[ BANG! crackle BANG! crackle. There's a sound of shattering glass in the background as someone jumps down from a ledge. ]

That's the end of THAT, now isn't it?

You--

I know. You weren't counting on me actually trying to stop you, were you? Well, I guess you just don't know yourself that well.

What do you want?

Revenge. If you'll excuse me-- [ Now someone is banging on a door, trying to break it open-- but there's a shout and a lot of static and things breaking as the feed cuts out. ]

[ ooc: I am weak. Replies will be from conductmyself the better to scare the crap out of you with. ]

I think I could write volumes about the past two days. That wasn't me, even a very young me, but it was uncannily close. I learned a number of things that I don't think I could have were I not a ten year-old boy at the time. There was a certain perspective I had about the world that I certainly never had in actuality, and through it I learned things that were similar to things I actually learned at that age while still being quite different. I probably would have grown into someone not unlike myself and yet not at all the same and taller. Now it's all over and although I have no remorse over it I have to wonder - after existing so fully and in such detail for two days, can someone like that really just disappear into nothingness? Where do dreams go when they end?

Ichihara is not a bad last name to have, though. Not that I intend to acquire one anytime soon.

The City is definitely a 1.

[ooc - not feeling so great, so tags will come tomorrow orz]

[ It's quiet here - not quite in an uncanny, dangerous sort of way, but in a peaceful sort of way. These woods aren't used to disturbances, but they're certainly disturbed now. What used to be a cliff face that jutted out from the trees several meters has been blown off and bits of singed wood and blackened rock litter the now slightly sloped face of the cliff. Clef's robes are singed as he lies near the edge of a cliff, against the smoking remains of what must have been a tree nearly as wide as a room and almost as tall as a skyscraper.

He does not deign to turn around and look at the still-pristine forest behind him as he picks himself up. Instead, he turns to the west and strains his eyes towards a patch of green near the horizon - or, rather, slightly above it. They made it, didn't they? ]

It's somewhat disorienting, seeing snow on the ground and realizing that a new year has just started.

It has been three and a half months since we had a prison or any form of government here. In the meantime, crime has run rampant and vigilanteism has cropped up to fill the role that the police department once did. I think it is safe to assume at this point that the deities do not wish to establish their own law or replace the building which they have destroyed. It is up to us to govern ourselves, and I believe that it is possible if we can agree on a simple and basic way of doing so.

Understandably, improving conditions here may be seen as an unnecessary distraction from the all-important task of finding a way out. In reality, they are one in the same. If that is not a convincing argument, perhaps you are willing to admit that you probably won't go home tomorrow and that more than likely, by the time you do, several new people will have come in. You must understand that it is in part our responsibility to leave this world better than we came into it for the sake of those who may come after us.

Enough is enough. What is needed are those who have some knowledge of law and justice as it is carried out on their own worlds, those with sound ideas who aren't quite sure how to bring them to light, and those who wish for change but do not know how to affect it. There is no plan, but that can be remedied easily if we all put forth the effort. Who is interested?

I understand that hanging up mistletoe and kissing underneath it is some sort of ritual on Earth. The evergreens I understand, but I'm not certain about the symbolism behind the kissing - eternal love, perhaps?

It's interesting how when one speaks of eternal love it is not the platonic variety that comes to mind, as though our feelings are by definition more transient in nature if they cannot be expressed romantically.

Is it more important that people think for themselves, or that they not harm others?

[ooc: he's genderswapped. Not that you can tell, until s/he speaks. That said, all replies are text by default. ]

[ the device comes on, briefly, in what sounds like a very noisy area. Sounds like its owner is talking to someone, too. ]

--Alright, alright. But could you at least keep it down?

[ Here is Clef. He's standing around on a stage, holding... a Rock Band controller. Yes, like the video game. And talking to someone off-screen. ]

--What's a sound check?

Oh?

[ presses a few buttons on the controller and nothing happens ] How do I...? There aren't even any resonating parts...

[ Finally, he hits the strum bar and TWAAAAaaaAAAAAaaaaaAAANG! Imagine a guitar chord, except REALLY LOUD and very sudden. And RIGHT IN CLEF'S EARS somehow, because he's wearing one of those headset mics. So, of course, he screams into the mic in surprise.


AND THE CROWD. GOES. WIIIIIIIIILLLLLD! A pair of red panties lands on his head.



And he has just no words. I'm serious. ]


[ooc: Action for people in the band, castmates, people in the audience, whatever. GO CRAZY! o/ Video for everyone else. ALSO GO CRAZY! \o ]

Oh, I've been busy.

There have been practical and casual experiments, such as, for example, finding out just how alone one needs to be in order to hear the ticking. If someone is in the living room and I walk off into the kitchen, am I alone? What if I walk down the hall and close the door? Can I use the ticking to tell if someone is trying to sneak up on me? Then there have been the existential questions: Is anyone ever truly alone? Is anyone ever not alone? Any important subject that comes to mind brings with it both types of queries.

