second snowfall;
[ Ah, Luceti. Did you all have fun awaking this morning? To dawning senses of panic, or relief, or fear, or whatever other turbulent emotion?
Kirsi awoke this morning on the roof of the school to watch the sun rise, and realized she felt something else entirely.
Joy.
Great, terrible, wonderful joy.
Because she had realized, rather all of a sudden, that she remembered how to speak. Thus it was she spent the dawn hours singing, the sound rich and warm and euphoric, spinning on the wind all across the plaza. It is an old lullaby one of her creators used to sing for her.... simple, but eerily beautiful.
Once the sun has properly risen, she will spend most of her day watching the residents come and go, wondering at their thoughts and feelings. The experiment, such as it was, seems to be over. What do they feel now? Sadness? Heartbreak? Kirsi knows these things, but she knows she does not know them like humans do.
What must it be like, to be toyed with so easily, so terribly? What happened to her is but a trifle. But for these creatures with their short, turbulent lives, it must be very much indeed.
Kirsikka cannot help but feel a pang of sympathy for them all, as she watches them go.
Eventually, she will decide there are matters to address, and locate her journal, using the wind to open it to a suitable page. The voice that comes through will be markedly different from what most have heard so far. This is the voice of a woman, one who sounds older. It is rich and warm and somewhat deep, drawing out on the i's and rolling the r's in an indefinable accent. It suggests, somehow, a beautiful woman -- not the doll one will see blinking placidly at the journal window. ]
Luceti. It is a joy to finally be able to speak. Though belatedly, I wish now to introduce myself to you all. My name is Kirsikka. [ She says it with a fierce, warm pride, and an almost musical lilt. ]
I have met several of you already. Some of you saw me skating on the fountain the day of my arrival. Some of you I met simply in my explorations of this place. Others I encountered just the other day, when that great, strange tree overtook the village square. I would like to have all of your names again, would you not mind. I would also like to apologize for ... temporarily borrowing your voices. I did not mean to frighten any of you.
However ... there is one man to whom I must speak.
Jack Sparrow. [ There is a smile in her voice. ] I would see you.
Kirsi awoke this morning on the roof of the school to watch the sun rise, and realized she felt something else entirely.
Joy.
Great, terrible, wonderful joy.
Because she had realized, rather all of a sudden, that she remembered how to speak. Thus it was she spent the dawn hours singing, the sound rich and warm and euphoric, spinning on the wind all across the plaza. It is an old lullaby one of her creators used to sing for her.... simple, but eerily beautiful.
Once the sun has properly risen, she will spend most of her day watching the residents come and go, wondering at their thoughts and feelings. The experiment, such as it was, seems to be over. What do they feel now? Sadness? Heartbreak? Kirsi knows these things, but she knows she does not know them like humans do.
What must it be like, to be toyed with so easily, so terribly? What happened to her is but a trifle. But for these creatures with their short, turbulent lives, it must be very much indeed.
Kirsikka cannot help but feel a pang of sympathy for them all, as she watches them go.
Eventually, she will decide there are matters to address, and locate her journal, using the wind to open it to a suitable page. The voice that comes through will be markedly different from what most have heard so far. This is the voice of a woman, one who sounds older. It is rich and warm and somewhat deep, drawing out on the i's and rolling the r's in an indefinable accent. It suggests, somehow, a beautiful woman -- not the doll one will see blinking placidly at the journal window. ]
Luceti. It is a joy to finally be able to speak. Though belatedly, I wish now to introduce myself to you all. My name is Kirsikka. [ She says it with a fierce, warm pride, and an almost musical lilt. ]
I have met several of you already. Some of you saw me skating on the fountain the day of my arrival. Some of you I met simply in my explorations of this place. Others I encountered just the other day, when that great, strange tree overtook the village square. I would like to have all of your names again, would you not mind. I would also like to apologize for ... temporarily borrowing your voices. I did not mean to frighten any of you.
However ... there is one man to whom I must speak.
Jack Sparrow. [ There is a smile in her voice. ] I would see you.