imatreenow | six [action/voice]

[A peaceful melody played on a panpipe can be heard through the journal, or by anyone who happens to be passing by House 52 this afternoon. Veteran residents may recognize this particular tune as one that Martel played on occassion during her stay in Luceti, but to Mithos it is simply the song his sister would play to comfort him all those many, many years ago. Even now, it remains a source of comfort, one of the ways in which he can remember Martel. He can feel her presence beside him as he sits beneath a tree at the edge of the woods behind the house. Outside, despite the chill. Martel's music was never meant to be contained by walls, just as her soul and his memories of her were never meant to be contained by death.

Recieving his sister's panpipe (yes, the very same one, even though it had been broken when last seen) has been the first good thing to happen in quite some time. It is like a reminder not to give up -- Martel still needs him.

Mithos is entirely unaware that the journal is recording him, thus replies to any voice responses (or written responses) will occur last chronologically. Just for clarification.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Understand? But how can anyone understand how he feels?]

You understand nothing. [The words seem hastily written this time.]

A single year? Don't be stupid. That is nothing to the flow of time. I've waited thousands of years to see my sister again.

Edited 2010-12-28 23:38 (UTC)

[His handwriting continues to have a rushed appearance to it, fueled by all the negative emotions seeping from him.]

Do you think I care? Were your comrades killed by people you thought you could trust?

[Their comrades - they'd thought - and lovers; the protectors of Earth just as they were. Suddenly, it had been war, and all had died. The single word, in absence of anything more, perhaps suggests she knows that pain.]

[That isn't the answer he expected. She isn't supposed to have gone through anything similar. How can she think that her suffering is equal to his own? There is no possible way anyone has felt the same pain as he: losing his sister to selfish humans who couldn't accept those who are different, then striving to return to life and create their own world free from discrimination, only to be betrayed by his supposed companions and lose Martel all over again.]

How could you possibly understand anything about me? [His default response. Close his heart to anyone actually willing to reach out to him. Ignore the part of him that desperately wants to be understood, the same part of him that longs for acceptance.]

[That was her, all the time her mind was suppressed in the Dark Kingdom and all she knew was that darkness, and her own petty spite magnified to make it seem justified to become the one preying on her own comrades.

And that was what broke everything: Her own actions, under that brainwashing and control. She was healed, but not forgiven; cleansed but not returned. That's how she knows what she's about to say next.]

Could it be you're that angry because you've been lonely so long?

[He stares at the page for a long time after she writes that. Lonely? Of course he's lonely. The only person he values, the only person he can trust, hasn't been alive in more than 4000 years.

But...

Somehow, the implications run beyond that. Which he can't understand, because why would he need anyone beside Martel?]

I'm angry because the world refused to accept my sister. Because arrogant humans refused to accept the better world she envisioned. Because the world and the filth inhabiting it refused to allow us happiness.

If you want to tell me about it, I'll listen to you.

[Nobody has ever said anything like that to him, except for Martel. "I'll listen to you." He is completely bewildered by the offer. After the initial shock wears off, he frowns down at the journal. He isn't about to spill his entire heart to someone he doesn't know and certainly doesn't trust in the least. After a long pause, he writes--]

My sister was killed because of the blood she was born with. The world could never accept half-elves. I wanted a world free from discrimination, for me and my sister to live in. I wanted to bring her back to life in a world where we could live freely. An arrogant bunch of humans couldn't accept that vision, and so they destroyed my sister's dream. That is all you need to know.

[It's as new to her as it is to him: trusting and being trusted. She's never been good at it, not even at her best; certainly not after so many things happened. There's a pause while she takes in the length of the reply before her own answer comes.]

[Ami misunderstands if she thinks Mithos trusts her. Everyone should know the terrible things that happened to his sister, so they can feel the crushing guilt for what humanity's foolishness caused. Everything else about her, though, is solely his. The way she played music for him at night, the way she smiled, the way she gently encouraged him, the way he made her happier than anything else. Nobody else deserves to come anywhere close to to touching that.]

Apologies don't fix anything.

I know.

[If they could, she could be better than she is; maybe she could even have some semblance of peace of mind.]

[He frowns down at the page for a moment before closing the journal, perhaps more harshly than is necessary. Why apologize if you already know it does absolutely nothing? How stupid. Apologies don't bring back the dead, they don't heal the pain. They are as good as worthless.]

[Ami is left alone to stare at the journal for a long while. She did something wrong again.]

six [action/voice]

Re: [Written]

[Written]

Re: [Written]

[Written]

Re: [Written]

[Written]

Re: [Written]

[Written]

Re: [Written]

[Written] 1/2

[Written]

Re: [Written]

[Written]

Re: [Written]

[Written]

Re: [Written]

[...not...written]

Re: [...not...written]