overclocking: (storyteller)
actual hobbit trash chrono ([personal profile] overclocking) wrote in [community profile] exsiliumlogs2013-11-10 10:15 am

( open )

Date & Time: Several days after the necromorph outbreak
Location: A VR room
Characters: Chrono + Rosette + open!
Summary: Lil bit of coping in-between zombie apocalypses and civil wars, nbd
Warnings: None! KEVIN AND BREAK
Notes: Feel free to tag around also! ♥


[ Chrono doesn't bother to close the door when he finally decides to try one of these rooms for himself. Something about the last few days (weeks) (months) has left him unwilling to stay in enclosed spaces too long, with no obvious path of exist. Too much like a lab or an undead-lined hallway.

But these concerns slowly melt away as he sets about instructing the AI, and the room gives way to a place that isn't a room at all.

Mountains rise up in the distance, framing a blue, clear sky, and a faint breeze rustles the treetops of a thick Michigan forest. Birdcalls ride that wind, and the air smells cleaner, fresher, than any moon base could reasonably boast. Where the blanket of trees ends, a large, glassy lake gleams in the sunlight. He takes care with this part—instructs the AI to make the water a temperature a bit too low to be entirely comfortable for swimming, knowing full well that this won't actually be a deterrent. But it wouldn't be right, otherwise.

He takes his time strolling from one familiar landmark to the next, having the computer make adjustments as necessary. He doesn't miss details, either; for all the times that Rosette brought him to this very place, his eyes had missed nothing. They were wide and all-absorbing, like someone who had been born anew and was discovering the world for the first time.

(Likely because, in all honesty, he had been.)

He stops once he circles back around to the open door—a black silhouette hanging oddly in the landscape, and the only giveaway that none of this is real. It's here that he surveys the scene as a whole, the sum of all its little memory-parts. ]


Perfect.

[ Well. There's still a thing or two missing. ]

... Almost.
smallest: All the way from... somewhere else." Quote by Lucille (Default)

[personal profile] smallest 2013-11-14 10:33 am (UTC)(link)
[He continued to sing this peaceful song with an undertone of sadness. It could not be helped, he was still rather sad that he could not see his friends. When he finished, he looked to Rosette. Did she fall asleep, or...?]
soul_sister: (On top of the world)

[personal profile] soul_sister 2013-11-14 02:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[A smile dawns across her face as the last chords drift off and after opening her eyes, her hands lift and break the silence with applause.]

That was absolutely amazing.
smallest: All the way from... somewhere else." Quote by Lucille (Default)

[personal profile] smallest 2013-11-17 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
[He made a short and happy chirp. Obviously, he was glad to hear that. He held the guitar a little closer before placing it across his lap.]
soul_sister: (Earnest)

[personal profile] soul_sister 2013-11-17 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
[She rolls over onto her side, propping up her cheek under her elbow.]

How long did it take you to learn that?
smallest: All the way from... somewhere else." Quote by Lucille ("Pretty laid-back for a monster.")

[personal profile] smallest 2013-11-17 09:24 am (UTC)(link)
[His red eyes looked up. He thought back to the first time he played the guitar, which was not that long ago.

He held up two fingers. It took him about two minutes.]
soul_sister: (On top of the world)

[personal profile] soul_sister 2013-11-17 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[She nods. Two years sounds about right.]

What kind of songs do you know?
soul_sister: (Celebrate)

[personal profile] soul_sister 2013-11-17 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
I want an adventure one!
smallest: Quote by Lucille ("Come and dance with us!")

[personal profile] smallest 2013-11-19 10:34 am (UTC)(link)
[Such enthusiasm for music! Francœur was happy to continue playing. He struck a few chords as he searched for a melody. A few notes later, he began to play a song. It was steady at first and then it built up with a lively energy behind it. Among playing the guitar, he slapped the board to provide a rhythm.

Yet he did not sing. He looked at Rosette with a smile and he tipped his head back as a sign of an invitation. He wanted her to sing the words.]