[Anon. Text / Voice]
[At 9:25 am, an anonymous text flashes briefly across several networks, among them the one intended for newcomers.]
At pater infēlix, nec iam pater,
"ubi es? quā tē regiōne requīram, Īcare?"
[At 2:17pm, there's a still and solemn quiet, and then a careful, ponderously deliberate voice, so much more painstakingly chosen than most of his time and words given to matters of public health. It is terribly rare that Dr. Yumeno speaks of anything so personal, and now .]
Daedalus, the great artificer, was cunning and remarkable, an innovator. He built many complicated things, among them a construct to hide away a monstrous truth, and was shut away himself to keep the secret of its design. The labyrinth was bested regardless, by a mere ball of twine. So he built means of freedom, gifting them to the image of his own youth, but for all his cleverness was outstripped in his talents by the warmth of the sun and the recklessness of willful flight.
And he wept.
[There's a similar hollow, but remote sense of contained grief in the retelling, and eventually he sighs.]
When one is given such an eponymous name, one wonders if it is meant to be a cautionary reminder of humility. Or if he who bears that name is fated to suffer his namesake's failings again and again, if not for the pride of his talents, then for the loss of things which truly bring him joy.
(...I can't help but wonder, after all our long conversations, if he did try to leave this island in spite of all the warning signs.)
No one has seen or heard from Shiroe Rei Seki since last Tuesday, have they?
At pater infēlix, nec iam pater,
"ubi es? quā tē regiōne requīram, Īcare?"
[At 2:17pm, there's a still and solemn quiet, and then a careful, ponderously deliberate voice, so much more painstakingly chosen than most of his time and words given to matters of public health. It is terribly rare that Dr. Yumeno speaks of anything so personal, and now .]
Daedalus, the great artificer, was cunning and remarkable, an innovator. He built many complicated things, among them a construct to hide away a monstrous truth, and was shut away himself to keep the secret of its design. The labyrinth was bested regardless, by a mere ball of twine. So he built means of freedom, gifting them to the image of his own youth, but for all his cleverness was outstripped in his talents by the warmth of the sun and the recklessness of willful flight.
And he wept.
[There's a similar hollow, but remote sense of contained grief in the retelling, and eventually he sighs.]
When one is given such an eponymous name, one wonders if it is meant to be a cautionary reminder of humility. Or if he who bears that name is fated to suffer his namesake's failings again and again, if not for the pride of his talents, then for the loss of things which truly bring him joy.
(...I can't help but wonder, after all our long conversations, if he did try to leave this island in spite of all the warning signs.)
No one has seen or heard from Shiroe Rei Seki since last Tuesday, have they?