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networkinthenight2019-07-22 01:35 am
hext) wrote in networkinthenight2019-07-22 01:35 am
Entry tags:
@witch — voice
My name is Wanda Maximoff. I have met several of you.
I have seen some of you die. Some of you have seen me die, as well.
We are, I think, intimate — if not consensually.
[ she attaches her dimly lit picture, taken near the church. a slow, measured breath, then she continues in her low, but confident voice, angled just so by her Eastern European accent: ]
We are here to survive, and we all know there is strength in numbers.
Trust is not given freely, it is earned, yes — but neither should we make sweeping generalizations about each other's competencies, young or old, when we each come from such unique... and uniquely horrifying... worlds.
[ the softest tapping sound accumulates in the background; her fingers, rarely ever idle, are dancing along the edges of her tablet as she runs through the paces of her message. ]
Winters spoke strongly of resets. I think about it each night. What drives them, if there is any reason or logic behind them. If they are not merely whims of the lighthouse keeper, then let it not be this:
Let it not be us, dividing into factions and turning on each other out of spite and fear, vengeance and guilt, carried past our deaths into this purgatory. Young, or old, or without classification. [ here's lookin' at you, five. ] We will only die again faster this way, festering in mistrust.
[ in this moment, she wishes perhaps more ardently than ever before that steve were here — he knows the power of a call to arms, how to be the tree that does not move, the liberating thrill of speech — despite how glad she is that he is not a victim with her. her captain, her beating heart, her family. ]
Each project will always have its own team.
But we shall try to be one town, yes?
I think we can.
I have seen some of you die. Some of you have seen me die, as well.
We are, I think, intimate — if not consensually.
[ she attaches her dimly lit picture, taken near the church. a slow, measured breath, then she continues in her low, but confident voice, angled just so by her Eastern European accent: ]
We are here to survive, and we all know there is strength in numbers.
Trust is not given freely, it is earned, yes — but neither should we make sweeping generalizations about each other's competencies, young or old, when we each come from such unique... and uniquely horrifying... worlds.
[ the softest tapping sound accumulates in the background; her fingers, rarely ever idle, are dancing along the edges of her tablet as she runs through the paces of her message. ]
Winters spoke strongly of resets. I think about it each night. What drives them, if there is any reason or logic behind them. If they are not merely whims of the lighthouse keeper, then let it not be this:
Let it not be us, dividing into factions and turning on each other out of spite and fear, vengeance and guilt, carried past our deaths into this purgatory. Young, or old, or without classification. [ here's lookin' at you, five. ] We will only die again faster this way, festering in mistrust.
[ in this moment, she wishes perhaps more ardently than ever before that steve were here — he knows the power of a call to arms, how to be the tree that does not move, the liberating thrill of speech — despite how glad she is that he is not a victim with her. her captain, her beating heart, her family. ]
Each project will always have its own team.
But we shall try to be one town, yes?
I think we can.
no subject
[ Wanda's intuition is sharp, but then... she's had to deal with a wide range of personalities.
Riku snorts softly at the mention of Vanitas. Even if it's his reflex to say he isn't from his world, he realizes how wrong that is. I'm the darkness kept in the prison of Sora's heart, he had said.
It's not that he dislikes Vanitas.
It's... complicated in ways he can't articulate. The scent of his darkness and the face he wears-- ]
Yeah? How did that go?