Quest 247
[Private || Hackable by Friends]
There's a saying that time heals all wounds--and wounds all heels, for that matter. I suppose it must've been an adventurer who came up with that one, having walked miles and miles in his time. Goodness knows one's feet get tired enough after just one adventure, much less years and years of them.
I wonder how much truth there is to that saying, though. Does time really make things easier? I suppose it does in a sense, in that the things I worry about today aren't the same as the ones I worried about a year ago, or two years, or three or more. I remember I once worried about what the ball would be like for my eighteenth birthday, and if I'd meet anyone nice there, and how long it would take before I fell in love and was married. And then it became worries for the kingdom, for Daddy, and I thought I'd never get to see that birthday, and all that earlier worrying had been in vain. Years ago it was worries about Alexander, about who he was and whether or not he'd prove to be a better ruler than I could be, and what would happen to me if he was. I worried about Lolotte, too, and only told Sam my real name, my title, because I was afraid she'd make good on her vow for revenge and find me here, somehow.
That was a long time ago, now. And I don't find myself worrying about Lolotte anymore, not really. I don't worry much about Mordack, either, even though I know he and the cat are waiting for me in the future when I do get back home. But I've done the best I can to prepare myself for it, and that's all I can do. Just to hope for the best and...that's all.
Why can't I do that when my friends leave, I wonder?
Perhaps it's just that I don't notice it. Or that it hasn't been enough time. I'm...at least a little better now than I was when Sam first left, and at least I did have the chance to say goodbye to him before he went. That's more than I've had for some people. And that's more than plenty of other people have had for the people they've cared about, too. And I am doing better than I was in the fall, now that Miss Saya and Nigel are here with me, too. I do a fair bit more creeping around the Warehouse than I used to, since it's a bit...well, more solemn now than it was when Sam was around to light it up with merriment, but it's peaceful in its own way. Time goes on.
How long does it take a wound like that to heal? Perhaps it never does, completely. Some wounds heal perfectly, like scraped knees and papercuts. Others can't help but leave a scar, no matter how carefully they're treated.
But there's a difference between healing and forgetting, too. Riff and Merry have both forgotten Cain, now, horrible as that is to think of, and all sorts of people have been forgetting all sorts of things this month. Important things, and meaningful things. What if it had been me? Would they have made me forget Sam, like Riff has forgotten Cain? I can't imagine what I would be like without him. Just knowing him changed me so much, helped me so greatly...and he's always been a part of this adventure, even from the very first day I arrived. There is no City before Sam, not for me--only one after it, without him.
I remember Dr. Chase said I ought to get rid of his things after he left, rather than closing them up in his room like a shrine to an old memory. I suppose he was right, in a way, even though I was too upset to see it at the time. Saving his room just the way it was and closing the door so I can't see inside, so I can pretend he might really be there even when I know he's not...that's not remembering. That's making myself miserable without realizing it, and pretending I still have something I don't, like trying to catch a ghost in a jar. It's not going to bring him back. It's selfish to want that, isn't it? But it's what I wanted.
...No, no it isn't. That's not true. What I wanted is for him to never have left at all. Bringing him back now won't change all the time I've missed him, and it is selfish, when his being there and not here just means his own world needs him more than this one did. More than I did.
Is it too selfish to think that you were brought here to be my best friend, Sam Witwicky? To save a tired young princess when she fell into the fountain on her very first day? To tell her, one day not long thereafter, that things will always get better no matter what?
Of course it's selfish. But I believe it anyway.
You were the one who always told me I could. That everyone deserves the chance to be selfish, and that I do so much giving already that I've long since earned the chance to be that way myself. Even when I thought it was terrible of me, you would always convince me that it wasn't. That it was all right. You threw water balloons at me because I worried too much about love, you awful, terrible, wonderful friend of mine. You always knew. You always made me smile.
But you aren't here to tell me I can get on in a world without you. You aren't here to poke me and tease me and remind me of it every time I start to doubt it myself. Is that what I've been waiting for, all this time? Someone to tell me I can. Someone to do more than just listen to me, to console me, to protect me when I need it--and I do need it, sometimes, though I think I've gotten better at not getting myself into trouble quite so often. You and Blue would be surprised at that, wouldn't you?--not just that, but someone to push me, to taunt me, to make fun of me when I can't because you know that I can, and you know that I know it too, and that it'll just make me mad enough to try.
Look at you, Rosella, tied up on the ground from trying to learn magic. And I learned it, didn't I? Even after you laughed at me and took a picture of me and kept it on the back of your door to show Mother and Daddy when they came to visit, I still managed it. I learned it. And I got you back for it, too, because I could. I could.
I can.
You're not here to say, "Look at you, Rosella, coming up on seven months without me and you're still letting your sadness get the better of you. That's not what I wanted. That's never what I'd want for you."
