Chuck Shurley | God (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paterelohim) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-08-10 07:37 pm
paterelohim) wrote in sirenspull2012-08-10 07:37 pm
video;
[Chuck looks, in a word, busted. His face is tense and stressed, gelled hair messy from the wind. When he backs away from the NV it's obvious that he's posting from the top of a cliff, and seemingly hasn't noticed that it's almost time for evening sirens. He looks down solemnly, unsure how to make his announcement.]
As of Wednesday, Anna Milton is dead. [He killed her. His hands twist his shirt nervously.] If you were in Sector Four that day and saw a weird flash of bright white light- that was her.
[The smallest tense sigh.]
She's gone, and if there's any mercy left here, she won't come back the way she was. Fred hasn't come back, either, and they're far from the only ones.
[He takes a deep breath and then, a little unusually for him, looks up and right into the camera, silhouetted by the last rays of sunset.]
And there's something I think I need to say. A lot of people wonder what the point is to being here- between this much loss, so many comings and goings, and the constant knowledge that going home means forgetting the Port, you wonder if there's even a point to being here- to trying. Why does it matter, you think, if nothing here changes what happens at home.
[Chuck is making a speech here, but it has an almost pleading note. It's as genuine as it is personal.]
But if you've been here for more than a week, if you've met a single other person here and told them your name, then you've done something. If you've made a friend here or an enemy or looked someone in the eye and told them a truth you didn't think you knew, then you've done something. Maybe the epiphany you had or the feelings you expressed don't last when you go home, but the person you connected with- they'll remember. Even if you vanish tomorrow, you left a mark behind.
I lost people this week who are really important to me- one person from home who needed a second chance, and an amazing woman from a world I'll never get to see. If she comes back she might not know me- I'll never see that version of her again. That doesn't invalidate the year she spent here. It happened, and it matters, partly because she made a difference to everyone she met. She wasn't afraid to really live here.
[He falls silent for a moment, looking out over the cliff-side at the setting sun. It's getting hard to see him now in the twilight.]
Everyone you meet here is in the same boat you are. If you keep losing people here or you learn things about your future you wish you didn't know... Whether you're getting a second chance or if you're someone else's second chance- whatever the case may be, you owe it to the people around you and to yourself to try and do something with it.
Because even if you get sent home and you forget, the one thing you will never be... is forgotten.
As of Wednesday, Anna Milton is dead. [He killed her. His hands twist his shirt nervously.] If you were in Sector Four that day and saw a weird flash of bright white light- that was her.
[The smallest tense sigh.]
She's gone, and if there's any mercy left here, she won't come back the way she was. Fred hasn't come back, either, and they're far from the only ones.
[He takes a deep breath and then, a little unusually for him, looks up and right into the camera, silhouetted by the last rays of sunset.]
And there's something I think I need to say. A lot of people wonder what the point is to being here- between this much loss, so many comings and goings, and the constant knowledge that going home means forgetting the Port, you wonder if there's even a point to being here- to trying. Why does it matter, you think, if nothing here changes what happens at home.
[Chuck is making a speech here, but it has an almost pleading note. It's as genuine as it is personal.]
But if you've been here for more than a week, if you've met a single other person here and told them your name, then you've done something. If you've made a friend here or an enemy or looked someone in the eye and told them a truth you didn't think you knew, then you've done something. Maybe the epiphany you had or the feelings you expressed don't last when you go home, but the person you connected with- they'll remember. Even if you vanish tomorrow, you left a mark behind.
I lost people this week who are really important to me- one person from home who needed a second chance, and an amazing woman from a world I'll never get to see. If she comes back she might not know me- I'll never see that version of her again. That doesn't invalidate the year she spent here. It happened, and it matters, partly because she made a difference to everyone she met. She wasn't afraid to really live here.
[He falls silent for a moment, looking out over the cliff-side at the setting sun. It's getting hard to see him now in the twilight.]
Everyone you meet here is in the same boat you are. If you keep losing people here or you learn things about your future you wish you didn't know... Whether you're getting a second chance or if you're someone else's second chance- whatever the case may be, you owe it to the people around you and to yourself to try and do something with it.
Because even if you get sent home and you forget, the one thing you will never be... is forgotten.
[Video]
[Video]
It could've been anyone. She was kind of... crazy.
[Video]
I was her room mate. She wasn't crazy.
[She faces the feed, displaying the half of her face that is swollen and bruised, as well as the cast and the wrist brace. But she'll defend Anna.]
[Video]
I knew her too, better than you ever could, and yeah- at that point? She was. She was dangerous. It wasn't- her fault, but she was.
[Video]
[The words are growled.]
None of you, not her brothers, not her supposed friends, gave a damn enough to step up to help. But you're calling her dangerous? You want to know what's dangerous? Abandoning a friend and then announcing their death and calling them crazy. Thanks, but I'd rather be forgotten.
[Click.]
[Video]
For someone who was supposedly so close to her, you certainly seem to be lacking a great deal of information on Anna. Because she was insane. And approaching her with anything but a very large stick would result in some snapped limbs and shredded souls.
But go ahead, kick and scream at the individual who would know better than you that messing with an insane angel is a quick death sentence when you're on their proverbial shit list. That seems to be the running trend with insignificant mortals who don't know their place around here.
[And then -- ]
As for Chuck, enjoy the chardonnay.
[And he shuts the feed.]
[Not here.]
So, she says nothing and goes back to packing.]
[Video]
Don't presume we didn't speak with her because we didn't care. She wouldn't have wanted to see us.
You have no idea what happened to her in our world. I have known Anna since the time of my Creation, and I know that what she was when she returned here was not who she truly was. Anna was gone when she left, before; what came back in her place was not her.
'Crazy' is a harsh word, but not inaccurate, as much as we all might wish it were.
[voice]
That's untrue. I offered Anna my protection and gave it when she faced the Shadow of our Father. She stayed with me for a short amount of time after. [Not that she stayed long but still.]
Before her last return home I visited with her. We spoke of family matters. [Which he's not talking about now.] I also was with her after her return and she wasn't what she once was anymore. My protection was once again offered if she so needed it. And as my sister sank so far into her insanity as to kill someone, I saw her then. I tried to reach out to her but she was beyond me. [So he tried to kill her. Again.]