Then there have been books - ones to put on shelves, ones to take home, and ones to read. Ones to accidentally set fire to and then never know how they end.

And of course there is always miscellany. Curses, food, sleep, other things that happen in between reading and asking questions.

So, yes, very busy and yet making no real progress in any direction. I managed to answer the practical and existential questions about solitude - it varies and results are difficult to produce; and no, respectively. But have I actually learned anything? Can I be certain that these answers won't be different tomorrow or for someone else? Not really, and in lieu of satisfaction I am left with more existential-sounding questions: What does it mean to learn something here? What does it mean to find a way out? What does it mean to be here at all?

What is progress, really? I have my suspicions.

[ flagged to roommates but not filtered ]

I'm leaving on Friday for an indeterminate length of time to go see the clock with some other people. I'll try not to get eaten and shall trust you to do similarly.

[ It's just. Clef. Standing there and looking off camera - the expression on his face can best be described as, 'mad at the world.'

Suddenly! Smoke. From the opposite direction. He senses the warmth of the flames, looks over (new expression: 'hoshit!') and tosses a water spell in that general direction. Then goes back to being mad at the world.

... You know, until it happens again. If you're the sort of person who is easily amused by angry people who flail around and set things on fire because they're angry and flaily you will probably get a kick out of this - especially the part where he runs across the screen from one fire to another, yelling unintelligibly and holding a blackened and smoking kitchen chair.

It's another one of those days. ]

[ It's one of those mornings that you can just feel before you're even fully awake. You feel constricted, like the sheets are wrapped tightly around you or your nightshirt is twisted around so that it feels too tight. You know, the kind of morning where the only way to get out of bed is to fall out. Probably onto your head. It's a familiar thing, a bad omen, and so certain is Clef that he is experiencing that kind of morning which precedes a rather uncomfortable day that he even vocalizes the sentiment, very quietly, as he rolls onto his stomach and peers over the edge of the bed. ]

It's one of those days.

[ The astute observer, however, might from the camera's vantage point on the nightstand notice the source of this lamentable condition and it has nothing to do with overly violent sleeping patterns or wearing too many clothes to bed. There appears, in fact, to be too much of Clef there. Or not enough of everything else. Or something, because the ratio of Clef to other things appears to have shifted from its usual not-very-much:lots state. Which is to say that those rather long and thin arms and legs and that slight yet handsome body was not there yesterday. Which is to say that you are looking at the body of someone in their early twenties as opposed to a prepubescent boy. Which is to say he may have grown maybe just a little.

This is all just speculation, of course, until he flails his way out of bed and gets up. Once standing, the issue becomes more obvious: he's at least twice his previous height. In his shock he flails a little and then immediately runs over to the mirror. And of course, the first thing he does is try to peel off that nightshirt. What do you see? I guess that depends on whether or not you're looking-- but, honestly, his back is to the camera. Which is immediately covered when said nightshirt lands on it. Have fun stopping and rewinding the video feed just to pause on that one frame where you can see anything.

Needless to say, the video times out to sounds of rustling cloth and various muttered half-sentences about the City and curses. ]

You cannot regret everything you have done, or will do, which brings you sorrow. Nor can you apologize for everything you have done which has harmed someone else. Thought of another way, an apology is just another kind of promise and forgiveness is a pledge of faith that you will actually come through on it. If your word has any value, then, you will use it seldom. In any case, you cannot be forgiven by those who have not been harmed or whose pain is not of consequence to you. The only purpose their wrath serves is as a test of convictions, and even then I think it is most often superfluous. All parties would be better served by a parting of ways, for punishment has its roots in hubris and not justice.

That said, I suppose that we're short a prison now. I must remind myself at this time that they do serve a purpose, although they are ill-suited for it. In keeping dangerous and unrepentant individuals away from those they might harm, locking them in a wine cellar is just as effective. I knew of a town once, a long time ago, that did that. Escapees were unheard of before they ran out of wine.

If anyone should come across a rather large flying fish, you are advised to leave her alone. She probably won't bite unless provoked.

Meanwhile, do we have any bandages in the apartment?

I suppose we could have brought a few more people.

[ All the device picks up is clear blue sky, rushing wind, and Clef's voice - the latter muffled by said rushing wind and the fact that he's turned away from the mic. ]

... Well, conventional wisdom dictates that when venturing forth into the unknown one bring at least a small party but I think we can handle--

It just sprouted out of the ground this morning, so of course I've never been there!

....

No need to act so surprised...

[ Clef sits up and comes into view, his usual half-annoyed expression gracing his youthful features. ... Or something like that. The camera sees him pretty much from below. He just sits there for a moment, apparently enjoying either the view or the wind through his hair before noticing the device. ]

...Oh. Hello, network. Goodbye, network.~

[ ooc: ffff this is what I call a failpost. Also a bit of a placeholder; tags will occur when I get back. ♥ Possible action for people exploring the mountain, video for everyone else.~ ]

I'm pleased that I don't have a hangover! I've never had one before, and now seems like as bad a time as any to start. I'm also glad, therefore, that I don't usually drink at all, though last night was... well, it was amusing to watch Clow and Yuuko get completely drunk, I'll admit.

