o5 - text & video
[ Something has been bothering her since the Core started to yank newcomers back. It has taken days for Chane to gather her thoughts completely, whilst distracted by daily life-- getting started with work, fixing up the minor damage from the earthquake... Her words seem resolved to communicate what she can, although still fragile with uncertainty of whether others will understand, regardless of how they may feel about it. She's too busy to consider how she will appear to others when there is something she does not understand at all. ]
It takes you by surprise when a person you know well disappears without prelude. That might be the reaction to anything in your life ceasing to exist all of a sudden.
When somebody disappears and there is no body to confirm what has happened to them, or physical evidence at all... you assume they have 'gone home'. Where they belong.
Where they come from... It may not necessarily be the safest place for them, I know. If a world, an original home, exists for every person who lives here, then naturally it can be assumed that out of all those worlds, one person's safest option could be the Port. I know well that 'home' does not equate 'safe'.
...But in this place it is treated as if those people die when they return. They cease to exist here but continue to live elsewhere, the place where they existed before the Core pulled them into the Port.
As long as they are alive and where they belong, you can have faith in them, like the people you left behind in your own world.
I don't know why you would grieve over somebody who is still alive, but returned to their home. Is it something stronger than missing them? What are the chances they will not return?
I don't understand it.
filtered to boarding-house residents; [ The video feed then switches on to show-- not her face, at first, but a neatly-sliced browned loaf cake on the kitchen table. Since she's propping up the NV, the feed is a little shaky in the bright midday light, and the colours adjust hazily when she brings it back to herself to continue writing, with a softer look than perhaps her words before had let on. ]
My name is Chane.
[ She glances aside in the direction of the cake without moving the NV, and continues. ] If anybody wants a piece, I made walnut loaf. Come help yourself-- I am in the kitchen.
filtered to Claire Stanfield; [ Chane leaves the video feed on, gazing directly at the feed for a moment before lowering her head to write again. ]
Have you met up with your friend from New York?
[ ooc; boarding-house people, please feel free to action-tag in! ]
It takes you by surprise when a person you know well disappears without prelude. That might be the reaction to anything in your life ceasing to exist all of a sudden.
When somebody disappears and there is no body to confirm what has happened to them, or physical evidence at all... you assume they have 'gone home'. Where they belong.
Where they come from... It may not necessarily be the safest place for them, I know. If a world, an original home, exists for every person who lives here, then naturally it can be assumed that out of all those worlds, one person's safest option could be the Port. I know well that 'home' does not equate 'safe'.
...But in this place it is treated as if those people die when they return. They cease to exist here but continue to live elsewhere, the place where they existed before the Core pulled them into the Port.
As long as they are alive and where they belong, you can have faith in them, like the people you left behind in your own world.
I don't know why you would grieve over somebody who is still alive, but returned to their home. Is it something stronger than missing them? What are the chances they will not return?
I don't understand it.
filtered to boarding-house residents; [ The video feed then switches on to show-- not her face, at first, but a neatly-sliced browned loaf cake on the kitchen table. Since she's propping up the NV, the feed is a little shaky in the bright midday light, and the colours adjust hazily when she brings it back to herself to continue writing, with a softer look than perhaps her words before had let on. ]
My name is Chane.
[ She glances aside in the direction of the cake without moving the NV, and continues. ] If anybody wants a piece, I made walnut loaf. Come help yourself-- I am in the kitchen.
filtered to Claire Stanfield; [ Chane leaves the video feed on, gazing directly at the feed for a moment before lowering her head to write again. ]
Have you met up with your friend from New York?
[ ooc; boarding-house people, please feel free to action-tag in! ]