[the days prior had been...overwhelming, to say the least, what with having so many people to talk to and so many things to try and figure out and then finding out they were only meant to be human sacrifices to begin with. it's for that reason that aerith's out, walking through the town to take some time for herself as she looks at the plaques on each of the mailboxes.
it's when she approaches the theater though that she pauses to read, noting the list of names before just letting herself in. it's daylight still, and she can only hope she isn't disturbing anyone as she ventures on toward a box of supplies.
she thought wrong. she's not alone, actually, and she pauses in her steps.]
[It's fine. She's sprawled out on her blanket, doing not much of anything. The ceiling is a fascinating thing once you spend the time to appreciate it.
Camille props herself on her elbows to squint at Aerith, curious.]
Quick with what? Are you running low on grease paint?
Not exactly, but close! I wanted to see if there was any way to reuse it. But a lot of what I found earlier was already dried out, so maybe not. [dilemma...
but that aside, she will give her a curious look.]
It's Camille, right? I'm Aerith. I don't think we introduced ourselves before.
[you know the worst part is that they both live in locations corpses were found, so it means that aerith is probably catching up with her somewhere in the middle. she's not as bouncy as usual, something a little quieter and more solemn as she approaches.]
As if any of us are going to be able to sleep well tonight. [just. ugh. bad. rancid!] It doesn't help that we don't know what tomorrow will bring either.
[and yet...]
...it's awful that this happened. And even more awful we didn't finish finding what happened to Death. But we can't go back after this, can we?
The ghosts are making food for us. It's crap but it's free of charge and labour.
[She puts the fishing rod back, pondering the other tools.]
Mind you, I don't know what I might do for a fried chicken sandwich right about now. Or beef lo mein. If it means putting in a little elbow grease I might just comply.
[Camille's attention centres on the cat.]
It's probably skittish with two of us. Two strangers too many.
[this is so sweet? kabby i won't add more to your tag pile but aerith found these flowers and immediately grabbed a pen and paper from the bulletin board to write a note to stick in the theater's mailbox for her, hoping camille will find it later.
Don't blame yourself, okay? Let's meet up again later when you're feeling better.
[Camille is in the church. Head down. No prayers today, sorry goat-god. It's simply hard to shake instinct: in the bottom of Missouri you brought your miseries to the Lord. Camille hasn't ever bought into the deal, but lightyears away from home any sliver of familiarity helps.
She lifts slightly when the door opens, lethargically tossing her hair aside to see who it is.]
[hi camille. she just wanders in and settles down next to her with a few fresh lilies in her hands.]
Something like that. [she lives here, so technically, she supposes.] ...is that something you've done at home?
[some people find comfort in faith and in believing in something, and some people use it as a last-ditch effort. or maybe she's just hiding? she's not going to kick her out, at least.]
[She turns her head so it rests against the fold of her arms, eyeing the lilies.]
I wasn't much for believing in anything. Doesn't seem like the world is a well-thought out place to begin with. Hard to believe any all-knowing being made it on purpose.
[sidles up to where camille is on this fine day. perhaps we are starting in town and aerith is coming out of the church. she will give a lil wave! hiiii.]
It was about this time last week the door to that island appeared, right? We should go see if there's another one.
[but they will not get to leave right away because a memory very rudely interrupts until 51:41. also the actual fight is probably visible in the mem itself, i leave to your imagination.]
[She hates to say it, but it's a little hard to take seriously. The cast of characters is cute and quirky, even for a tense situation. No girl is north of twenty five, not even the one in the ass-kicking suit.
But the tension rises as it wears on. She startles as the hooded man is shot, she's puzzled by the strange man up high, calling out Aerith by name. The ground gives out and it ends on a plummet, and so Camille comes out with a sharp gasp and jerk of the arms.
She looks to the side at once. The other girl is still with her, right?]
[at some point when the party winds down a little...she's still in the vineyard! sort of just glancing around at their set-up. she's still somewhat transparent on-sight but it doesn't look like she's going anywhere for a bit.
she is a little more solemn in camille's presence, but she offers a smile nevertheless.]
[at some point after anis's arrival, perhaps you are passing by the cemetery again on your way from the fountain visiting the overseers, or maybe on your way somewhere else. either way, you will find aerith here, and she appears to be...kneeling in the dirt with her eyes closed. hm.
[throws friday away. it's saturday!! this is probably after they've returned to the graveyard, and when they've both had a moment to clean up and refresh, so she's probably actually passing her on her way out of the apartments to wander elsewhere.]
