Voice; OTA

[pyrodulia]

[There's what is not quite a millennial pause, between the grumpearl being activated and Agnes's voice. Maybe a sigh, but a very soft one.]

Does anyone else feel like this world is changing them? Beyond the physical, I mean. Beyond the instincts of one's species settling in. That...being removed from circumstances before is affecting who they can be, now. Opening paths that didn't exist, before.

Just...wondering, that's all.

[There's a wistfulness that carries, in tone of voice or of transmission.]

Comments

[notyourbloodymessiah]

I have a poor definition of normal to begin with, but it's strange to have the freedom to be normal. I think. [ she's still hardly a normal teenager. that life was denied to her before she could ever fathom the choice at all. but... it's better than rapture. ] I don't know. Having friends is nice. Real friends.

[pyrodulia]

Yeah. I think I know what you mean about real friends.

[Instead of people who were an awkward combination of worshipers and keepers. Jude Perry venerated her, but also hated who she'd become after being bound. And Jack Barnabas...well, that had ended poorly.]

You're one of mine, in case that needed to be stated.

[notyourbloodymessiah]

I know! We should get some lunch together, sometime.

[ because that's a normal thing normal girls do. ]

I don't know, it's... nice to be appreciated for me. Not what I offer. Not what I represent. [ the little sisters were her friends in the same way any sibling is your friend. and the various adults in her life took on so many different parental roles that calling them friends doesn't sit right. her last friend was that boy, when she was young... he's probably long gone. ]

[pyrodulia]

Lunch?

...that'd be nice. I've got Canopy duties tomorrow, but maybe the day after?

[She's still doing messenger work, between the watchtowers and the offices, and helping Ribombee prepare for spring burns.]

[notyourbloodymessiah]

That works for me.

[ she leans her cheek on her flipper. ] What's changed about you?

[pyrodulia]

I think...

[Agnes hesitates, nervous about putting these words out into the air, in public.]

I think I have hope. About the future. And my place in it.

[notyourbloodymessiah]

Me too.

[ in a weird way, she still got what she wanted. she's free and she's on the surface, and she isn't burdened by a body more powerful than she can cope with. ]

It's nice. To find meaning.

[pyrodulia]

...meaning? What do you mean by that, then?

[notyourbloodymessiah]

I'd never been in control of my own life; not before coming here. [ she pauses, unsure how to put it. ] There's meaning to living my life on my own terms. Even if the circumstances haven't been ideal.

[pyrodulia]

I think I see what you mean. Something I've experienced too, before here. In the end, it's good, and that's what matters, hm?

[notyourbloodymessiah]

Exactly! You have your patrols and I have... whatever I'm doing. [ she's doing a bit of everything really. ]

[pyrodulia]

That's almost ominously vague.

[notyourbloodymessiah]

Can't fault a girl for not having worked it out yet, right?

[pyrodulia]

No, I suppose we can't. But do let me know when you do.

[notyourbloodymessiah]

Hehe, you can count on it.

[sharpjustice]

[Mayaka turns to her Grumpearl, intending to take her mind off working on her manuscript for a bit. She's feeling particularly frustrated with her art today -- whatever she's picturing in her mind is translating poorly onto the paper. It's just not good enough, and her lines look almost amateurish. The worst part is that she can't tell if it's due to her lack of experience drawing with her claws, or if she's actually getting worse at it.]

No. I don't want that to happen. [She tells Agnes, refusing to entertain the idea of changing, of being dragged further from her goals than she already is.]

[pyrodulia]

Good, then fight it.

[At least the little sharp thing knows what she wants. Maybe force of will can allow her to stay closer to what she intends to be.]

[sharpjustice]

I will. [Mayaka asserts, feeling a little better now that she's channeled her frustration somewhere.]

Even if I wasn't turned into a Pokemon, I'd be fighting the same thing. [This feeling of inadequacy will continue to cling to her whether she has claws or not.]

[telewarped]

... In a good way or a bad way?

[pyrodulia]

For me? In a good way, but I'll entertain stories in any direction.

[telewarped]

Then yeah... I think I get it.

[Her tone, though casual, carries hints of uncertainty and a wistfulness of her own.]

You first. Sounds to me like you've got a story you wanna share with the class.

[dripdrive]

Not really. But instincts settling in fucking sucks and has been affecting me as a person.

[pyrodulia]

Want to talk about it? What have your instincts been driving you toward?

[She sounds amused; she is amused.]

audio;

[wolfcut]

Maybe. [ For better? Worse? There's some mixed signals. ] Can't exactly navigate the world the same anymore like this.