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[hating]

respond here to see morgana think you're a demon who possessed her communication device

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5/18

[fragmento]

[ somehow, she manages to take his breath away each and every time.

this place is so terribly foreign. so unfamiliar. he wades through a maze of grey in a panic, surrounded by a void he can't begin to understand. it's merely an illusion, he thinks at first—

until he catches a glimpse of red, the wind knocking out of him.

he treks on over in his jumpsuit. there's a flash of surprise before it melts into something akin to...relief? ]

You're here, I — I feared that we would be separated but...you're here.

[ wow. eloquent. ]

These...tacky suits be damned, are you in one piece, Morgana?

[hating]

[ ah. him. that asshole. morgana had assumed that, upon waking up and seeing that jacopo's hand was not in her's, ...that perhaps she wouldnt see him again. she feels like she's seen a ghost. (she has, she realizes.) ]

You should ask yourself that. Your first thought is to ask me that, and comment on the clothing.

[ yeah shes fine, just got that skeleton arm back. its fine. ]

[fragmento]

[ a "tch" escapes him, but the faint smile on his face has yet to fade. ]

And your first thought was to bicker with me, so this is most definitely the real Morgana. I'm at ease now.

[ skeleton arm or not, maybe she'll let him...hold that bony hand later...anyways! ]

I mistook this place for an illusion, but it doesn't appear to be.

This...this is space. And I distinctly recall space travel being an absurdly distant prospect in the 1800s...what the hell happened?

[hating]

I don't have the answers you seek. I met a boy from 2452 and he also lacked answers. It seems no one knows what happened, which certainly puts us in a strange position.

[ keep that shaky hand to yourself, jacopo. ]

Time is a fickle thing, is it not? More of a concept to our souls than something concrete...

[fragmento]

[ jacopo cants his head. yet another sigh escapes his lips. ]

Space travel...this is it, huh?

This place...or realm, I mean, is dreadfully empty.

[ a smile, light and gentle, plays along his lips. ]

I suppose we'll have to make something out of nothing here, in that case.

[hating]

What sort of madness are you cooking up in that empty cavern of your's you call a skull now?

[ morgana has no ears ]

[fragmento]

Eh?

[ he raises a brow. ]

It's nothing too ambitious. We'll be in need of a temporary home is all, don't you think?

[hating]

[ there's a short pause. ]

You won't let go of that, will you? Temporary or not, I... can't say at this point.

[ morgana doesn't make promises - she has no idea if this is a stepping stone to the next life, or if this is where they'll stay. it's unsettling, but she keeps true to that part of herself.

even so, that's not a rejection. ]

6/2, AUDIO

[fragmento]

Morgana? You there?

[hating]

[ it's possessed! the communicator is possessed!!!! god. she hates this thing ]

define there
i am where i am

[ ... which is the observatory deck. old witch gets mad at 2 moons round deux ]

it speaks in your voice

[ the second text comes ten minutes after the first. wonder why...? ]

[fragmento]

You don't have to type. You can use your voice as you would with a telegram.

...

Very well, where are you then?

[hating]

i would rather not

the room where you can see two moons

[fragmento]

Hearing your voice...would be nice, though...

The observation deck, you mean.

Do you think you could find your way to my room? I discovered something that belongs to you here. More specifically—

Your robes.

[hating]

[ there's a long, long, loooong pause. morgana probably asks someone else in a hallway how to turn on the voice function, because sure enough: ]

Your desperation is showing once again.

[ which isn't, you know, a no. but it's not a yes, either. ]

[fragmento]

How the hell am I being desperate!?

[ GOD. ]

Do you know where my room is?

[hating]

Inviting me to your room, you blasphemer.

[ :) ]

sometime during the great floaty month of june

[oculusriffs]

[username turntechGodhead may wind up regretting this. but he might be a little bit worried, okay? people are drowning in gross floating pool water, or just drowning in plain old stale air thanks to the unexplained bouts of paralysis, and he doesn't want to see her become anymore weird or dead than she already is.]

