GRIFT'S WILL
[OOC:Here's Grift's will whiiich I am posting here for my own benefit. ♥ It was slipped underneath Gene's door on January 26th]
[This letter is neatly sealed in a crisp white envelope, and Gene's name is written in cursive on the front. The handwriting is just as tidy and fancy as it usually is.]
Dear Gene,
I never thought I would be writing one of these foolish letters, but here we are. Ah, how times have changed. Certainly not for the better. I suppose you could look at this as a suicide note, considering the circumstances, but I don't wish for death. I only wish for an end to this particular chain of events, and if I succeed... well, I suspect you will have more to think about than this letter. Rest assured this was a long time coming. I believe you have endured this place far longer than I have, and in that aspect, you are a stronger soul than myself. It likely has much to do with the company you surround yourself with. I have very few people here. I doubt I had many people at all at home if I indeed have a home to go back to, but at least I presumably possessed the ability to travel there. A car, even. We have never been particularly close, but people say that when men share guns and a drink, it's some form of bond.
Let me see... ah, yes. My possessions. What I said over the journals was not a joke. Take Cross Punisher, and take care of her. You're the person I know who can care for guns best. If you look in my drawers below much of my clothing, you will find several smaller firearms and ammunition. Do not let Veda touch Cross Punisher. I saw the way he was looking at her during that messy zombie business. Besides, it will likely bother him and from what little I've seen of him, it is most entertaining to antagonize him. Ambassador also.
I seem to recall that Genius derived some form of enjoyment out of media, and I have an extensive collection of films. They ought not go to waste. I also have quite an extensive collection of books. Mostly poetry, really, but I'm sure someone will have a use for it.
I feel that I should make one thing clear: I am not a hero. My existence for the past year and a half was not a lie. I believe firmly in the art of hedonism, in drinking, in fornication, in guns. Why live if you can't enjoy it? But even hedonism grows dull when hearts do not last long enough for you to break them.
It is more than likely that I shall not succeed in this impossible task, but I pray to God that I will.
I've reason to believe that nothing will get done by revolutionaries lurking underneath the surface, and I haven't the patience to string it out as long as they do. A more direct approach is necessary. There is nothing worse they can do to me than they haven't done already. This is not Eden, but Hell. I have entertained the idea that this is a twisted form of afterlife, but should that be the case, the likes of me would not coexist with the likes of Kagerou. That is not me putting myself down, by the by. I am very proud of my status as a sinner, after all.
[There are a few wet spots here that were hastily brushed away.]
I hope that my bar flourishes, and that if I do not succeed, that life returns to normal.
And though it is not up to you, I dearly hope that I am not forgotten.
Yours,
Grift
[This letter is neatly sealed in a crisp white envelope, and Gene's name is written in cursive on the front. The handwriting is just as tidy and fancy as it usually is.]
Dear Gene,
I never thought I would be writing one of these foolish letters, but here we are. Ah, how times have changed. Certainly not for the better. I suppose you could look at this as a suicide note, considering the circumstances, but I don't wish for death. I only wish for an end to this particular chain of events, and if I succeed... well, I suspect you will have more to think about than this letter. Rest assured this was a long time coming. I believe you have endured this place far longer than I have, and in that aspect, you are a stronger soul than myself. It likely has much to do with the company you surround yourself with. I have very few people here. I doubt I had many people at all at home if I indeed have a home to go back to, but at least I presumably possessed the ability to travel there. A car, even. We have never been particularly close, but people say that when men share guns and a drink, it's some form of bond.
Let me see... ah, yes. My possessions. What I said over the journals was not a joke. Take Cross Punisher, and take care of her. You're the person I know who can care for guns best. If you look in my drawers below much of my clothing, you will find several smaller firearms and ammunition. Do not let Veda touch Cross Punisher. I saw the way he was looking at her during that messy zombie business. Besides, it will likely bother him and from what little I've seen of him, it is most entertaining to antagonize him. Ambassador also.
I seem to recall that Genius derived some form of enjoyment out of media, and I have an extensive collection of films. They ought not go to waste. I also have quite an extensive collection of books. Mostly poetry, really, but I'm sure someone will have a use for it.
I feel that I should make one thing clear: I am not a hero. My existence for the past year and a half was not a lie. I believe firmly in the art of hedonism, in drinking, in fornication, in guns. Why live if you can't enjoy it? But even hedonism grows dull when hearts do not last long enough for you to break them.
It is more than likely that I shall not succeed in this impossible task, but I pray to God that I will.
I've reason to believe that nothing will get done by revolutionaries lurking underneath the surface, and I haven't the patience to string it out as long as they do. A more direct approach is necessary. There is nothing worse they can do to me than they haven't done already. This is not Eden, but Hell. I have entertained the idea that this is a twisted form of afterlife, but should that be the case, the likes of me would not coexist with the likes of Kagerou. That is not me putting myself down, by the by. I am very proud of my status as a sinner, after all.
[There are a few wet spots here that were hastily brushed away.]
I hope that my bar flourishes, and that if I do not succeed, that life returns to normal.
And though it is not up to you, I dearly hope that I am not forgotten.
Yours,
Grift