third chapter; video/text
[The seasons have shifted in the Gardens; the leaves have turned to shades of red and gold, falling softly from the trees to cover the ground and crunch underfoot. It's autumn now, time goes on, but some things don't change. Eleanor's face is as inscrutable as ever, her voice quiet and softly British as always, everything she says made heavy by the simple, yet crushing weight of apathy. The dark eyes look into the mirror.]
Do you know about Stray Dog?
[A lingering moment where Eleanor's stare fills the feed, and then the Vine performs a dual function and her gaze drops; a scroll of blank parchment appears, begins to fill with pictures as Eleanor scrawls into existence the figments of her gloomy imagination. Or rather, a single figment repeated over and over - the reoccurring image of a malformed dog. It's ugly and strangely ominous for all that the artistry is plainly the work of a small child.
A long pause.]
I wonder if any of you have done anything to deserve being gobbled up.
Do you know about Stray Dog?
[A lingering moment where Eleanor's stare fills the feed, and then the Vine performs a dual function and her gaze drops; a scroll of blank parchment appears, begins to fill with pictures as Eleanor scrawls into existence the figments of her gloomy imagination. Or rather, a single figment repeated over and over - the reoccurring image of a malformed dog. It's ugly and strangely ominous for all that the artistry is plainly the work of a small child.
A long pause.]
I wonder if any of you have done anything to deserve being gobbled up.