[Morgana isn't exactly a close friend, he doesn't think, but she is entertaining. that's good enough for him.]

hey

[hating]

[ morgana's been spared, for the most part. aside from witnessing it (which in itself is a whole can of complicated worms for her), she's been able to avoid the whole... thing, more or less. morgana also does not realize that it's freezing, though. ]

my my
hello there my dear
and to what do i owe your company today?

[oculusriffs]

[okay, she replied. he can relax for now.]

just wondering if floating makes it easier for you to haunt the hallways

[hating]

a curious question. allow me to answer with one of my own. did getting your sword back make it easier for your fragile male ego to feel protected?

[oculusriffs]

[R-E-G-R-E-T; here is what it means to me:]

wow
thats not the weirdest way someones hit on me
but ok
im actually doing pretty great thanks

[hating]

slightly more fragile than usual, i see.


i did not ask how you are doing, though the update is appreciated. now, please tell me, my dear, what is it that's on your mind? surely the lack of gravity hasn't caused you to suddenly gain an interest in my spirithood. something else is on your mind, yes?

[oculusriffs]

ugh
do you do this in every conversation youre a part of
like try to needle some ulterior motive a person doesnt have out of them
think youve got the rubiks cube of daves inner psyche solved right
wait didnt you say youre basically shit at casual conversation
ok dont worry heres what you should type next

you are indeed a funny guy, my dear
the lack of gravity truly paints an amusing portrait of my victorian era haunt aesthetic
i shall commission the family da vinci to paint it
and i shall display it proudly over the mantel
i have been known to spin a few humorous yarns myself
for instance, what is the situation with airplane food?
wait, i don't know what an airplane is

[Morgana ... probably knows bluster when she reads it.]

6/10, AUDIO

[fragmento]

[ it's a recording, intentionally left for her to listen to in the morning. ]

Rise and shine, Morgana.

An idea...struck me in the middle of the night. Don't ask why or how god..damn it, this is—listen...I've decided that every morning, I'll wake you with a truth. That truth will be something favorable about yourself.

Anyhow, I suppose I...should...start. Gh. [ for the record, he's evidently embarrassed throughout this all. the pauses and hesitation certainly expose him, alongside the occasional breath. but he endeavors nonetheless. ]

You're thoughtful. Believe it or not, you understand others well — there's a creative edge to you as a result. Perhaps you should take to writing one day. I'd most definitely read your work.

...Oh, and if this...truly and honestly bothers you, tell me. If not then it'll become a ritual. Er.

Goodbye.

[hating]

[ how dare he, she thinks at first. this man leaves her a message to start her morning with, and she remembers the warmth of the sun on her skin. balmy summer air and cool green grass. a breeze that glides across with such a sweet gentleness, it's painful. those days are gone; this is not the slave youth who had carried her to a place where she could be... "safe." and this is not the lord who cut into her flesh for banquets. in many ways, listening to this, she feels it is unkind of her to think of those days in the makeshift graveyard, from when her nails had mud and death caked beneath them from ardent prayer and hard work. it is certainly unkind to herself; this sweetness he had given her was a double edged sword, and it would forever be lodged in her side.

of that she was sure.

and yet, she thinks of a gentle, golden sea, with a clear blue sky overhead. that warmth and this warmth co-exist, in some say.

morgana is not a kind person, in her opinion. if she were, would she had done what she had? would a kind, thoughtful girl have done all that, and let it be for nothing? this is the man who shackled her emotionally and physically in more than one life, who destroyed that which she loved more than once. (first himself, then her rose garden, then once again: himself.)

and yet... his voice comes from the smartwatch like a warm rush of water.

she wants to respond in text. thinks it is smarter to. her voice might waver through a recording. ]

Good morning to you, as well. Hearing your voice first thing in the morning reminded me of the unpleasant sensation of a stomach illness.

[ they're just butterflies, you know. ]

I have no interest in writing, but I suppose if you desire it, I can. However, I...

[ ... ]

Would need an editor.

[ so, together: they can make up for that last letter xxxxxxxx wrote jacopo bearzatti, perhaps. ]