make a new plan, Stan. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lazyinlove) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-11-25 02:29 pm
lazyinlove) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-11-25 02:29 pm
C'est la mort. (Open)
Date & Time:Tonight, around 7.
Location:The viewing windows.
Characters:Anyone who knew Peace or who might stop to pay respects at a memorial even if they didn't know her.
Summary:A memorial gathering for an Exsile who ceased to exist with the most recent world change.
Warnings:Tears, cursing, bitterness? Not sure yet. People can label threads as they come up. Everyone is free to make their own and jump around. Prose and action are both fine.
It's a waste of emergency torches, but there are a few set up around anyway, lit that soft unearthly blue of emergency lighting. The flowers are paper, clumsily folded from discharge sheets, some from the prison, some from the clinic. There are no photos. All of the ones she was in before are empty spaces, or pictures of Stanley or others who'd been holding her at the time. The music is strings, playing softly from a haphazardly tossed tablet. There are no chairs. Instead, every pillow from 144 is on the ground as seating.
Stanley isn't sitting on one, though. He's standing at the window, staring down at the planet so far below. Today, he's combed his hair. It's still in his eyes because it's too long, but he's made the effort to tame it at any rate.
He's not sure how to start things off, but if someone shows up he'll greet them. That's what you do, right? So that's what he does.
"Thanks for coming."
Location:The viewing windows.
Characters:Anyone who knew Peace or who might stop to pay respects at a memorial even if they didn't know her.
Summary:A memorial gathering for an Exsile who ceased to exist with the most recent world change.
Warnings:Tears, cursing, bitterness? Not sure yet. People can label threads as they come up. Everyone is free to make their own and jump around. Prose and action are both fine.
It's a waste of emergency torches, but there are a few set up around anyway, lit that soft unearthly blue of emergency lighting. The flowers are paper, clumsily folded from discharge sheets, some from the prison, some from the clinic. There are no photos. All of the ones she was in before are empty spaces, or pictures of Stanley or others who'd been holding her at the time. The music is strings, playing softly from a haphazardly tossed tablet. There are no chairs. Instead, every pillow from 144 is on the ground as seating.
Stanley isn't sitting on one, though. He's standing at the window, staring down at the planet so far below. Today, he's combed his hair. It's still in his eyes because it's too long, but he's made the effort to tame it at any rate.
He's not sure how to start things off, but if someone shows up he'll greet them. That's what you do, right? So that's what he does.
"Thanks for coming."
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[ To protect, to fight, to save lives when they don't fully understand moral obligations. ]
Have you lied to others about this?
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Only the people that asked.
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[ A big or small lie, you're always supposed to answer for it. That's what her mother taught her. ]
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I don't remember all the people I told that to.
[She'd told Kaneis - she remembered that, because he was one of the people glad to see not everyone here was a kid. But the others... She hadn't really thought about it. She's been lying about her age since the Port, and though she hadn't like it, it was necessary. It hadn't been a lot, but she just... didn't remember who had asked.]
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[ Her voice is quiet enough so the conversation only carries between the two of them. ]
If you want people to treat you with respect, you have to do the same for them.
[ And the truth is good way of that. ]
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It had never been about disrespecting anyone. It was just... getting by. It was necessary in Siren's Port when she needed to stop attending school.
Thinking on it now though, she wasn't sure she'd ever actually needed to do that here.
She doesn't bother to type up a reply. Instead, she simply nods. She could do that.]
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Then you can preserve your integrity.
[ It almost sounds rehearsed, like she's heard it somewhere before. She has. ]
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Is integrity important to you?
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Always. [ A beat. ] My mother was the one who taught me when you do wrong, you have to answer for it.
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Nill's known a lot of liars - and it was very rare that they actually lied to do someone harm, although people like that existed as well. Lying was a necessity, frequently well-intended, even if it ended horribly. It was never wrong, just... painful.]
Is a lie always doing wrong?
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[ She's not a bastion of perfection herself; she's had to toss the little white lies here and there to ensure her identity was protected, but more importantly, that ones who could get hurt were safe as well. ]
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I never knew that.
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[ Like what happened with her father. ]
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I'm going to go check on Stanley.
[Which is, you know, a not very subtle way of finishing up the conversation. She offers Kate a very, very slight smile, before walking over to wherever Stan is atm.]
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