dramadramaduck | ( video. )

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[ and for a long moment, nothing at all seems to settle. and for a longer moment, nothing at all seems to pause. flickering in-and-out of existence. a broken up series of half-images. half-scenes. mangled and indiscernible. static interruptions. before what seems to fade and snow in is only a deeply reflective wall. metal, perhaps. before what seems to scramble in, is the figure of a rather usual figure, without the sprawl of a pristine bed. this time, awake. more alert. seated upon a bench, somewhere, as the feed displays his profile. as something, deep within the belly of this place, continues to hum on.

and there's a deep quiet in the way his mantle lays across his lap. a deep silence in the way his shoulders seem to rest without the weight of it. a strong level, and he does not seem to regard whatever records him in any fashion, though the wings that rest solemnly against his back shift from time to time. the uniform he wears, carefully manipulated to free them. and though they are not too large, they are familiar. somehow. they hold the shape of the bird who once rested beside him. that once spoke beside him, as he slept on. a strange and quiet albatross.

perhaps.

and they are deeply colored and heavy things. nearly healthy, beyond the occasion rough patches. the occasional nicked and tattered feather. a stranger sight in neater rows. layered. and -- there is the flicker of something else. a momentary flash of reddened skin over bone. strange, deep burns. circular, almost. imperfect. and though they seem to cause him no pain, the settling of wings disguises them again. no matter how softly rumpled, with some sleep, the exterior appears to be. but, it is a moment longer, before he comes to speak.

a moment longer, before his lips seem to move. a deep delay: ]

You've come again, Community. [ and his voice is surprisingly deep for his frame. without harsh edges. though it is not soft, either. firm, but gently, perhaps.

but, he turns his head. if slightly. regards the source, his eyes surprisingly red. penetrative. but, he does not say much. does not say anything else, at all. only blinks, if thoughtfully, before inclining his head. as if in understanding.

before the video, without too much delay, cuts out. ]

(ooc: deep-distance and his interference will be causing the delay, but it should be assumed it is only the former. sobs.)

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[She's tucked away in a quiet room in the dorms, away from Anthy but not for herself. She isn't effected but she doesn't want Anthy seeing the video-chat. She taps the side of her computer impatiently.]

Community sure likes taunting you, doesn't it.

[ his eyes seem to know and seem to shutter, as always. even when looking at her this agitated. even when hearing the tell-tale tapping he's become so accustomed to, as of late.

even so, his wings seem to settle squarely against his back. as though they'd always meant to. even so, his expression seems to shift into something thoughtful, as he feels the deep hum of the shangri-la, still circling. still orbiting. endlessly, for now. endlessly, for -

and his voice comes, with some delay. lips failing to synchronize properly with the video: ]

I've neglected it.

[ it's a simple explanation. he'd not been awake to talk to it, previously. and, much to his displeasure, it had come back to make sure he'd be conscious. this time. ]

[She continues her tapping for a while, thinking. Someone else might do it out of pure agitation but the movement allows her mind to focus while the body does something, anything--

Utena stretches one arm upwards with her fingers outstretched. Her other arm goes behind her head as she catches her elbow. Her movements are slow, methodical, even as her shoulders move in the practiced movements of stretching.]

You're a stubborn old man.

[She doesn't stop to say it, her tone disapproving. The upraised hand closes then opens as Utena makes a short sound of disapproval.]

Have to be more careful in a place like this.

[ there's almost a kind of relief that echoes in his posture as she calls him that. as he tips his head up. regards the sloping ceilings of whatever part of the ship this is, modified over such a long period. he remembers every piece of it. every stop they had to make. every moment of construction. the bridge, once the body. now the belly of the only place that could protect them fully.

even so, there is a definitive and quiet authority in the lay of his hands upon his lap. as he listens to the thought waves of those questioning minds that reach him, even here. some, coming and going. some remaining. ]

It's been chased off, for now. [ the community, he means. easier to dissuade it long enough to escape down here. even if it cost him energy. protecting his people from any exterior threats - even beyond the realm of these stars - was essential. ]

It may be my only chance to clear a heavier burden.

You always push yourself.

[She sighs, relaxing her arms and stopping the stretch. She just leans against her chair and taps the side of her leg.]

Maybe.

[ he tips his head to the side, one hand sliding up to rest gently against his headset. his wings only seem to stretch, as though stiff from resting. in this position, the scarred tissue only seems more gruesome: ]

It's a duty. [ his voice is firm, but it carries no harsh edges. it is only the actuality. ]

You push too hard and what will happen to them, then?

[She doesn't need to specify the obvious.]

[ there's a soft pause, almost as though it is weighing the tangibility of those feelings. repeated in the faces of the mu. in the quieter way physis would speak to him. ]

Our dreams will be carried on.

