(no subject)
[backdated to earlier this eveninnnnnnnnnngggggggg]
[Yoshiya]
Are you enjoying the aftermath? Did you enjoy yourself then? You certainly seemed to be in the throes of it, either way.
I suppose you'd tell me you didn't care. [and maybe you don't. she wishes sometimes that when people hurt her, it was possible for her to hurt them back. or that she was better at taking the chances she got. either one.]
I suppose it must be a lot easier, not caring about any of it. Lucky you.
[/Yoshiya]
[if you think you might be on the following filter, you are.]
[Friends & Acquaintances]
I suppose we've all answered a lot of these by now. I guess this is redundant, but I don't know everyone's status, and I'd like to. Please let me know you're all right. Thank you.
[/Friends and Acquaintances]
[People who care]
[dictated in a calm tone;] I think I'm going to go out to the outposts for a while. I know Roy has been working on the buildings there, so maybe I'll bunk there for a while.
I'd read the journals and everything. I'm not... really leaving. I just... [pause. swallow.] You know, it becomes even more obvious when things like this happen, that we need somewhere to go. I need to pitch in more. And I think I need to get out of the castle for a while. So.
[/People who care]
[Apostles]
I imagine that you must all be feeling hurt and tired right now.
If... you're reading this, this isn't the first time the castle has messed with people. And I... think, that if you feel guilt, and sorrow, for the suffering that's happened and the people who are hurting now... then, you should come back. If you're feeling the backlash from what happened, that means you really regret it, right? And if you really regret it, you're not likely to repeat it.
People here... a lot of them have committed crimes, and hurt people. We all have to live with each other.
I know it's probably bad right now. And a bad time. So... I'm sorry, too.
[/Apostles]
Once upon a time... there lived a very old woman.
[pause, sigh.] She'd lived for a very long time. She was old and her joints creaked like frozen tree branches in the wind. She'd outlived all her husbands, and now she carried on in a simple life on her own, dwelling in a small hut. In the summer she wove rush mats for farmers and travelers to wear to keep the rain and sun off. In winter, her old hands were too sore and not nimble enough to weave, and she lived off the money she'd earned, and shared some of her modest bounty with the birds that lived around her hut, because winters were hard for them too, and she enjoyed listening to their singing, and talking to them when she felt like it, because she was old enough to get away with things like that and lonely enough to feel a need for it, too.
Mostly she lived quietly, without many people noticing her. The only time she talked to other humans was when she sold them the mats she wove, and when she went into town to buy rice. Other than that, her main company was the birds.
It came as a very great surprise one morning when there was a hard knock on her door, and a hard voice calling her name.
"Chizue, Chizue!" It was a man's voice, and she rolled out of her pallet in some surprise. She was a nimble old woman, in spite of her old hands, and the voice wasn't one she recognized... which was strange, as travelers were rare, and how would a traveler know her name anyway? Maybe one of the townspeople had told him, but she hadn't thought many of them knew her name either. So she wondered, while she fumbled the door open. "Chizue, let me in!"
But once she saw the man, she knew why he'd known her name. He wasn't a regular man, that's why; he had solid black eyes, and hair the yellow of a harvest sunset, nearly white under winter sun. Dogs snarled and groveled around him and he kicked them back. He had a bony face and a knife on his belt, and she recognized him from rumor and story. Death was at her door, and he was calling for her name.
Chizue stood in the threshold, but she wouldn't let him in. "What do you want?" she asked. She was quite afraid, but she was also very old, so if he struck her dead on the spot, she wouldn't be missing much.
"I'm here to take you away, Chizue," he said. "You've been in the world long enough. It's your time to die."
Now, Chizue didn't have the most luxurious life, but she enjoyed it even without that, and she wasn't inclined to die yet. Besides, who'd feed the birds if she died? That was the main thing on her mind when she said "No. Get out of my house, sir, and take your hounds with you. I don't wish to go right now."
"Chizue, you must," he said. But she shook her head and stood firmly in her house.
He pulled her and cajoled her, but she was a strong old woman, and she was refusing to be too scared, besides. He was more used to people being tractable. He pulled on her arms, and she wouldn't let go of the doorframe. He changed tactics and tried to push her inside, but she stumped her feet hard against the floor and wouldn't budge. Finally, they came to an impasse, and Death tried the other thing, which was to make a deal with people. He rarely met anyone so stubborn, but even the stubborn ones tended to lose his deals.
"Chizue," he said, "If you can answer me three questions, then I'll let you alone for a while longer."
Chizue had been starting to feel tired, actually, so she was relieved when he proposed riddles. "What questions?"
"Agree first."
[a pause. Rin takes a drink of water before continuing.]
She tried to persuade him, but he remained implacable, and at last she relented. "Three questions answered correctly, and you give me another score of years."
