, her opening up to him made him feel a little better. Maybe because he felt like he could relate or shared similar feelings? Perhaps, especially on account of guilt. He wasn't even sure what he'd ruined, how, or why; Fugue would like to think that he had good reasons for whatever he'd done. Except that he couldn't exactly remember all the things he'd done. Like others, he had experienced death in Edensphere. Generally, he didn't remember a darn thing about events that had taken place before dying. Wild accusations and rumors had spread, and some (like Lucy) had witnessed events that he honestly could remember nothing about. Why wouldn't or shouldn't he feel guilty?
But see, that was probably exactly why he could relate. This young lady -Data- also hadn't any memory of things that had happened in the past.
"It seems you were disturbed as well..." He paused for a short moment and considered things. "But then, you are not alone in that respect. The dream you described as having last night, I had it as well. Maybe... maybe it wasn't exactly anything personal..."
He'd like to hope, but somewhere in his gut he knew that wasn't true. Fugue was pretty sure that the message was for him.
"Anyway, it wasn't so bad that you've shared it with me," he added quickly. "I'm Fugue, by the way. I think that somehow I could relate to your feelings about it--or, at least, what you seem to feel about it."
It was likely to deduce that he thought her somewhat awkward from the way he mentioned it. Or, perhaps one could still go about it quite obliviously.
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...No. That was absolutely ridiculous.
Data was maybe a little too quick to throw away the idea. She didn't accept these emotions, and so she fought against them. Emotions were too... powerful. They led to mistakes, to rashness, to vulnerability... All the things that Data didn't want- didn't need, that would keep her from being her best.
Right?
Stop that she growled internally at her indecisiveness.
Data looked back at him. Fugue. She'd heard the name on a few occasions, but that meant nothing to her. His next statement startled her a bit, her eyes widening slightly before she turned her head away a little too quickly. He was the first to point out her apparent apathy, and quite frankly, Shelke wasn't so sure why this seemed to bother her so much. Why should she? It was ridiculous, all of it.
Almost as though to reassure herself, she said, her tone not quite so flat as it, for once, seemed somewhat cold, "Feelings are nothing but manipulation."
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"Manipulation, you say. Is that something you believe in? Who controls or manipulates 'feelings'? Is it someone other than yourself?"
It was worth asking her, Fugue decided. He didn't know or care whether or not he was taxing someone else's thoughts and/or emotions--besides, the girl denied or rejected those things. Feelings.
"Is it because feelings seem, at times, beyond facts? Perhaps you think that emotions are distortions of reality...? Are they? Is it something you actually think or something you actually feel?"
What did this girl know, and could Fugue find out? Did she think -or feel- that his questions were mere foolishness?
"What is the best way to describe such interpretations relative to other things? Dreams that may hold the key, may be the answers... or perhaps simply that is what people wish to believe? Should they believe it? Should they move beyond it?"
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"Dreams are mostly born from the subconscious mind- memory that is sufficient enough to be implemented in one's brain. Because it is the first thing everyone is born with- supposedly- it is safe to assume, I should think, that dreams are significant in this world. Feelings can manipulate one's dreams to what they want it to be and not what it should be, should they be foolish enough to give into such urges. No. Emotions are but manipulation, and if you are manipulated, you cannot be an efficient tool."
Her last words made her stop.
Tool?
Some sort of damned feeling welled up in her again. It pushed against her chest and hardened her throat.
Dislike? Distaste even?
"...perhaps I have said too much," she said after a few seconds of silence, her eyes looking away from Fugue distractedly and her tone noticably softer than it had been before.
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Though he'd been the one to bring them up, the same ideas and thoughts about emotions and dreams were now giving him a headache. It was frustrating, because Fugue did want to think about these things. At the same time, he felt like it was something that was better to avoid or remain ignorant of.
Perhaps he'd try one more time.
"If you think so," he replied, looking off into the distance. "Even something like that--is it emotion, or logical reasoning and fact, that determines whether or not you've said too much?"
The girl seemed so against emotions, and Fugue could somehow understand her. He hated feeling as he did without understanding the reasons behind it. He hated that he felt weak against some unknown enemy. Was it the very fact that he didn't know things that made him want to back down rather than face it? Was he actually as weak as he felt?
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Then, "...I do not know."
She really didn't, at this point. So much that she'd been fighting- avoiding- up until now had suddenly smacked her in the face, and she wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. How'd she--
Fugue.
It had to have been. She never would've said all this to anyone else, would have she? She wouldn't have lost her cool. He had to be manipulating her, somehow.
Or was that just a cover?
Definitely a cover.
She went from suddenly tense to confused and maybe even a little upset and leaned against the swing set. She didn't drop her guard, but she wasn't concentrating on Fugue. All those emotions and thoughts were overwhelming her.
Now that she had a chance to calm down and a few moments of silence, she turned her head to Fugue and asked, "Is there a reason you were so concerned about the dreams?"
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