[ There's a long pause while Ronan weighs the decency of doing this in person versus the heightened likelihood that he'll fuck something up if they do. In the end, with only shitty options before him, he settles on: ]
Upon pressing play, the audio is abrupt and startling with a speaker-screeching squelch, accompanied by a faint and muffled humming that tapers off just as it's starting to get coherent.
"MONSTER..."
There's a quality to the voice that's picked up as the "eyes" of this video clip are cast down upon a sight -- something deep and rumbling, something that, if played through the network's internal linkups, would make one's ribcage drum. Something deep, something old.
The sight, though:
A canvas of gold sullied in dark reds and blacks, speckled in scales and stretched skin. A pole of wood has pierced through this canvas, and that's where much of the brightest red pools and bubbles over, starting to stream through the grooves the scales make. It risks flooding the glassy, amber eye that stares upward.
"THE GODS...WILL NOT FORGIVE THIS...NOR LET IT...GO UNPUNISHED..."
A rumbling overtakes the audio, followed by a loud rush of what must be air -- at least, up until the pole in view jerks suddenly, rending some of that golden flesh, splitting it, exposing muscle and glimpses of bone underneath. It's not a squelch this time, because the rumbling returns, louder, to the point where the audio just cuts out into static.
The faintest bit of a chuckle is picked up once the audio starts to fuzzily creep back in, punctuated by a soft, chiding tsking.
"Listen to you," murmurs a voice, much clearer now. The owner of the video's "eyes," as it were. It's a gentle, unnervingly mild tone -- condescending in a way. "Wasting your last breath...on someone who will never care what you say.
[ Anathema's voice is warm and companionable as ever, and she kicks off the conversation as if they were already mid-conversation, as if she's picking up a topic they were already discussing: ]
Question the first: How are you? No bullshitting.
Question the second: Do you think you'd be able to run the shop by yourself for a couple weeks? Not tomorrow or anything, but— in general. It can obviously be on reduced hours during.
Yeah. The fact that it's commonplace and happens relatively often doesn't— really make it any easier, either. I've lost a few friends here, so I know how you feel.
And exactly, actually. My girlfriend — Sal, have you met her yet? — pointed out how we haven't really had any time off throughout the various insane shit that happens here, so it's about time.
[ also teasingly, as if she's taking him entirely at face value: ] You and I already live together and work together. Vacation together and people might start saying that we're disgustingly co-dependent. It is a bit of a miracle, actually, that we get along so well — if I haven't mentioned it lately, Adam, you've got a good head on your shoulders. You're good people. I'm glad you showed up.
[ look, she's in a good mood and he's just reminded her that people tend to port out; she needs to appreciate her friends while they're here!! ]
But anyway, that'd be lovely. I'd tell her to be on her best behaviour and everything. If she says anything outrageous, I disavow all responsibility.
[ there's a fond warmth in her voice when she talks about sal, too; mocking but affectionately so. ]
A miracle! Anathema how dare. [ He's laughing, at least there's that. ] I'm glad you think I have a good head on my shoulders. I think we'd be in trouble other wise.
I'm sure she's lovely, and I can't wait to pass my judgement. [ You can practically hear the smile in his voice, he's really happy for her. ] Just give me a heads up when you go so I can post temporary hours.
Oh hey while I've got you. I might see about fixing that old cabinet in the back. The one we want to put all the tea in? I'll try and get that mounted that this weekend.
I tried to talk to the church about taking it back but, they shoved a box at me and told me I forgot it and slammed the door in my face.
[ He groans. ] I think I'm going to sell it. I tried covering it with a table cloth the other day. I went to make tea for a client and caught her staring at the table lost in a trance.
A of all, that's incredibly disturbing. I mean, I know we're partially supposed to project the image of being a spooky psychic parlour and it's good for the ambiance and all, but still—
B of all, they gave you more things??
[ They are never going to be rid of the creepy church's creepy yard sale. ]
Yeah, I... wouldn't. We should scry over both pieces now that you have them, just in case we can pick up on something, but I don't trust it either way. Goodness knows I wouldn't want us to be the next epicenter of some kind of horrifying extradimensional portal to an arachnid-world or something, and it being in all the Majority Report headlines.
