❂ two | audio
...heLlO , m y nammE is Tr Istan.,
[ a soft click and buzz as he switches to audio. an aggravated sigh, followed by a man's voice - there's an noticeable British inflection to it (region unnamed, so stereotype it? |D). ]
I thought I'd give 'typing' a try, but ... well, I'd like to finish this before the end of the month. And I'm really not- I'm really not too sure how this network thing functions either. I write a letter on this box and somehow others can see it? And then they write responses to it on their own box? Sort of like an actual letter, except it's like the person's right in front of you. Except they're somehow not. Magic?
Anyways- Er. Hullo. I'm Tristan.
...I'm not really supposed to be here. You see, I had this magical transporting-candle, and it was meant to bring me to my Mother; however-- [a stifled sigh] Obviously, I messed up. My thoughts wandered and so here I am: A magical world, but the wrong magical world.
[ silence and a bit of inaudible muttering. if you listen closely, you can hear the chirping of crickets. or maybe even the distant yell of a woman ]
Would anyone lend me a map? I've been attempting to route a way out of here with no luck. And I've got to- I really need to leave this place soon. I promised Victoria I would return in a week, and it's already been four days. And this won't be a promise I'll be breaking. Not to mention, I've got heavy baggage on me.
[ pause ]
...I really adore Victoria. I mean, I've always loved her, even when we were just children playing together. Of course the feeling's matured, but at this point it's ... it's completely overwhelming.
When I was seven, I gave Victoria a yellow daffodil and told her I liked her. She tore off its petals and ran away.
When I was ten, I caught a sparrow and put it in a wooden cage for her. Victoria later told me her cat ate it.
When I was thirteen, I wrote Victoria a love letter on fancy paper. Even suffered the embarrassment of having my father read it, just so I could make sure everything was spelled right. I don't think she read it.
When I was fourteen, I sneaked off to Ipswitch to buy Victoria a special gift. Or at least I tried to reach Ipswitch. Instead I ended up getting lost for three days.
When I was sixteen, I challenged Humphrey to a horse race to impress her. I actually had the lead, until I got distracted by glancing at Victoria. Ended up hitting my head on a branch and falling off the horse. In front of her.
When I was seventeen, I wrote her a series of sonnets. Stayed up practically to the crack of dawn every night for a month reading Shakespeare and Keats so I could learn and manage something decent. Wrote them and even put them in a folder. She, well- She thought they were hilarious.
When I was eighteen, I lost my job after skipping work to help Victoria carry her groceries home. I spent at least one night per week throwing rocks at her window, so I could talk to her. I spent my entire savings to purchase a bottle of champagne for a picnic.
There I told her I'd travel to the golden fields of San Francisco for her.
And that I'd even go to the Arctic and bring her back a polar bear's head. Or to Africa for a diamond as big as her fist. Just for her.
Most importantly, I promised her I'd bring back that shooting star we watched fall together in exchange for her hand in marriage. She agreed.
...I think I'd even cut out my heart and give to her, if she asked for it. However, what she wants is this star and I- I've got to bring it back to her. There's no cannot in this equation because, for her hand in marriage ... I'd do- I would travel over the Wall and beyond.
...
...None of that was supposed to come out of my mouth.
[ the transmission suddenly cuts off ]
[ a soft click and buzz as he switches to audio. an aggravated sigh, followed by a man's voice - there's an noticeable British inflection to it (region unnamed, so stereotype it? |D). ]
I thought I'd give 'typing' a try, but ... well, I'd like to finish this before the end of the month. And I'm really not- I'm really not too sure how this network thing functions either. I write a letter on this box and somehow others can see it? And then they write responses to it on their own box? Sort of like an actual letter, except it's like the person's right in front of you. Except they're somehow not. Magic?
Anyways- Er. Hullo. I'm Tristan.
...I'm not really supposed to be here. You see, I had this magical transporting-candle, and it was meant to bring me to my Mother; however-- [a stifled sigh] Obviously, I messed up. My thoughts wandered and so here I am: A magical world, but the wrong magical world.
[ silence and a bit of inaudible muttering. if you listen closely, you can hear the chirping of crickets. or maybe even the distant yell of a woman ]
Would anyone lend me a map? I've been attempting to route a way out of here with no luck. And I've got to- I really need to leave this place soon. I promised Victoria I would return in a week, and it's already been four days. And this won't be a promise I'll be breaking. Not to mention, I've got heavy baggage on me.
[ pause ]
...I really adore Victoria. I mean, I've always loved her, even when we were just children playing together. Of course the feeling's matured, but at this point it's ... it's completely overwhelming.
When I was seven, I gave Victoria a yellow daffodil and told her I liked her. She tore off its petals and ran away.
When I was ten, I caught a sparrow and put it in a wooden cage for her. Victoria later told me her cat ate it.
When I was thirteen, I wrote Victoria a love letter on fancy paper. Even suffered the embarrassment of having my father read it, just so I could make sure everything was spelled right. I don't think she read it.
When I was fourteen, I sneaked off to Ipswitch to buy Victoria a special gift. Or at least I tried to reach Ipswitch. Instead I ended up getting lost for three days.
When I was sixteen, I challenged Humphrey to a horse race to impress her. I actually had the lead, until I got distracted by glancing at Victoria. Ended up hitting my head on a branch and falling off the horse. In front of her.
When I was seventeen, I wrote her a series of sonnets. Stayed up practically to the crack of dawn every night for a month reading Shakespeare and Keats so I could learn and manage something decent. Wrote them and even put them in a folder. She, well- She thought they were hilarious.
When I was eighteen, I lost my job after skipping work to help Victoria carry her groceries home. I spent at least one night per week throwing rocks at her window, so I could talk to her. I spent my entire savings to purchase a bottle of champagne for a picnic.
There I told her I'd travel to the golden fields of San Francisco for her.
And that I'd even go to the Arctic and bring her back a polar bear's head. Or to Africa for a diamond as big as her fist. Just for her.
Most importantly, I promised her I'd bring back that shooting star we watched fall together in exchange for her hand in marriage. She agreed.
...I think I'd even cut out my heart and give to her, if she asked for it. However, what she wants is this star and I- I've got to bring it back to her. There's no cannot in this equation because, for her hand in marriage ... I'd do- I would travel over the Wall and beyond.
...
...None of that was supposed to come out of my mouth.
[ the transmission suddenly cuts off ]