[ someone will replace him. he knows it. even if they have not located them. there is a promise of it, somewhere. here, perhaps. ]

As it always does.

... They're the same. [ the same as hers were. ] I suppose that doesn't come as much of a surprise.

It seems.

[ but there is a definite difference, in the delay. in the way his lips do not seem to sync with the video. as his hands fold neatly over his mantle. a deep color. heavy and light. and he glances to the source, after a moment. wings shifting, as though thinking: ]

They'd felt familiar.

This virus makes somewhat more sense now.

It's become more coherent.

[ a sort of agreement. a sort of extension of thought. and there is barely a clean overlap here, as well. even as the interference rumbles on, there is the sound of something moving beyond him. broken up into pieces. a backdrop. ]

A coherent virus. I've no doubt many would say that was a first.

Is there some kind of interference with your signal?

It's very likely.

[ there's a slight humor in the lay of his shoulders. for just a moment. held for a beat or two longer because of delay. because of the way his wings shift in the barest of movements. as though thinking of what may be the cause (though he knows). ]

It's possible. My device needs replacing.

Is that difficult, where you are?

No. [ and the seemingly answer is simple, though he elaborates: ] The camera isn't crucial.

So it's more a matter of removing the camera than complete replacement?

Yes. [ there's a small pause: ] Its parts are worn.

Your wings look so... experienced. Like they've been through a lot. [ she was going to say "old", which would have been true. but that would also have been rude, and she has more tact than that.

Pearl's own wings float behind her, apparently causing her no trouble with her clothes. it's easy to see why this is the case; they're wispy, ethereal. nothing more than the smoky, light suggestion of wings, barely visible and certainly not solid. ]

I guess at least the community didn't interrupt your rest this time.

Is that so. [ and he can hear the undercurrent, there. he knows the age of them. the time of them. the endless hours of sleep within them. the passing of centuries. of lifetimes. so many countless memories, though he cannot remember his given name. cannot remember the place in which he was raised. cannot remember -

but, the shangri-la rumbles on. and he finds himself listening. listening to the passing of footsteps. floors and floors above. the thoughts of his crew, drifting. idle things. passing conversation. and he takes a moment to glance to her, to take in the nature of her wings. wondering: ]

It's demanded more attention.

Yes... [ and then all of a sudden, she looks embarrassed, like she just realised what a personal observation that really was. oops. ] Oh, but it's not a bad thing! That just makes them even more impressive, really. I'm sorry, that was really quite a personal thing to say, wasn't it...

The community seems to do that a lot with you. That's really pushy of it.

It's no trouble. [ there's an assurance there, beyond the fainter curve of a smile. he has dealt with many children. may are part of those he protects. but, there is a fainter pause. a kind of gently rolling of words off his shoulders. as if it is just as he says. ]

You come to adapt to it.

Edited 2012-06-03 22:27 (UTC)

Oh, good. [ the relief, it is palpable. ] I didn't mean to cause any offence, so I'm glad.

That's true. After a while, you really do just get used to dealing with it, don't you? Even if it is a bit of a bother sometimes.

I understand.

[ but, he's absently smoothing the wrinkles from the mantle that lay over his lap. thoughtful: ]

Yes. If a solution can't be found, then we will grow around it.

I think someone tried to solve things a few years ago, but it didn't work out. Something in the community fought back and caused a lot of trouble. I guess it couldn't hurt to try again if people had an idea and were careful about it, but... I think most of the time we've been better at managing to live with it than a lot of people think. Or at least, that's how I feel about things!

[ there's a long pause here, as if he had been thinking. he's experienced this. firsthand. he's seen the way it has reacted to his attempts to block it, after all. he knew he could not win, but if it might keep it from his people -- ] Is that so.

[ and his wings move. a small twitch or reflex: ] If one approach fails, then you must learn from your failings.

And try to find a different way, you mean? [ that makes sense. it's the way mr. nick always approaches things. ] Maybe if all the people who were good with computers got together for another try... I know that people have tried to throw off the viruses sometimes by throwing parties, but that doesn't seem to have worked much either.

[ there's a fainter inclination of his head. long before the words come to match-up: ] Yes.

[ and there's a smaller pause, again. perhaps more from interference. perhaps a little of both thought and it. and it is not distinguishable, even as he speaks again, if a little softer: ] I see. [ a smaller beat: ] What were the results of the last?

The last try with computers, you mean? [ she frowns, trying to remember. ] It was a while ago and I was still quite young, but... I think what happened was that the community rejected the attempt to try and change the way it worked. Or it might have been something else inside the community, I'm not sure. But anyway... either way, a lot of people had computer problems for a few days afterwards. It was almost like the community was hitting back at people for trying to change things.

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