Death nodded, and smiled hard, and Chizue felt a little more afraid.
"The first question is for you to tell me what your present was, on your first birthday. I will come back for the answer at this time tomorrow and you must tell me. If you can't answer, you come with me. If you answer correctly, I give you the next question."
Chizue stared at him, and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. She hadn't the faintest idea of the right answer. She was very old, her first birthday had been a very long time ago, and no one else was around that would remember it, much less what her gift had been.
But there was no point in panicking. She went to put hot water on, and then went out to feed the birds, like she had every day for all the years past in her life.
She told them her troubles while they pecked at the frozen ground. "I must tell Death what my gift for my first birthday was. How am I supposed to know? My memory is going as it is, I can't possibly give an answer to that.
She had to, though. So there Chizue sat, thinking away, trying to come up with the correct answer.
But as the sun slowly warmed her yard, she heard a funny cadence in the song the birds were whistling. All her years of life, and she hadn't heard them chime like this. "Cruuumb-cake," they almost seemed to sing. "Cruuumb-cake."
Chizue turned her head to listen closer. Then, all at once she remembered.
She jumped to her feet, and the birds scattered. "That's right," she shouted, laughing in her crackly voice. "A crumb-cake! That was my first birthday's present! My parents made me a delicious crumb-cake and I ate it up, except for half, which was stolen by my older brother! Oh, thank you, birds!" She could have danced, right there in her yard, and maybe she did a bit. It was an important memory, after all - the birds, being gossipy sorts, had chatted about it when she was children, and they chatted about it to their children too. Chizue was saved, at least from the first question.
So, next morning, she met Death standing and smiling, and she told him cheerfully "My first birthday's present was a crumb cake."
Death raised his pale eyebrows and smiled thinly. "You are correct. Now for my second question..." Chizue cocked her head, more confident now, waiting. "What was the present for your second birthday?" he asked her.
Chizue nodded and waved him cheerfully upon his way, since she had a solution now, and promptly after that she went and fed the birds, and listened to them like she had before, and made sense of their whistling in the same way. "Whirl-lee-gig," they whistled, "whirl-lee-gig," and Chiyo laughed and laughed because of course her second birthday's present had been a whirligig. She had loved playing with it, until eventually her older brother broke it. She'd forgiven him for that a long time ago, though.
The next morning, Death came again, at the same time, to have her answer. "My second birthday's present was a whirligig," Chizue told him cheerfully, and Death nodded, because the birds had remembered that right too.
"Now for my third question," he said, and Chizue smiled cheerfully, confident, but Death smiled hard, very confident too.
[another abrupt pause, murmuring voices, the cha-ching of a cash register. "Do you want a receipt?" Rin asks, and then writes one up for her customer. Then continues.]
"Chizue," he said, "for this question, you must tell me what the first words were that your mother said, on the very morning that you were born."
Chizue paused here, because as far away as the other birthdays were in her mind, the day of her birth itself wasn't even a ripple of memory. But she did have the birds, so she nodded and she sent it off and when she went to feed them she waited for their answer.
She waited, and waited, and fed them another handful of rice, and then two handfuls, and then another, for good measure, just in case. But that time, the birds had no answer for her... because what Chizue didn't remember, couldn't remember, was that she'd been a difficult birth, and her mother had labored all winter night to deliver her into the world... and all that long night it had been storming ferociously, the wind and sleet beating about the eaves of her house like it wanted to stove the little hut in. And the birds? They'd been huddled together under the eaves, or hidden in the thickets, trying to brave through the cold. Even with their sharp ears, there was no way they could have heard what Chizue's mother had said, the calming morning after her daughter was born.
So, Chizue was without her answer. And this was the last question, her last obstacle to send Death away for another score of years... it was the most important. Without an answer, or with the correct answer, she was lost. So Chizue began to feel afraid.
She was lying abed when Death came to her house the next morning, smiling, sure he'd won. She didn't meet him at the door; he slid the door open, and came in with his dogs to stand by her pallet, where Chizue was sheltered under her comforter, shivering.
"Do you have an answer for me, Chizue?" he asked, and she looked up at him, her eyes black with fear, and...
[...]
[a few girls' voices murmuring, footsteps moving back and forth, the slide of a door. Rin speaks up louder, sounding tired. She's talking to some of the other townspeople who work in the shop.]
I know it's quiet, Cynthia. It doesn't look like it's going to get any busier.
Look, why don't you just go home? I'll close up by myself. Look, don't worry about it, I can do it. Just go home, have a nice evening. No, I don't mind. I'll pay you for the hour, and just... go home. Take care. Go out. I don't know.
It's all right. Goodbye.
[YEAH. she's closing up in Breath of Earth, in town. YEAH, Rin went to work, like ya do. mfing castle won't screw up her routine ;/ so, closing out this filter clusterfuck and long story with an open post too. /crams everything into every post ever YEAHHHHH]
[Yoshiya]
Are you enjoying the aftermath? Did you enjoy yourself then? You certainly seemed to be in the throes of it, either way.
