[video] l-lmao, POOR GIRL IS SO CONFUSEDfakeorgansJune 14 2010, 21:19:44 UTC
[ The experience comes while she is waiting, idly switching through the channels.
Chrome recognizes it for what it is at once: Sounds that are not there. A drift of shadows in the water (like the water which houses --), the sensations that are not her own, the deep upswelling of feverish, blood-tinged hunger. Contempt for weakness. The urge to close her teeth on a jugular, to pare down that soft humanity (only, she does not understand, during these times, whether these are her own desires, because her heart is beating very quickly in time with a voice, somewhere distant, as if in faraway mountains: a gasping voice, insisting that to rip the throat out with her teeth will hurtAnd yet she had come away with blood in her mouth. Had known this because of the taste of the chunks of flesh, newly dead (or dying
( ... )
[ ... What is this? A boy? (And no boy that she recognizes; his voice has a strange, clipped sound to it.) The possibility that this is merely another possession does flit across her mind, but she decides otherwise quickly. She would recognize the presence, so familiar is it to her by now, and she feels none of it in the one who addresses her.
Yet there is a distance between them which complicates and confounds matters. The technology reminds her of Byakuran, webs of viewing screens at military bases -- only this is smaller, like a phone, yet the insistent and spying nature of it seems to suggest a subdued hostility, and for a moment, Chrome wonders if she has been placed in the midst of a trap.
(It would not be the first time she had opened her eyes and found herself before an enemy.) ]
. . . I'm sorry.
[ Though there is not much apology in the tone
( ... )
You're new here. Are you in a meadow in a big tree by any chance? You gotten spirited away from whatever you are from to here, which is called Kannagara.
[ Once the initial surprise has been expressed, she takes a moment to contemplate the remainder of what he has said and asked. (At least she is relatively certain he is not an enemy, now. Relatively.) ]
There's been some evidence that gods - the Japanese kind anyway - have taken you here to learn about harmony. Or something like that. When people first arrive here, they are pretty much dumped at that meadow you are in right now.
She really isn't a believer in those. At least not in the conventional sense. By now, Chrome has seen too many spheres of heaven and hell to suppose that there is not some variety of divinity or order inherent in the world.
But she has her doubts. ]
How do we know . . . they're not just people claiming to be gods?
[ Seems a likelier possibility.
She is frowning into the machine.
Quietly: ]
I -- I have things I need to do back home.
I don't think I can stay here.
[ Ignoring that she may have no choice at this point. ]
That's a good question. But people have been kidnapped by them, and there's that one time where monsters came out of nowhere and started killing people. They seemed to be as close as a god as they can be, anyway.
But yeah. I hear you. I got too much stuff to do. Homework, you see.
[ Her first thought, actually, is of box weapons -- the kraken di pioggia. Or Funeral Wreaths: Ghost, with blazes fired from a near-invincible body. Of course, there are other kinds of monsters, too. (There are the kind which you call your mother and father, leaving you to die rather than consenting to organ donation. But those are old wounds that have left no scars.)
Chrome does think she knows something of monsters. ]
That's -- mm. [ Considers. ] I'm not defenseless.
[ It seems like an important observation, suddenly, because she's well aware of the impression she thinks she's giving off, and she does not care for it. That version of her is something she has been attempting to erode with time. Cutting the stone. Whetting the blade. What would Mukuro-sama say or do?
Still, she smiles a little at the final words.
She thinks she likes him. It's nice to be around boys who tease. It feels a little more like home. Reminds her of older times. ]
Chrome recognizes it for what it is at once: Sounds that are not there. A drift of shadows in the water (like the water which houses --), the sensations that are not her own, the deep upswelling of feverish, blood-tinged hunger. Contempt for weakness. The urge to close her teeth on a jugular, to pare down that soft humanity (only, she does not understand, during these times, whether these are her own desires, because her heart is beating very quickly in time with a voice, somewhere distant, as if in faraway mountains: a gasping voice, insisting that to rip the throat out with her teeth will hurtAnd yet she had come away with blood in her mouth. Had known this because of the taste of the chunks of flesh, newly dead (or dying ( ... )
Reply
But he's not to sure what the one-eyed babe is on about.]
Done what?
[He's not sure if he wants the answer.]
Reply
Yet there is a distance between them which complicates and confounds matters. The technology reminds her of Byakuran, webs of viewing screens at military bases -- only this is smaller, like a phone, yet the insistent and spying nature of it seems to suggest a subdued hostility, and for a moment, Chrome wonders if she has been placed in the midst of a trap.
(It would not be the first time she had opened her eyes and found herself before an enemy.) ]
. . . I'm sorry.
[ Though there is not much apology in the tone ( ... )
Reply
You're new here. Are you in a meadow in a big tree by any chance? You gotten spirited away from whatever you are from to here, which is called Kannagara.
Reply
[ Meaning an accident? Or -- ]
By what?
[ Once the initial surprise has been expressed, she takes a moment to contemplate the remainder of what he has said and asked. (At least she is relatively certain he is not an enemy, now. Relatively.) ]
... Yes, it does look like a meadow.
[ She had thought at first that.
No, never mind. ]
Reply
Reply
[ The gods?
She really isn't a believer in those. At least not in the conventional sense. By now, Chrome has seen too many spheres of heaven and hell to suppose that there is not some variety of divinity or order inherent in the world.
But she has her doubts. ]
How do we know . . . they're not just people claiming to be gods?
[ Seems a likelier possibility.
She is frowning into the machine.
Quietly: ]
I -- I have things I need to do back home.
I don't think I can stay here.
[ Ignoring that she may have no choice at this point. ]
Reply
But yeah. I hear you. I got too much stuff to do. Homework, you see.
Reply
Monsters?
[ Her first thought, actually, is of box weapons -- the kraken di pioggia. Or Funeral Wreaths: Ghost, with blazes fired from a near-invincible body. Of course, there are other kinds of monsters, too. (There are the kind which you call your mother and father, leaving you to die rather than consenting to organ donation. But those are old wounds that have left no scars.)
Chrome does think she knows something of monsters. ]
That's -- mm. [ Considers. ] I'm not defenseless.
[ It seems like an important observation, suddenly, because she's well aware of the impression she thinks she's giving off, and she does not care for it. That version of her is something she has been attempting to erode with time. Cutting the stone. Whetting the blade. What would Mukuro-sama say or do?
Still, she smiles a little at the final words.
She thinks she likes him. It's nice to be around boys who tease. It feels a little more like home. Reminds her of older times. ]
I have mafia to infiltrate.
Reply
I also have to fight aliens on Saturday!
Reply
Little green ones? [ Only half-joking here. ]
Reply
Reply
[ Still not sure whether he is teasing or not. ]
Reply
Leave a comment