[2.0] The lost art of communication

[unwinding_key]

Someone told me that dying changes very little about a person and I am inclined to agree. This entire place is rather like a memory I cannot quite pick up upon, just out of reach. Which, I am told, is rather common here. Considering that we cannot remember our own names, our stations, our pasts.

So tell me, dear residents: is my hand writing

Comments

[snowburned]

I don't believe I knew you well before, but I do recognize your writing. Welcome back. It's a pleasure to have you here again.

[unwinding_key]

Thank you. Might I ask your name?

[snowburned]

How silly of me not to offer. I'm Kazahana. I work at Medical.

[unwinding_key]

It is fine; I feel that people are used to writing to those who know the name on the other side of the pen. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kazahana.

[snowburned]

I believe it may just be that we're used to knowing everyone who writes in them. No one hatched for a very long time, and suddenly there are many newcomers.

[unwinding_key]

I see. That would explain quite a few things. How long was the lull, do you know?

[snowburned]

I'm honestly not sure. Several months--less than a year.

[unwinding_key]

I have the impression that is not the way things tended to occur.

[snowburned]

No. It used to happen fairly regularly.

[unwinding_key]

Do the greeters and guards, that you know of, keep a record of new births?

[snowburned]

I believe they may, but you'd have to ask them to be sure.

[unwinding_key]

Bastet is the current captain of the guards, correct? Is there a leader for the greeter's organization?

[snowburned]

That would be Fugue.

[unwinding_key]

Thank you.