Justin Pendleton (
othersdie) wrote in
poly_chromatic2012-07-15 07:46 pm
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Entry tags:
[action/text]
[action]
[Justin, looking older and more worn than usual, is in the garden. If his rumpled appearance or the cigarettes don't indicate a cursed state, his complete inaction should. He's seldom idle, usually, and the police force has been keeping him occupied lately.
But right now, he's sitting under a tree. Smoking. Looking either bored or blank--it's difficult to tell. He's not going anywhere soon.]
[text]
This again. And again, and again, and again. The details change but the plot repeats itself. Not just one weekend a month or even here alone. Listen to the clock. Each tick is just like the one preceding it, like the one following it. Tedious second after tedious second. Identical seconds, adding up to minutes and hours and days and years that blur together into a single unremarkable life until, finally, we have the privilege of dying.
I wonder why we bother living through the tedium.
Why do we consider life so valuable when it ultimately comes to nothing?
[ooc: Cursed with The Years That Never Were. This is a Justin I've been working on for a while, so there's an explanation for the curious. Responses will come from the curse journal, mostly.]
[Justin, looking older and more worn than usual, is in the garden. If his rumpled appearance or the cigarettes don't indicate a cursed state, his complete inaction should. He's seldom idle, usually, and the police force has been keeping him occupied lately.
But right now, he's sitting under a tree. Smoking. Looking either bored or blank--it's difficult to tell. He's not going anywhere soon.]
[text]
This again. And again, and again, and again. The details change but the plot repeats itself. Not just one weekend a month or even here alone. Listen to the clock. Each tick is just like the one preceding it, like the one following it. Tedious second after tedious second. Identical seconds, adding up to minutes and hours and days and years that blur together into a single unremarkable life until, finally, we have the privilege of dying.
I wonder why we bother living through the tedium.
Why do we consider life so valuable when it ultimately comes to nothing?
[ooc: Cursed with The Years That Never Were. This is a Justin I've been working on for a while, so there's an explanation for the curious. Responses will come from the curse journal, mostly.]
video;
video;
Who are you?
video;
I'm Ken Ichijouji.
video;
video;
But what about you? You look different, too.
video;
[He takes a long draw on his cigarette.]
What do you mean?
video;
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Raiden.
video;
video;
[Hasn't he been a chain-smoking, self-destructive bum for the last eight months?]
video;
... Darker, I guess?
video;
Darker. Than what?
video;
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video;
» audio
It's strange that she finds parts where she now agrees with him and that scares her.]
» audio
Angela? Are you there?
» audio
[And it's all she says right now because otherwise she's at a loss for words.]
» audio
» audio
» audio
It takes Justin a few moments to formulate a response.]
Nothing's changed.
» audio
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» audio -- in that icon, he kind of reminds me of long haired chase
» audio -- dear god, you're right! relatives?
» audio -- perhaps!
» audio -- perhaps!
» audio
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