[[half interlude/half open post + entropy manipulation: a fatalistic warning]]

[forgethertoo]

FOR EVERYONE

Aornis is mildly irritated. For all everyone in this place talks about fresh starts and second chances, she doles out some measly nightmares and eradicates a few non-essential memories and all of a sudden, everyone is acting as though they've discovered a grand villainous conspiracy. It's irritating because she should feel flattered that she's caused this much trouble with so little action. After all, she can sense it. Every mention, every ping.

The problem is, the current situation doesn't feel evil enough. Would her brother Acheron be proud of her for what she's done so far? No. It's not quite as bad as her brother Styx's "evil deeds" but it all feels rather pathetic. She's well aware that she's the villain of this place, in terms of the narrative. That particular narrative intent is so strong, it's nearly hitting her over the head with it. Although she can't tell who the hero is supposed to be, it is perhaps time to fully step into that role. She is a Hades, after all.

At the moment, she's debating her options. She could just wipe everyone's memory and start fresh. That would be the easiest way to handle this situation. It's a distinct possibility. There's a slight issue with that plan... but she's taking care of it. Aornis is currently rolling over these issues with a Moscow mule somewhere public, if anybody would like to speak with her...


FOR SOMEONE IN PARTICULAR

It's a small coincidence. Very small in the grand scheme of things. In a hallway off to the side of the main area of the mansion, a sheet of paper sits on the floor, undiscovered and unnoticed up until now. Perhaps it was dropped by Susan and Lancelot when they were moving the boxes of papers inside. It's an application for a library card; very nondescript in nature. Name (William Jones), DOB (January 13th), Sex (M), City and State (Boston, MA). The rest is blank as if whoever started filling it out had been interrupted.

Comments

[forgethertoo]

Aornis looks at it without much change in expression. "Did you learn how to do that here?"

[timebethine]

"I did," says Laertes. "In my world, such things cannot be done."

[forgethertoo]

"Hamlet isn't a fantasy, I suppose-- though there is a ghost," Aornis says, dryly. "We don't have magic in my world either."

[timebethine]

Laertes's expression shifts to surprise. "No? Then how do you do your work? I can work this small art, but I cannot step into stories--let alone enact my will upon them."

[forgethertoo]

"How can there be a spelling virus that has the capability to kill a person by changing their head to a mug of mead? How are characters able to abandon their novels and interact with the outside world? I suppose it's just a facet of my world." She shrugs lightly. "Besides, enacting my will -- as you put it -- in a novel is a matter of persuasion, paperwork, and sometimes brute force. It's just a job. No magic at all and very little skill involved."

[timebethine]

"That's horrifying," says Laertes. The spelling in his era is not particularly well-standardized; the idea that inevitable misspellings might change their referents is almost inconceivable. "What other facets hath your world? How does it ... work?"

[forgethertoo]

"I suppose the entire framework of the world is different. Everything orbits around literature. It's a secondary dimension of its own. Novels are more like living plays, where they can shift and change. It's certainly horrifying -- but doesn't it also make literature more exciting?"

[timebethine]

"It does," Laertes says, letting a tentative smile break across his face. "We had no such things as novels, in my time and place--they've been a new delight for me, here. But I confess, they would be more familiar if they were more like plays. Even the plays of later eras dictate so much of what the actors do and express. It's unlike anything I've seen before. So your work ... is more that of a--" he gropes for the term Nina had used when he was working through her survey; he remembers guiltily that he's still not done with it yet "--director?"

[forgethertoo]

"I suppose," Aornis muses. "A combination of director and stage manager. Keep the action moving and coherent to the eyes of the reader -- but also ensure that behind the scenes, the actors are still happy."

[timebethine]

"And you? Are you happy?"

[forgethertoo]

Aornis tilts her head and looks at him, expression unreadable. "Not particularly."

[timebethine]

"I can't imagine we've given you the warmest of welcomes," says Laertes, letting his voice go rueful. "So many of us are happy here, and fear to return to a place where we were not."

[forgethertoo]

"But not Tress," Aornis says, raising an eyebrow. "I believe Claudius tasked me with helping her, if I could."

[timebethine]

"Not Tress," Laertes agrees. "And there are others here who would return home if they could. I imagine they greeted th--greeted you with greater warmth than the rest of us. You were their greatest hope of returning."

[forgethertoo]

Aornis turns a sharp gaze on him. "That's awfully utilitarian. It doesn't always have to revolve around what I can do to hurt or harm people," she tells him, tone also slightly sharper than what it had been. "That's the way rumors spread and grow -- hypothetically speaking, of course. There are people here who have done neither and simply shared a friendly drink or two with me."

[timebethine]

"I'm sorry," says Laertes at once. "That was unkind of me. I learned the utility of other people at my father's knee, and such lessons are slow to fade, try though I might to erase them. But you aren't some unfeeling force, as inhuman as the spirits that govern us here; you're only another person. Dos--do you have a family waiting for you?"

[forgethertoo]

"I have four brothers," Aornis says, and there's a hint of genuine fondness in her voice. "Unfortunately, one is no longer with us. He was murdered about a year before I arrived here."

[timebethine]

"Murdered! I'm sorry for your loss," says Laertes immediately. "He sounds as though he was dear to your heart."

[forgethertoo]

"He was. Acheron was my role model in many ways." She pauses for a small beat. "I'm sorry for your loss as well."

[timebethine]

Didst know there would be loss, he tells himself sternly. Didst know that thy story was a tragedy. But there's a white-hot horror in him at hearing it spoken--in knowing what none have been willing to say, that his life is not the only one forfeit. He wants to hear the name spoken aloud. He wants never to know.

He wants to be sick.

"It must eat thee up, to be here and unable to answer it," he says thickly. "Even after a year--it must be a howling void in thee."

[forgethertoo]

Aornis clocks his expression and the tone of his voice. There's a slight frown on her face. "I saw him briefly when we had visitors," she says, attempting to sound casual but actually failing to in this moment, mingling sadness -- and yes, rage -- flickering in for a split second. Acheron understood her. He had always been there for her. He had comforted her during grade school, when she came home crying because all of her friends had forgotten her. After he died, she mourned for an entire week, and then she knew what needed to be done. She had almost succeeded.

[timebethine]

"He came to thee from the land of death?" Hope flickers in his gaze.

[forgethertoo]

"And then was pulled back to it, I'd assume. Cruel, don't you think?" Aornis asks. For a split second - only noticeable if you were looking for it hello Claudius - Aornis cocks her head just the slightest fraction.

[timebethine]

"It is cruel," says Laertes. He hadn't thought of it in that light, before--how Lucien's friends had been brought to life again for a visit, but not to stay. He'd pinned all his hopes on their return ... but why did they have to return to Death's country at all? Why not let them stay? If whatever spirits govern this place have the power to snatch those they love from Death's icy hands, then to return them there again is cruelty. "Perhaps he'll return to thee again. Other visitors have--Magnus's Alex has come back again."

[forgethertoo]

"Perhaps. I think he'd enjoy it here," Aornis says, with a small smile. Her words are plainly spoken and it is just an ordinary quirk of the lips -- nothing more to it -- but there's a sense of extra depth of meaning to it.