Cain was right, all those years ago on the very first time you left. It's either stay in one place forever, or keep going on. And whether I've known it or not, I've been staying in one place ever since you left. I've pretended to go on, but I haven't. I always came back to you in the end, like an anchor with a long tether. As far as it seemed I could get, there was still always that bit holding back. That part I couldn't let go of, that loneliness I couldn't get rid of. I kept wishing for you to come back and what I really wanted was to turn time back, before I ever knew what life in the City was like without you in it.
But I do. And that's not going away. So all that's left to do is to overcome it.
I can't find you again in an empty room, closed against the dust. That's not where you are. You're in me, and in the people I still have, and in the new friends waiting to be found. You're in the people I help, the way that you saved me my first day here. You're in a kitchen ceiling that I still never look at and a game you never could beat me at and the cars that I can learn to drive. You're in the magic I can learn and the friends I can make and the things I can say, even if they're not always the most proper or courteous or princessly.
You're a part of me, and you'll always be a part of me, because I wouldn't be who I am today if it hadn't been for you.
And I may not think I'll ever be able to let go of that sadness, but you would. You'd know so, and you'd tell me so, and you'd taunt me so until I believed it, too.
Perhaps time does heal all wounds. But people like you certainly help to speed things along, too.
[/Private]
[Video Post]
[Behold Rosella--or what appears to be Rosella, at least, judging by the cascade of blonde curls--standing in one of the hallways of the Warehouse, her back to the camera as she fiddles with something on the closed door in front of her. People particularly familiar with the Warehouse might recognize that it happens to be her bedroom door; thankfully, it's pulled completely closed to hide the usual mess inside. However, there's something else odd to the picture--that her hair is hanging a bit oddly because there's a brown hood dangling between her shoulders, just below the nape of her neck.
After a minute, she finishes whatever it is she's doing and turns around, and this oddity quickly becomes clear: she's wearing a clearly well-loved brown zip-front hoodie today, on top of her usual peasant dress, and looking rather pleased with herself for it. Then, she approaches the camera, picks it up, and holds it up to display her handiwork: a poster she's just affixed to her bedroom door.]
There! All finished. It does look nice, doesn't it? And right where I'll never miss it, too.
[She tips the camera a bit, leaning into range just enough to flash the camera a genuinely cheerful smile.]
Thank you again, Tommy. I really do like it very much.
[And with that, the video snaps off with a click.]
[OOC: We can rebuild her, we have the technology~ Believe it or not, Rosella might have actually finally hit an upswing! Because only Rosella would actually get motivated by a motivational poster, sob. So yeah, she's in a good mood today, and people are welcome to notice so. Here's hoping it lasts? :D]
There's a saying that time heals all wounds--and wounds all heels, for that matter. I suppose it must've been an adventurer who came up with that one, having walked miles and miles in his time. Goodness knows one's feet get tired enough after just one adventure, much less years and years of them.
I wonder how much truth there is to that saying, though. Does time really make things easier? I suppose it does in a sense, in that the things I worry about today aren't the same as the ones I worried about a year ago, or two years, or three or more. I remember I once worried about what the ball would be like for my eighteenth birthday, and if I'd meet anyone nice there, and how long it would take before I fell in love and was married. And then it became worries for the kingdom, for Daddy, and I thought I'd never get to see that birthday, and all that earlier worrying had been in vain. Years ago it was worries about Alexander, about who he was and whether or not he'd prove to be a better ruler than I could be, and what would happen to me if he was. I worried about Lolotte, too, and only told Sam my real name, my title, because I was afraid she'd make good on her vow for revenge and find me here, somehow.
That was a long time ago, now. And I don't find myself worrying about Lolotte anymore, not really. I don't worry much about Mordack, either, even though I know he and the cat are waiting for me in the future when I do get back home. But I've done the best I can to prepare myself for it, and that's all I can do. Just to hope for the best and...that's all.
Why can't I do that when my friends leave, I wonder?
Perhaps it's just that I don't notice it. Or that it hasn't been enough time. I'm...at least a little better now than I was when Sam first left, and at least I did have the chance to say goodbye to him before he went. That's more than I've had for some people. And that's more than plenty of other people have had for the people they've cared about, too. And I am doing better than I was in the fall, now that Miss Saya and Nigel are here with me, too. I do a fair bit more creeping around the Warehouse than I used to, since it's a bit...well, more solemn now than it was when Sam was around to light it up with merriment, but it's peaceful in its own way. Time goes on.
How long does it take a wound like that to heal? Perhaps it never does, completely. Some wounds heal perfectly, like scraped knees and papercuts. Others can't help but leave a scar, no matter how carefully they're treated.
But there's a difference between healing and forgetting, too. Riff and Merry have both forgotten Cain, now, horrible as that is to think of, and all sorts of people have been forgetting all sorts of things this month. Important things, and meaningful things. What if it had been me? Would they have made me forget Sam, like Riff has forgotten Cain? I can't imagine what I would be like without him. Just knowing him changed me so much, helped me so greatly...and he's always been a part of this adventure, even from the very first day I arrived. There is no City before Sam, not for me--only one after it, without him.