I suppose you'd tell me you didn't care. [and maybe you don't. she wishes sometimes that when people hurt her, it was possible for her to hurt them back. or that she was better at taking the chances she got. either one.]
I suppose it must be a lot easier, not caring about any of it. Lucky you.
[/Yoshiya]
[if you think you might be on the following filter, you are.]
[Friends & Acquaintances]
I suppose we've all answered a lot of these by now. I guess this is redundant, but I don't know everyone's status, and I'd like to. Please let me know you're all right. Thank you.
[/Friends and Acquaintances]
[People who care]
[dictated in a calm tone;] I think I'm going to go out to the outposts for a while. I know Roy has been working on the buildings there, so maybe I'll bunk there for a while.
I'd read the journals and everything. I'm not... really leaving. I just... [pause. swallow.] You know, it becomes even more obvious when things like this happen, that we need somewhere to go. I need to pitch in more. And I think I need to get out of the castle for a while. So.
[/People who care]
[Apostles]
I imagine that you must all be feeling hurt and tired right now.
If... you're reading this, this isn't the first time the castle has messed with people. And I... think, that if you feel guilt, and sorrow, for the suffering that's happened and the people who are hurting now... then, you should come back. If you're feeling the backlash from what happened, that means you really regret it, right? And if you really regret it, you're not likely to repeat it.
People here... a lot of them have committed crimes, and hurt people. We all have to live with each other.
I know it's probably bad right now. And a bad time. So... I'm sorry, too.
[/Apostles]
Once upon a time... there lived a very old woman.
[pause, sigh.] She'd lived for a very long time. She was old and her joints creaked like frozen tree branches in the wind. She'd outlived all her husbands, and now she carried on in a simple life on her own, dwelling in a small hut. In the summer she wove rush mats for farmers and travelers to wear to keep the rain and sun off. In winter, her old hands were too sore and not nimble enough to weave, and she lived off the money she'd earned, and shared some of her modest bounty with the birds that lived around her hut, because winters were hard for them too, and she enjoyed listening to their singing, and talking to them when she felt like it, because she was old enough to get away with things like that and lonely enough to feel a need for it, too.
Mostly she lived quietly, without many people noticing her. The only time she talked to other humans was when she sold them the mats she wove, and when she went into town to buy rice. Other than that, her main company was the birds.
It came as a very great surprise one morning when there was a hard knock on her door, and a hard voice calling her name.
"Chizue, Chizue!" It was a man's voice, and she rolled out of her pallet in some surprise. She was a nimble old woman, in spite of her old hands, and the voice wasn't one she recognized... which was strange, as travelers were rare, and how would a traveler know her name anyway? Maybe one of the townspeople had told him, but she hadn't thought many of them knew her name either. So she wondered, while she fumbled the door open. "Chizue, let me in!"
But once she saw the man, she knew why he'd known her name. He wasn't a regular man, that's why; he had solid black eyes, and hair the yellow of a harvest sunset, nearly white under winter sun. Dogs snarled and groveled around him and he kicked them back. He had a bony face and a knife on his belt, and she recognized him from rumor and story. Death was at her door, and he was calling for her name.
Chizue stood in the threshold, but she wouldn't let him in. "What do you want?" she asked. She was quite afraid, but she was also very old, so if he struck her dead on the spot, she wouldn't be missing much.
"I'm here to take you away, Chizue," he said. "You've been in the world long enough. It's your time to die."
Now, Chizue didn't have the most luxurious life, but she enjoyed it even without that, and she wasn't inclined to die yet. Besides, who'd feed the birds if she died? That was the main thing on her mind when she said "No. Get out of my house, sir, and take your hounds with you. I don't wish to go right now."
"Chizue, you must," he said. But she shook her head and stood firmly in her house.
He pulled her and cajoled her, but she was a strong old woman, and she was refusing to be too scared, besides. He was more used to people being tractable. He pulled on her arms, and she wouldn't let go of the doorframe. He changed tactics and tried to push her inside, but she stumped her feet hard against the floor and wouldn't budge. Finally, they came to an impasse, and Death tried the other thing, which was to make a deal with people. He rarely met anyone so stubborn, but even the stubborn ones tended to lose his deals.
"Chizue," he said, "If you can answer me three questions, then I'll let you alone for a while longer."
Chizue had been starting to feel tired, actually, so she was relieved when he proposed riddles. "What questions?"
"Agree first."
[a pause. Rin takes a drink of water before continuing.]
She tried to persuade him, but he remained implacable, and at last she relented. "Three questions answered correctly, and you give me another score of years."
Death nodded, and smiled hard, and Chizue felt a little more afraid.
