Beckett of the Mnemosyne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bookofnope) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2016-10-06 08:28 pm
bookofnope) wrote in snowblindrpg2016-10-06 08:28 pm
[network] @Mnemosyne; video; the light we cannot see [open] Night 165
I can't sleep.
[The tablet is on the floor, lighting its own patch of paleness on the ceiling above. Beckett is lying next to it, prone on his back - that's what the angle of his arm, raised half-heartedly into the frame, suggests. He pulls more clearly into view for a moment, rising to a sitting position, to squint at the camera. His glasses are off, and his eyes glow a faint red in an ashen face.]
For all I know, I imagined it - the girl, the eyes. I'm certain the red pen was real, though, and the choice that came with it.
[He falls back again. Too tired to sit up. The tablet records to show nothing but light and shadow as he speaks.]
It may have been just me. Doubtful, but possible... but it was not just me who saw things. Perhaps we all did. I'd like to know what. Piece of some whole, or just another attack on what's left of our collective sanity... either way. For the sake of the record, if not any kind of answer.
[His relationship with answers isn't getting any less complicated. His voice drops low, dreamlike as he speaks on.] I saw a girl wearing a cloak. She was drawing the eyes, all around me... around me... until I was surrounded. She climbed on my back and drew her eyes on mine, and I knew there was no leaving. There has never been, not for me. Perhaps we are all...
[Too much. He stops abruptly, and rises again, grabbing for the tablet.]
It's all in my notes.
[The recording ends. In its place he sends his notes file out again.]
[The tablet is on the floor, lighting its own patch of paleness on the ceiling above. Beckett is lying next to it, prone on his back - that's what the angle of his arm, raised half-heartedly into the frame, suggests. He pulls more clearly into view for a moment, rising to a sitting position, to squint at the camera. His glasses are off, and his eyes glow a faint red in an ashen face.]
For all I know, I imagined it - the girl, the eyes. I'm certain the red pen was real, though, and the choice that came with it.
[He falls back again. Too tired to sit up. The tablet records to show nothing but light and shadow as he speaks.]
It may have been just me. Doubtful, but possible... but it was not just me who saw things. Perhaps we all did. I'd like to know what. Piece of some whole, or just another attack on what's left of our collective sanity... either way. For the sake of the record, if not any kind of answer.
[His relationship with answers isn't getting any less complicated. His voice drops low, dreamlike as he speaks on.] I saw a girl wearing a cloak. She was drawing the eyes, all around me... around me... until I was surrounded. She climbed on my back and drew her eyes on mine, and I knew there was no leaving. There has never been, not for me. Perhaps we are all...
[Too much. He stops abruptly, and rises again, grabbing for the tablet.]
It's all in my notes.
[The recording ends. In its place he sends his notes file out again.]
no subject
[ Well, he did ask for honesty. Sometimes honesty comes in the form of an infuriatingly clueless noise.
It's pretty precious, though. ]
I'm not saying that it isn't a pretty scary thought, because it is. And I don't think I'd be especially good at... vampiring.
[ Meaning that she's pretty sure she'd be worse at being a vampire than Beckett is at being a distressingly sniffly leaky human. Egads. ]
But I wouldn't call it a sacrifice. I mean - being able to keep you company would be more than worth the potential teething problems, I think. Hehe - teething problems - um.
no subject
There's hardly a manual for it. Or a quiz at the end.
[Not anymore. There isn't anything anymore.
Would it be worth that? He wants to ask her. Not only the cold stillness of death, the dark - how much sun has Angel seen in her short life, and what empty heritage does he offer her in return? There had been so much once. History, lore, riddles and questions. Now it's all going to die with him, unless he hands it on.
She's so young. Too young to be his absolution. If he makes her his childe, he'll make her free.]
When - if - when we get out of here, [he settles on that word at last, and sticks to it,] you should wait a while first. Live a little. Be young. Chase a dream or a Vault or two. Date poor Kunsel maybe. Take five years, ten... then ask me again, if you still want it.
no subject
[ Poke poke. That's what you're doing, Beckett. You're shipping things. For shame. ]
The rest of that sounds okay, though. Something to look forward to while I finish growing my hair out. Does Vampire hair grow? You're going to have to teach me so many things.
[ And he'll have to stick with her for those five-to-ten years, too. Oh no. HORRORS. ]