So. Looks like we made it. It's kind of crazy to think this was the end result, isn't it?
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w0 monday
it's when she approaches the theater though that she pauses to read, noting the list of names before just letting herself in. it's daylight still, and she can only hope she isn't disturbing anyone as she ventures on toward a box of supplies.
she thought wrong. she's not alone, actually, and she pauses in her steps.]
Oh. Sorry, I'll be quick. [FOR WHAT.]
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Camille props herself on her elbows to squint at Aerith, curious.]
Quick with what? Are you running low on grease paint?
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but that aside, she will give her a curious look.]
It's Camille, right? I'm Aerith. I don't think we introduced ourselves before.
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w0 friday
The leeches didn't get you too badly, did they?
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I'm fine.
[at least she's blanketed and by the fire. Which she is staring into, haunted.]
I just don't get it. Are they doing it one by one?
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well. what she does is she wanders closer to have a seat next to her, clearing her throat a little. this does nothing.]
Would that even work...? We still don't know much about the ritual, but you would think it'd have to be everyone. We were supposed to have more time.
w0 saturday
...how are you holding up?
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Camille's pulled the edge of her sleeves over her fingers again, arms tucked around the middle. A high schooler's posture.]
Aaah, I don't know. Trying to ignore the crimes against our collective sanity, failing miserably. Not in a mood to turn in yet, so.
[She shrugs.]
What about you? How are you feeling?
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As if any of us are going to be able to sleep well tonight. [just. ugh. bad. rancid!] It doesn't help that we don't know what tomorrow will bring either.
[and yet...]
...it's awful that this happened. And even more awful we didn't finish finding what happened to Death. But we can't go back after this, can we?
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WEEK 1: Monday
Camille picks the fishing rod off the wall, turning it over in a two handed grip.]
Are we being told to fend for ourselves?
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Maybe. But aren't we kind of already doing that? Seems a little counterproductive.
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[She puts the fishing rod back, pondering the other tools.]
Mind you, I don't know what I might do for a fried chicken sandwich right about now. Or beef lo mein. If it means putting in a little elbow grease I might just comply.
[Camille's attention centres on the cat.]
It's probably skittish with two of us. Two strangers too many.
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WEEK 1: Thursday (delivery)
Aerith,
I hope your neck is healing up. Even if it was a curse it was out of line. I'm sorry.
- C.]
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Don't blame yourself, okay? Let's meet up again later when you're feeling better.
-A
all is forgiven.]
WEEK 1: Sunday
She lifts slightly when the door opens, lethargically tossing her hair aside to see who it is.]
Come to pay your respects?
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Something like that. [she lives here, so technically, she supposes.] ...is that something you've done at home?
[some people find comfort in faith and in believing in something, and some people use it as a last-ditch effort. or maybe she's just hiding? she's not going to kick her out, at least.]
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[She turns her head so it rests against the fold of her arms, eyeing the lilies.]
I wasn't much for believing in anything. Doesn't seem like the world is a well-thought out place to begin with. Hard to believe any all-knowing being made it on purpose.
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w2 monday
It was about this time last week the door to that island appeared, right? We should go see if there's another one.
[but they will not get to leave right away because a memory very rudely interrupts until 51:41. also the actual fight is probably visible in the mem itself, i leave to your imagination.]
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But the tension rises as it wears on. She startles as the hooded man is shot, she's puzzled by the strange man up high, calling out Aerith by name. The ground gives out and it ends on a plummet, and so Camille comes out with a sharp gasp and jerk of the arms.
She looks to the side at once. The other girl is still with her, right?]
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1/2
2/2
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w6 wednesday
she is a little more solemn in camille's presence, but she offers a smile nevertheless.]
...how are you, Camille?
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[Camille smiles, but the shift in mood is mutual. Hard to meet Aerith's eyes, even as a vivid mirage.]
Though I hear you can see that much yourselves. It's the rest of us that are running around blind. How are you?
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w7 friday
continue?]
screams in the unstoppable march of time
Hey?
[Camille pauses. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything, actually. Now that she's closer it looks like Aerith is praying.]
Oh — sorry. [Hands up, all apologies.] I'll leave you to it.
what a mood.
w7 saturday
So. Looks like we made it. It's kind of crazy to think this was the end result, isn't it?
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Might need a stronger word than "crazy."
[That was.
Jesus. Camille pinches the bridge of her nose.]
Somehow, it's both more and less frightening than anything we've faced yet. How do you make a god that stupid?
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