|
|
Post by River Tam on May 23, 2011 7:55:31 GMT -5
RIVER TAM
I’ve seen all of creation, but to it I’m incidental
But there’s more to this automaton than they will ever know
I’m more than just alloys and circuits, I have soul
And I’ve got dreams just like everybody else
I could conquer the world if I could conquer myself
River looks down, ashamed. A red tint creeps onto her cheeks. She feels as if she’d been lying, somehow.
“Oui et non. Je ne suis pas psychiques, per se, mais je sais tout du passé.” Try as she might, the girl can never find a perfect translation for per se, even with knowing the language inside and out, upside-down, back to front. Hell, she knows French better than some French people.
She looks up, half-smiling, and says, her voice just dripping with sarcasm, “Combinez cela avec les langues, et il me fait l'historien parfait.” Too bad she doesn’t care enough about history.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on May 24, 2011 19:39:31 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
"Que doit faire mal."
It's the first things he thinks of to say, and he's embarrassed. He puts his fingers to his temples, searching for a better way to explain himself than 'Well, I think it would, anyway.' "C'est," he begins, then stops. Is this really the right way to phrase it? He can't think of anything better, so he goes on. "C'est tout, vous avez tout ce qui s'est passé dans votre tête - dans un sens, tout ce qui peut arriver ou sera jamais, aussi. L'histoire se répète." He pauses. "Ou suis-je plus de l'estimation de vos pouvoirs?"
|
|
|
|
Post by River Tam on May 24, 2011 20:12:49 GMT -5
RIVER TAM
I’ve seen all of creation, but to it I’m incidental
But there’s more to this automaton than they will ever know
I’m more than just alloys and circuits, I have soul
And I’ve got dreams just like everybody else
I could conquer the world if I could conquer myself
River shrugs. “C'est à peu près correct. Je le vois tout en images. Ils flottent au-dessus le monde réel. Il ne fait pas mal, vraiment. Il est désorientant. Il me donne le tournis.”
She pushes off of her rock-chair-thing, feeling suddenly very restless, and begins to pace around the chamber, forming a rough oval, always ten feet or more from the water.
“Je ne sais pas l'avenir, que par le passé. Je ne peux pas voir l'intérieur de la tête des gens - c'est-à-dire, je ne vois pas ce qu'ils pensent, seulement ce qui se passe. C'est comme si je regardais un film, mais il a toutes les images fixes. Il n'y a pas de son, que ce soit.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on May 25, 2011 16:45:31 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
Pierre listens, nodding. He can see that, kind of- another world layered on top of every person, every building, every tree, filled of paintings of moments and minutes a months and years of life. It's dazzling to image, but at the same time dark, frightening, and, as she put it, dizzying. "Et vous voyez que, tout le temps?" To always see the world like that would be like going mad, to Pierre- to function properly, she must be able to turn it off sometimes.
He hears the bells of the student chapel ringing, and though he despises the whole chapel on campus thing - sure it's comforting to the Catholic kids, it makes everyone else feel like poop - the bells are an excellent timekeeper. "Il devient tard. Nous devrions rentrer." He doesn't want to leave, not yet, but yet at the same time sleeping here would be too awkward to think about.
|
|
|
|
Post by River Tam on May 25, 2011 17:20:07 GMT -5
RIVER TAM
I’ve seen all of creation, but to it I’m incidental
But there’s more to this automaton than they will ever know
I’m more than just alloys and circuits, I have soul
And I’ve got dreams just like everybody else
I could conquer the world if I could conquer myself
“La plupart du temps. Parfois, c'est pire que.” As she says the last words, a picture of the cave being formed flashes through her head, making her stop in her tracks, one hand flying to her head, the other pressing against the wall.
She nods, without moving. “Ouais. Nous devrions rentrer à l'école.” she says weakly, pushing back to a full standing position. She flips both of the flashlights off, momentarily dazzled by the sudden darkness of the chamber. She hadn’t realized how late it had become.
“Suivez-moi.” She slips out of the cave, hoping Pierre will follow.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on May 25, 2011 19:47:27 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
Most of the time? Well, could be worse, like right then when the girl swayed. He stood up to catch her, but she caught herself, and he was left standing there, trying to keep his head from bumping the ceiling. He listens with half an ear as she agrees with him, flicking off the flashlights and heading into the woods. It takes him a minute to slide through the crack in the cave wall again, but then he's caught up with her, and they are walking through the evening light.