[ It's been a few days since Adam's seen Anathema around the house. Not entirely unheard-of — she sometimes goes and spends her nights elsewhere — but it's stranger still when he goes in to unlock the shop for the day and she doesn't appear. She never misses a shift if she can help it; in fact, she's usually early to everything, already sipping a matcha latte from a nearby coffee shop by the time he gets in.
Her communicator and network ID is deactivated, too.
The radio silence goes on for a week, before a harried-looking solicitor shows up at the door of Jeopardy #004, knocks, and delivers a stuffed folder into Adam's hands, containing a stack of paperwork and a letter, in handwritten and surprisingly archaic cursive.
Anathema's ancestor had once sent messages ahead to the future, tidying everything up in advance as much as she could, and it turns out that Anathema is much the same: ]
In the Event of My Unexpected & Inconvenient Disappearance —
Dear Adam,
If you're receiving this package, it's because I haven't been around for a week and my ID has remained deactivated, thus indicating a Port-Out. I don't want to make this melodramatic, because who knows, it might all be temporary — this happened back in January 2020 — and I might be back soon, but I'd rather not leave any loose ends hanging in the interim. The customers were extremely put-out last time.
You have custody of the shop in my absence, whether temporary or permanent. If you don't actually want the responsibility (I know something of unexpected & unintended mantles that you never asked for—), that's fine too: the owner didn't have any imPort employees before me, so you can hand the management back to her if you like.
But you're a good man with a sensible head on your shoulders, so I know it'd be in good hands with you. You'd be amazed, how rare common sense actually is.
And at the risk of embarrassing myself utterly if I return tomorrow, but because I do think people ought to hear these things: I've loved living with you and working with you, and I consider you my best friend in this place. You'd think it would be too much exposure to someone, inviting a housemate to work with you as well, and I prepared myself for disaster— but it actually worked out marvelously. I'd do it again anyday.
My rather stupid precognition means I can only see about some 5 minutes ahead, so I'm not sure if I'll return. But in the event that I don't: it's been a pleasure, Adam Parrish.
Yrs, Anathema Device
PS: You need a haircut. You keep forgetting to get one, so that seems safe enough to say in advance. PPS: The odd glowing ball in my desk is a memory holovid, not any kind of cursed artifact. Safe to donate to the imPort Museum. PPPS: From past accounts, it seems likely we have no memory of this place whenever we're gone. But regardless, the sentiment holds true: If I knew to miss you, I know I would miss you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text... on the 17th
Date: 2020-02-19 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 02:51 am (UTC)The last thing I remember was looking for Bryde and going back to school. It's really hazy.
no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 02:59 am (UTC)we broke up two years ago
1/2
Date: 2020-02-19 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 03:02 am (UTC)What did we do? What did I do?
Christ, Ronan.
no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 03:08 am (UTC)But you're right. It's both in the past and not going to matter.
So tell me about yourself. A lot has changed hasn't it?
no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 03:16 am (UTC)been with him over a year now
mostly wanted to tell you that before you found out from the internet or some shit
no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 03:20 am (UTC)I had a feeling when I was asked: "how much do you like to share".
[ Wow this hurts. It takes him a minute to send the next text. ]
Are you happy with him?
no subject
Date: 2020-02-19 03:27 am (UTC)you don't want the answer to that
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From:VIDEO//source: anon//postdate:03.15//TW: gore, eye trauma
Date: 2020-03-17 11:06 pm (UTC)"MONSTER..."
There's a quality to the voice that's picked up as the "eyes" of this video clip are cast down upon a sight -- something deep and rumbling, something that, if played through the network's internal linkups, would make one's ribcage drum. Something deep, something old.
The sight, though:
A canvas of gold sullied in dark reds and blacks, speckled in scales and stretched skin. A pole of wood has pierced through this canvas, and that's where much of the brightest red pools and bubbles over, starting to stream through the grooves the scales make. It risks flooding the glassy, amber eye that stares upward.