Actually, I'm glad that I'm here in general. I shouldn't admit this, but it has given me some time to think things over and I know that when I finally do return home I'll be ready. ... Well, as ready as one can be, I suppose. That said, I'm not really in any hurry to go back - I think I'm doing a good job of pretending at it, but I'd honestly be just as happy to let the City decide when it's time for me to go back. I know that I probably shouldn't feel that way, but hopefully no one will be disappointed in me for it. In any case, I've come to believe that I must be here for a reason.

That, and... well, I'm not supposed to let anyone know that I'm figuring these things out, and of course I haven't directly asked, but I suspect that everything at home at least turns out well in the end. Which is all I can hope for.

I'm happy that Umi's gone, though. I'll miss her, but she really seemed like she needed a little break from the City. She seemed like she was relaxing a little after Hikaru came back, but I think some time at home will be good for her even if she does end up returning after all.

I think what I can now say about these 'curses' is that they're embarrassing. Not really humiliating, though a bit dangerous at times, but 'embarrassing' pretty much covers it. I'm thinking of the last two specifically when I say this; they weren't so bad, but I'd really rather they hadn't happened.

I'd like to apologize to Hikaru for last weekend in general. Not that I acted much differently overall, but I'm sure it was confusing.

Also, to anyone I may have marked on Tuesday - sorry.

Now, if you'll excuse my delayed responses, I need to go find some solvents. I hope everyone else is making it through the week without significant harm or complaint.

[ ooc: fjdkajfkl SORRY FOR THE ODD HOUR. But I wanted to get this up before Umi left. o/ Roommates, assume you got marked, if you'd have allowed it: "My water child", "My fire child", and "My child who requires supervision at all times." Mokona didn't get marked because he owns Clef comes across as an adult and can take care of himself. XD And obviously "my child" is not literal here. ♥ ]

[ You hear the sound of someone tooling around with a bass guitar, practicing a song. Unfortunately, the bass line isn't the best indicator of what a song actually sounds like, but that doesn't stop Clef from singing to it. ]

Sabishikute naga-sugiru fuyu datta
Namida sae kooritsuku fuyu datta
ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT Mou sugu sa

[ It goes on for a few minutes, an apparently pretty badass rock song about... someone's smile. (There is a translation under the link for anyone who's curious.) It ends, and he sighs. ]

... Well, it's less embarrassing than the other one, at least.

I intended to write something a bit sooner than this, but - well, there's really no particular excuse. I simply didn't and that's that.

Having found gainful(?) employment at the library, I can now say that I have a working knowledge of its eccentricities. When shelving books, it could not be more helpful - sections are where my sensibilities say they ought to be and, where plausible, shelves are within reach or ladders are conveniently placed. When I'm looking for a specific book for my own purposes, however, it's quite a different matter. I've already learnt to pick things out at the same time that I'm shelving, occasionally standing right there and reading whatever passages I need or having to take the book back to the desk to read later (but most likely have it unwittingly re-shelved by someone else). The end result is that books move around and change hands, but nothing actually gets done.

I suppose I can overlook that, however, and I may be exaggerating a little when I say that nothing gets done. I've learned that the only information to be found on the City itself amounts to a few maps and a train schedule (useful!), and that apparently few people check out books on interdimensional travel because I haven't seen any yet. I have a hard time believing that there aren't any or that people simply aren't interested, so perhaps no one else can find them, either. In fact, how do people find anything there? I've heard that you have to concentrate on not finding whatever it is you want to find, but that's much easier said than done.

Well, I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to practice, as I think the process of finding a way out of here will be slow going. The novelty and confusion associated with arriving in another world has worn off a bit now; there are certainly parts about being here that I like, but it's still not Cephiro. Then again, I should probably be glad I'm here and be rude by comparing it unfavorably to a country in turmoil.

[ the device comes on in the middle of being fiddled with. Here, have an EXTREME CLOSE-UP of Clef's face - he looks somewhat frustrated ]

--till trying to figure out how this thing works. Seems very cumbersome to have to press buttons in order to get it to do something.

... What? [ lowers the device, so you can see that he's in the forest and wearing... a t-shirt. His staff is visible leaning against a rock behind him, however, as he looks off-screen to talk to someone who isn't being picked up by the mic. ] Oh, that's normal?

....

I'll have to take your word for it. [ turns his attention back to the device ] That simply doesn't make sense to me; something so advanced shouldn't need to be manipulated like this.



...


... No, go back to sleep. You're better off not getting involved.

[ stops. And looks over at the still-unheard other speaker again ]

... I'd rather you didn't.

Actually.




In fact, no, stay over there. [ clutches the device a liiiiiittle protectively and reaches for his staff, looking increasingly agitated.

And then there's this sound. Like the sound of tree roots dislodging themselves from the soil, if you can imagine what that would sound like. That kind of sound. ]

HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!


[ ooc: th-thank you, random paid-account-giving anon. ;w; ♥ ]