"Avez-vous inconfortable de me laisser voir que le journal?" he asks after a bit of walking, thinking about the afternoon. "Je peux me faire oublier, si vous voulez."
|
|
|
|
Post by River Tam on May 25, 2011 19:55:10 GMT -5
RIVER TAM
I’ve seen all of creation, but to it I’m incidental
But there’s more to this automaton than they will ever know
I’m more than just alloys and circuits, I have soul
And I’ve got dreams just like everybody else
I could conquer the world if I could conquer myself
The question catches her a bit off guard. Someone offering to forget? That’s slightly impossible. The more you try to forget, the more you remember. The memory lapse happens naturally. And no one actually forgets anything-- it’s all there, stored away in the brain’s many nooks and crannies-- but sometimes it’s harder to call up.
"Non, non. C'est bien. Tu ne dois pas à oublier. D'ailleurs," she says with a half-smile, “si quelqu'un d'autre le découvre, je sais qui blâmer.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on May 27, 2011 16:36:33 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
He chuckles, the glow of the sunset softening his face. "C'est vrai, c'est vrai," he says, ducking his head under a branch. "Ce qui est dit dans l'oreille d'un homme est souvent entendu une centaine de miles de là- n'est-ce pas un dicton?" He's heard it said somewhere before, and it makes sense in the situation.
They climb on through the woods, the crickets chirping soothingly in the fading light. He falls silent, content to put on foot in front of the other and take in the beautiful landscape. They walk.
|
|
|
|
Post by River Tam on May 27, 2011 16:46:49 GMT -5
RIVER TAM
I’ve seen all of creation, but to it I’m incidental
But there’s more to this automaton than they will ever know
I’m more than just alloys and circuits, I have soul
And I’ve got dreams just like everybody else
I could conquer the world if I could conquer myself
River smiles, but does not say a word, content to listen to the night sounds-- crickets conversing, trees talking, wind whispering, brooks babbling.
She continues to walk forward, placing each foot as though a wrong step will bring the earth tumbling down, footsteps as quiet as though walking through a cemetery.
After another twenty or so minutes of this, she can see Alexandria rising out of the darkness, the large building calling, like home after a long time away.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on May 28, 2011 11:08:08 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
They walked in silence most of the way- they had said most of what had needed to be said, anyway, in that cave. He wondered briefly if he would ever be allowed back.
The roof and steeples of Alexandria rose higher and higher on the horizon, the manor's white walls shining in the vanishing light. All to soon they arrive at the front veranda where they had begun, some of the things he had left still draped over the railing. The sun had set now, and the voices from the dining hall were growing more and more alluring.
"Je suppose que c'est là que on divergeons," he sighs, brushing some of his hair out of his face. Today was nice, he realized- despite what had been said, it had been very nice talking with River. "Serai-je pouvoir parler avec toi encore, à l'avenir?"
|
|
|
|
Post by River Tam on May 28, 2011 11:20:40 GMT -5
RIVER TAM
I’ve seen all of creation, but to it I’m incidental
But there’s more to this automaton than they will ever know
I’m more than just alloys and circuits, I have soul
And I’ve got dreams just like everybody else
I could conquer the world if I could conquer myself
“Oui. C'est là que nous nous séparions.” she says, mounting the few steps onto the veranda. Her feet make brown imprints on the pale wood, and she stops to wipe the mud off with a towel before continuing on inside. She looks back at the older boy for a moment, wavy brown hair half covering her face, her head angled down, but her eyes looking up, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
His question catches her a bit off guard, but she doesn’t show it. “Je serais honoré.” she says over her shoulder, one hand against the doorframe, and then disappears inside.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on May 28, 2011 11:56:46 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
Se said yes. He had a friend. He smiled to himself. It was reassuring to know that people would still sit down and talk with him, whether or not they were like him. "Jusqu'à ce que nous rencontrons à nouveau, puis," he says before she goes, but she has already turned inside. "Bonne nuit, mon ami," he says softly as she disappears into the halls.
He smiles again to himself and then walks inside himself, looking forward to this school year.
|
|
