Sayo | Mushishi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
memoryboxes) wrote2011-03-15 03:07 am
memoryboxes) wrote2011-03-15 03:07 am
Entry tags:
12th Memory [March 15th, daytime][Action/Voice]
[Sayo hadn't been getting out as much as usual, of course.
It was a simple pattern for her. She would nod off silently at her loom, and then wake up with a crippling jolt that left her unable to get up for a few minutes—she didn't want to bring them up, those remaining, fractured memories, even though the plagued her so. Nami had helped to distill a little bit of her pains by easing her guilt, but it didn't fix the waking nightmares she'd had recently, and while she would never admit it she'd fallen into a small depression that was hard to break free from. Loneliness, sudden panic, the desire to simply sit and wait for a new day...
This wasn't usual. This was irregular, and she hated it.
She goes to work and keeps up her cheery look, but she feels sluggish and tired so often lately that she wishes she could sleep it away. It's not right, she tells herself, for you to feel like this... Why is the draft still bothering her? The others—they're strong, and they got over it, so she needed to, too. Remember? You'd done well, there. So why now—
She's been going for late night walks at 12, 1, 2 in the morning, on the bridge near her housing. This particular night, she finds herself watching the stars a little earlier than she usual has been--is it really only 8?--and recalls her conversation with Ginko, the night she'd learned of her husband. And before she knew it, she was leaned over the railing, hands clasped tightly, crying her eyes out.
It's so difficult.
Why won't I forget what I want to forget?
. . .
The next morning, on her way to work, she she hears a little shuffling noise behind her—followed by quiet chirps. When she turns to look at them, she finds four baby... quails? They were quails, but she didn't know what they were at all. All she did know was that they were babies.]
...Oh, dear...
[She walks clear across the village with them trailing her, and finally she stops... and despite her worry for where the heck their mother is, an appreciative smile breaks across her face. A little while later, she breaks the depressed routine of sitting and hoping for something good to happen, she asks a question to the public:]
[Voice]
...What sort of creatures do you have in your world?
In mine, we have little creatures that not everyone can see with their eye... They're called mushi, and they cover the forests from top to bottom. I've heard they have many roles and different ways of living... but I've admittedly never been able to see them. I wish I could, though... I think such types of life would be amazing to see.
It was a simple pattern for her. She would nod off silently at her loom, and then wake up with a crippling jolt that left her unable to get up for a few minutes—she didn't want to bring them up, those remaining, fractured memories, even though the plagued her so. Nami had helped to distill a little bit of her pains by easing her guilt, but it didn't fix the waking nightmares she'd had recently, and while she would never admit it she'd fallen into a small depression that was hard to break free from. Loneliness, sudden panic, the desire to simply sit and wait for a new day...
This wasn't usual. This was irregular, and she hated it.
She goes to work and keeps up her cheery look, but she feels sluggish and tired so often lately that she wishes she could sleep it away. It's not right, she tells herself, for you to feel like this... Why is the draft still bothering her? The others—they're strong, and they got over it, so she needed to, too. Remember? You'd done well, there. So why now—
She's been going for late night walks at 12, 1, 2 in the morning, on the bridge near her housing. This particular night, she finds herself watching the stars a little earlier than she usual has been--is it really only 8?--and recalls her conversation with Ginko, the night she'd learned of her husband. And before she knew it, she was leaned over the railing, hands clasped tightly, crying her eyes out.
It's so difficult.
Why won't I forget what I want to forget?
. . .
The next morning, on her way to work, she she hears a little shuffling noise behind her—followed by quiet chirps. When she turns to look at them, she finds four baby... quails? They were quails, but she didn't know what they were at all. All she did know was that they were babies.]
...Oh, dear...
[She walks clear across the village with them trailing her, and finally she stops... and despite her worry for where the heck their mother is, an appreciative smile breaks across her face. A little while later, she breaks the depressed routine of sitting and hoping for something good to happen, she asks a question to the public:]
[Voice]
...What sort of creatures do you have in your world?
In mine, we have little creatures that not everyone can see with their eye... They're called mushi, and they cover the forests from top to bottom. I've heard they have many roles and different ways of living... but I've admittedly never been able to see them. I wish I could, though... I think such types of life would be amazing to see.
[Voice]
That depends on what you happen to be. Are you a living being?
Re: [Voice]
[Voice]
You surely must. The only creatures that lack blood are the dead and certain demons, and you have stated you are neither one of those.
Re: [Voice]
[Voice]
[Or perhaps...was it I who had truly forgotten what I had renounced during that fated encounter?]
Re: [Voice]
[Voice]
Re: [Voice]
That's my belief, at least.
[Voice]
Re: [Voice]
[Voice]
Re: [Voice]
[Voice]
Does this eating cause pain or is there any sensation at all to show its presence?
Re: [Voice]