I remember Dr. Chase said I ought to get rid of his things after he left, rather than closing them up in his room like a shrine to an old memory. I suppose he was right, in a way, even though I was too upset to see it at the time. Saving his room just the way it was and closing the door so I can't see inside, so I can pretend he might really be there even when I know he's not...that's not remembering. That's making myself miserable without realizing it, and pretending I still have something I don't, like trying to catch a ghost in a jar. It's not going to bring him back. It's selfish to want that, isn't it? But it's what I wanted.
...No, no it isn't. That's not true. What I wanted is for him to never have left at all. Bringing him back now won't change all the time I've missed him, and it is selfish, when his being there and not here just means his own world needs him more than this one did. More than I did.
Is it too selfish to think that you were brought here to be my best friend, Sam Witwicky? To save a tired young princess when she fell into the fountain on her very first day? To tell her, one day not long thereafter, that things will always get better no matter what?
Of course it's selfish. But I believe it anyway.
You were the one who always told me I could. That everyone deserves the chance to be selfish, and that I do so much giving already that I've long since earned the chance to be that way myself. Even when I thought it was terrible of me, you would always convince me that it wasn't. That it was all right. You threw water balloons at me because I worried too much about love, you awful, terrible, wonderful friend of mine. You always knew. You always made me smile.
But you aren't here to tell me I can get on in a world without you. You aren't here to poke me and tease me and remind me of it every time I start to doubt it myself. Is that what I've been waiting for, all this time? Someone to tell me I can. Someone to do more than just listen to me, to console me, to protect me when I need it--and I do need it, sometimes, though I think I've gotten better at not getting myself into trouble quite so often. You and Blue would be surprised at that, wouldn't you?--not just that, but someone to push me, to taunt me, to make fun of me when I can't because you know that I can, and you know that I know it too, and that it'll just make me mad enough to try.
Look at you, Rosella, tied up on the ground from trying to learn magic. And I learned it, didn't I? Even after you laughed at me and took a picture of me and kept it on the back of your door to show Mother and Daddy when they came to visit, I still managed it. I learned it. And I got you back for it, too, because I could. I could.
I can.
You're not here to say, "Look at you, Rosella, coming up on seven months without me and you're still letting your sadness get the better of you. That's not what I wanted. That's never what I'd want for you."
Cain was right, all those years ago on the very first time you left. It's either stay in one place forever, or keep going on. And whether I've known it or not, I've been staying in one place ever since you left. I've pretended to go on, but I haven't. I always came back to you in the end, like an anchor with a long tether. As far as it seemed I could get, there was still always that bit holding back. That part I couldn't let go of, that loneliness I couldn't get rid of. I kept wishing for you to come back and what I really wanted was to turn time back, before I ever knew what life in the City was like without you in it.
But I do. And that's not going away. So all that's left to do is to overcome it.
I can't find you again in an empty room, closed against the dust. That's not where you are. You're in me, and in the people I still have, and in the new friends waiting to be found. You're in the people I help, the way that you saved me my first day here. You're in a kitchen ceiling that I still never look at and a game you never could beat me at and the cars that I can learn to drive. You're in the magic I can learn and the friends I can make and the things I can say, even if they're not always the most proper or courteous or princessly.
You're a part of me, and you'll always be a part of me, because I wouldn't be who I am today if it hadn't been for you.
And I may not think I'll ever be able to let go of that sadness, but you would. You'd know so, and you'd tell me so, and you'd taunt me so until I believed it, too.
Perhaps time does heal all wounds. But people like you certainly help to speed things along, too.
[/Private]
[Video Post]
[Behold Rosella--or what appears to be Rosella, at least, judging by the cascade of blonde curls--standing in one of the hallways of the Warehouse, her back to the camera as she fiddles with something on the closed door in front of her. People particularly familiar with the Warehouse might recognize that it happens to be her bedroom door; thankfully, it's pulled completely closed to hide the usual mess inside. However, there's something else odd to the picture--that her hair is hanging a bit oddly because there's a brown hood dangling between her shoulders, just below the nape of her neck.
After a minute, she finishes whatever it is she's doing and turns around, and this oddity quickly becomes clear: she's wearing a clearly well-loved brown zip-front hoodie today, on top of her usual peasant dress, and looking rather pleased with herself for it. Then, she approaches the camera, picks it up, and holds it up to display her handiwork: a poster she's just affixed to her bedroom door.]
There! All finished. It does look nice, doesn't it? And right where I'll never miss it, too.
[She tips the camera a bit, leaning into range just enough to flash the camera a genuinely cheerful smile.]
Thank you again, Tommy. I really do like it very much.
[And with that, the video snaps off with a click.]
[OOC: We can rebuild her, we have the technology~ Believe it or not, Rosella might have actually finally hit an upswing! Because only Rosella would actually get motivated by a motivational poster, sob. So yeah, she's in a good mood today, and people are welcome to notice so. Here's hoping it lasts? :D]