"THE GODS...WILL NOT FORGIVE THIS...NOR LET IT...GO UNPUNISHED..."
A rumbling overtakes the audio, followed by a loud rush of what must be air -- at least, up until the pole in view jerks suddenly, rending some of that golden flesh, splitting it, exposing muscle and glimpses of bone underneath. It's not a squelch this time, because the rumbling returns, louder, to the point where the audio just cuts out into static.
The faintest bit of a chuckle is picked up once the audio starts to fuzzily creep back in, punctuated by a soft, chiding tsking.
"Listen to you," murmurs a voice, much clearer now. The owner of the video's "eyes," as it were. It's a gentle, unnervingly mild tone -- condescending in a way. "Wasting your last breath...on someone who will never care what you say.
"There'll be no epitaph for you."
SQUELCH.
voice
Date: 2020-06-23 03:02 am (UTC)[ Anathema's voice is warm and companionable as ever, and she kicks off the conversation as if they were already mid-conversation, as if she's picking up a topic they were already discussing: ]
Question the first: How are you? No bullshitting.
Question the second: Do you think you'd be able to run the shop by yourself for a couple weeks? Not tomorrow or anything, but— in general. It can obviously be on reduced hours during.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-23 03:06 am (UTC)I'm okay? Okay. Kenzi being going's kinda... it's hard, but it's the nature of this place isn't it? [ He chuckles a bit. ]
As to your second question, sure. I can do that. Going on vacation or something?
no subject
Date: 2020-06-23 03:14 am (UTC)And exactly, actually. My girlfriend — Sal, have you met her yet? — pointed out how we haven't really had any time off throughout the various insane shit that happens here, so it's about time.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-23 03:22 am (UTC)I actually don't think I've met Sal? Clearly we should fix that. Maybe after your vacation, we could all grab lunch or something?
no subject
Date: 2020-06-25 03:42 am (UTC)[ look, she's in a good mood and he's just reminded her that people tend to port out; she needs to appreciate her friends while they're here!! ]
But anyway, that'd be lovely. I'd tell her to be on her best behaviour and everything. If she says anything outrageous, I disavow all responsibility.
[ there's a fond warmth in her voice when she talks about sal, too; mocking but affectionately so. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-06-25 01:12 pm (UTC)I'm sure she's lovely, and I can't wait to pass my judgement. [ You can practically hear the smile in his voice, he's really happy for her. ] Just give me a heads up when you go so I can post temporary hours.
Oh hey while I've got you. I might see about fixing that old cabinet in the back. The one we want to put all the tea in? I'll try and get that mounted that this weekend.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-28 05:08 am (UTC)[ The last colleague was a bit of a mess. She loved Klaus as a friend, too, but— needless to say, he was a mess. ]
Speaking of furniture. Have you decided what you want to do about that creepy table?
no subject
Date: 2020-06-28 05:20 am (UTC)[ He groans. ] I think I'm going to sell it. I tried covering it with a table cloth the other day. I went to make tea for a client and caught her staring at the table lost in a trance.
No idea where the table cloth went.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-28 05:52 am (UTC)A of all, that's incredibly disturbing. I mean, I know we're partially supposed to project the image of being a spooky psychic parlour and it's good for the ambiance and all, but still—
B of all, they gave you more things??
[ They are never going to be rid of the creepy church's creepy yard sale. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-06-28 06:09 am (UTC)Maybe Iβll just keep that somewhere else.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-28 06:34 am (UTC)It'd be really embarrassing.
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From:a delivery.
Date: 2020-11-11 05:10 pm (UTC)Her communicator and network ID is deactivated, too.
The radio silence goes on for a week, before a harried-looking solicitor shows up at the door of Jeopardy #004, knocks, and delivers a stuffed folder into Adam's hands, containing a stack of paperwork and a letter, in handwritten and surprisingly archaic cursive.
Anathema's ancestor had once sent messages ahead to the future, tidying everything up in advance as much as she could, and it turns out that Anathema is much the same: ]