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playing the game -- rick austin ([info]takingsides) wrote in [info]bellumlogs,
@ 2010-01-15 20:52:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:cheshire cat, plot: memories

Who: Rick
What: Memory Post!
Where: The lobby.
When: Immediately after, even during, the landlord's post.
Warnings: TBA

Rick has had a long, hard day. Some asshole killed his ex-wife over the dog, and he just spent fifty work hours proving it, arresting him, and then trying not to feel guilty when Animal Control comes to take the stupid poodle. He shakes the rain off of his collar and stomps the wet off his feet before squelching onto the marble of the Bellum Letale lobby. Home sweet home.



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[info]stringthetrail
2010-01-16 05:27 am UTC (link)
You're fifteen. You're sitting on a stool in the choir room, plucking at your old guitar as you begin playing the delightful sounds of Stevie Ray Vaughn's Pride and Joy. It's a difficult song, but you've been practicing for weeks and have got most of the notes down pat. And hey, you're not too bad a singer either.

The problem, you noticed, is that your rhythm is routinely thrown off at school by the constant giggling and high pitched noises your girl classmates make, which seems to be happening more often than you'd like. You've resorted to practicing at home even though the acoustics aren't nearly as good, which is also irritating.

You tried complaining to your only friend who is sitting on the floor near you. She tries not to laugh, but whatever the joke was, it's clearly lost on you. She tries mentioning something to the effect of girls having a thing for guys and guitars, but at the dumbfounded look on your face, she just laughs harder. "What?" you ask. "N-n-nothing," she manages between snickers. "You're smart, but you're dumb sometimes." Eyebrows raised, you return to playing. Now just HOW did the bridge go again?

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[info]takingsides
2010-01-17 06:31 am UTC (link)
Rick sat down slowly on the last stair. That was interesting. A hallucination, he was sure. Full surround-sound installation. Rick, who was utterly himself, found the alien perspective such that that he was also absolutely certain he was not going crazy.

Interesting.

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[info]bookshelved
2010-01-16 05:40 am UTC (link)
The memory is very recent.

The man in the living room likes you; you're not naive, you can tell that much. He's well read, and he's charming, and he's much older than you. Valmont, you call him, and you think you have him pinned, but you haven't known him long enough to be certain.

You glance over at him as he puts away your books, and you think it could be nice, being with someone who seems so easy and up-front. You haven't learned about his hang-ups yet, so you can still pretend he is like he is right now: Charming, simple, interested, interesting.

You look back at the book in your own hand, Pygmalion, and you open it and turn the pages. Women upset everything. When you let them into your life, you find that the woman is driving at one thing and you're driving at another, you read, Henry's voice distinct in your head.

You wonder what you're driving at, and you put the book back on the shelf.

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[info]takingsides
2010-01-17 06:34 am UTC (link)
Rick is still sitting on the stair. He is patient about working things through with his mind. This was is an utter conundrum to him. He knows no one named Valmont (a job for google, perhaps), nor has he ever read anything called Pygmalion. He isn't sure he agrees with the bit about women, though. You just have to make sure they don't drive.

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[info]snaked
2010-01-16 04:58 pm UTC (link)
This memory is different. Second person. It's hard to see what's happening directly. It's as if it can only be viewed from the corner of your eye. It's somewhere industrial, dirty. Though there's no indication that the lights are damaged but the visual flickers. There's a strange rattle, like a television on it's last legs. Any sound that should be there is eerily missing.

It's Li. An adult, but difficult to make out an exact age. Her arms and legs are wrapped around someone. At first, it looks like a desperate, hungry embrace. But they're wearing clothes. Then it just looks hungry. Uneven stripes of blood run down from her head, her arms, everywhere. Not splattered. It's her own. The man struggles. He can't break her grip. He tries to ram her against one of the walls. She's still there. He tries again. Nothing.

The visual goes completely black. The inconsistent dead television rattle sound stops.

There's a scream, but it's secondary to the softer snap of several bones breaking at once. It's a sick, wet sound. The visual comes back in red. Li's closed lips are pressed against the crown of the dying man's head. They lay crumpled on a dirty brick floor. He convulses. She won't let go. It's impossible to make out her face, but it could not possibly match the awesome rage which fills the memory.

Her mouth opens. Then it opens wider. It starts to open wider than any mouth should.

The visual goes completely red, almost black, and there's no longer any sound. It's difficult to say how much time has passed, three minutes, thirty minutes, more?

Eventually it fades. The memory is over.

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[info]takingsides
2010-01-17 06:43 am UTC (link)
This memory affects Rick more than the others. It doesn't hit him where he has no armor, but it does hit, and it is even more of a quandary than the others. He goes over it--Rick has an excellent memory of his own, and with such information, in so many senses, he has much to process. After he has gone over it many, many times, he concludes that this hallucination is either the product of some drug dream, or he has more problems on his hands than the Giancoma and their errant daughter.

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