"The first question is for you to tell me what your present was, on your first birthday. I will come back for the answer at this time tomorrow and you must tell me. If you can't answer, you come with me. If you answer correctly, I give you the next question."
Chizue stared at him, and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. She hadn't the faintest idea of the right answer. She was very old, her first birthday had been a very long time ago, and no one else was around that would remember it, much less what her gift had been.
But there was no point in panicking. She went to put hot water on, and then went out to feed the birds, like she had every day for all the years past in her life.
She told them her troubles while they pecked at the frozen ground. "I must tell Death what my gift for my first birthday was. How am I supposed to know? My memory is going as it is, I can't possibly give an answer to that.
She had to, though. So there Chizue sat, thinking away, trying to come up with the correct answer.
But as the sun slowly warmed her yard, she heard a funny cadence in the song the birds were whistling. All her years of life, and she hadn't heard them chime like this. "Cruuumb-cake," they almost seemed to sing. "Cruuumb-cake."
Chizue turned her head to listen closer. Then, all at once she remembered.
She jumped to her feet, and the birds scattered. "That's right," she shouted, laughing in her crackly voice. "A crumb-cake! That was my first birthday's present! My parents made me a delicious crumb-cake and I ate it up, except for half, which was stolen by my older brother! Oh, thank you, birds!" She could have danced, right there in her yard, and maybe she did a bit. It was an important memory, after all - the birds, being gossipy sorts, had chatted about it when she was children, and they chatted about it to their children too. Chizue was saved, at least from the first question.
So, next morning, she met Death standing and smiling, and she told him cheerfully "My first birthday's present was a crumb cake."
Death raised his pale eyebrows and smiled thinly. "You are correct. Now for my second question..." Chizue cocked her head, more confident now, waiting. "What was the present for your second birthday?" he asked her.
Chizue nodded and waved him cheerfully upon his way, since she had a solution now, and promptly after that she went and fed the birds, and listened to them like she had before, and made sense of their whistling in the same way. "Whirl-lee-gig," they whistled, "whirl-lee-gig," and Chiyo laughed and laughed because of course her second birthday's present had been a whirligig. She had loved playing with it, until eventually her older brother broke it. She'd forgiven him for that a long time ago, though.
The next morning, Death came again, at the same time, to have her answer. "My second birthday's present was a whirligig," Chizue told him cheerfully, and Death nodded, because the birds had remembered that right too.
"Now for my third question," he said, and Chizue smiled cheerfully, confident, but Death smiled hard, very confident too.
[another abrupt pause, murmuring voices, the cha-ching of a cash register. "Do you want a receipt?" Rin asks, and then writes one up for her customer. Then continues.]
"Chizue," he said, "for this question, you must tell me what the first words were that your mother said, on the very morning that you were born."
Chizue paused here, because as far away as the other birthdays were in her mind, the day of her birth itself wasn't even a ripple of memory. But she did have the birds, so she nodded and she sent it off and when she went to feed them she waited for their answer.
She waited, and waited, and fed them another handful of rice, and then two handfuls, and then another, for good measure, just in case. But that time, the birds had no answer for her... because what Chizue didn't remember, couldn't remember, was that she'd been a difficult birth, and her mother had labored all winter night to deliver her into the world... and all that long night it had been storming ferociously, the wind and sleet beating about the eaves of her house like it wanted to stove the little hut in. And the birds? They'd been huddled together under the eaves, or hidden in the thickets, trying to brave through the cold. Even with their sharp ears, there was no way they could have heard what Chizue's mother had said, the calming morning after her daughter was born.
So, Chizue was without her answer. And this was the last question, her last obstacle to send Death away for another score of years... it was the most important. Without an answer, or with the correct answer, she was lost. So Chizue began to feel afraid.
She was lying abed when Death came to her house the next morning, smiling, sure he'd won. She didn't meet him at the door; he slid the door open, and came in with his dogs to stand by her pallet, where Chizue was sheltered under her comforter, shivering.
"Do you have an answer for me, Chizue?" he asked, and she looked up at him, her eyes black with fear, and...
[...]
[a few girls' voices murmuring, footsteps moving back and forth, the slide of a door. Rin speaks up louder, sounding tired. She's talking to some of the other townspeople who work in the shop.]
I know it's quiet, Cynthia. It doesn't look like it's going to get any busier.
Look, why don't you just go home? I'll close up by myself. Look, don't worry about it, I can do it. Just go home, have a nice evening. No, I don't mind. I'll pay you for the hour, and just... go home. Take care. Go out. I don't know.
It's all right. Goodbye.
[YEAH. she's closing up in Breath of Earth, in town. YEAH, Rin went to work, like ya do. mfing castle won't screw up her routine ;/ so, closing out this filter clusterfuck and long story with an open post too. /crams everything into every post ever YEAHHHHH]