i don't want to survive, i want to live

[mermaidcursed]

Who: Yes
What: Movie Night + Slumber Party 
When: 9/11, Saturday Evening
Where: Dorm Common Room 
Warnings: A ridiculous amount of Fluff, probably

( it starts out small. a need for comfort food, and a need for something heartfelt but silly and fun, something genuine and kind. ... and, well, she did find a weird. bootleg vhs set of her favorite movie series, hamster space wars. but the dorm is only barely furnished- and it's not like they can just go out and buy a tv or anything. honestly she completely doubts there's even anything beyond the woods. but she remembers a teacher playing the thing and other stuff in the first month of all of this. 

it's so long ago...

but there's a television and a vhs player in the school. and nene... nene's tired and sad and is currently out of fucks to give, so at some point in the day, after everyone else has left, nene has returned to the school and, uh. "borrowed" both things. it's fine. they just have to get it back in by sunday evening. don't worry about it. like, it's definitely heavy but she's a tough cookie who tills soil and everything, and also sara and noah both witnessed everything and are accomplices by default, so they had to help carry things too. 

(they were completely happy to help on both accounts, she asked very nicely.) 

so the "borrowed" television is set up across from one of the larger couches, and the vhs on top of it. she had cookies in the oven, donuts and hot chocolate made and popcorn popped. the common room paintings are covered with sheets of cloth. all that was left was something cozy- but at this point, nene's made so many little cushions and blankets and even cozy pjs that that's super easy. all that was left was letting anyone who wanted to come know too. so at some point in the halls, nene walks down calling out: )

Cartoons in the common room! Bring blankets and stuff! 

( and, so everyone knows what their characters are getting into: hamster space wars is a movie series about different factions of hamsters that have been trying for cross planetary peace for ages now, with a villainous faction having sabotaged the final negotiations so they can control the war from the shadows to make the most money and also get the most seeds (Very Decadent). the first movie follows the main hamster and his little group trying to escape the villains after having witnessed the sabotage, and are trying to avoid assassination and end the war for good. the sequels follow allied factions, with hamster galactic wars being the Thrilling Conclusion. 

it's heartfelt. it's silly. it's very cute. nene loves it. )

Comments

[adsum]

[ There's a little flinch of surprise when she touches their hand— not enough for them to pull away, but enough to show they were so focused they didn't even see her hand approach. One to six, raised or not... ]

64 doesn't seem like it'll be enough...

[ But maybe that's just as well, because then it doesn't seem like so much to learn, eyes sliding closed and fingers tracing slow inch by inch across the page. It feels like it would take hours to read a single sentence, unless they can get that mental map down perfectly.

... ]

How did you make this? I was thinking cardstock and the blunt side of a needle.

[decrypter]

Oh, with these.

[pulling her slate and stylus back into her lap, she takes the paper and flips it over again, tucking it into place.]

This keeps the paper where I want it to be, and this makes the dots, like so.

[at the bottom of the page, where there's still blank space, she fills in a few cells - right to left, quick and precise. taking it back out, there's a new line of dots when she turns it, tucked away from the chart.

]

And that's how I write my name.

[adsum]

[ Ohh, they've never seen something like this before— thinks about where they could get one but it's not something you could go to the stationary aisle to buy... It's like looking at a foreign language, seeing overall shapes but not meaning. If they imagine turning the pattern of dots around, they can see a mountain, a forested one like back home, and something that might pass for a cabin, with a chimney there and that dot could be a door.

... ]

Do mine next! What does mine look like? It's spelled K-E-I—- [ waits for her to type ] —G-O!

[decrypter]

[Keigo. she'll remember that, and not abuse it. it was a precious thing placed in her hand, delicate as a bird and needing to be held as carefully - but also as warm, and she wanted to hold it to her heart to keep it secure.

obligingly, she turns the paper and swiftly punches out the corresponding dots, then letting them feel the raised bumps of their own name.

]

This is yours.

[adsum]

[ Ooh, theirs feels a lot easier to remember— lots of symmetry, and only two to four dots to keep track of, and they can almost spell that other name if they can remember how M feels.

... ]

I was just thinking, your name feels like home. Mine feels like... a pencil? An arrow?

[ the pointy bit at the end... Either way, their name feels like dad. ]

[decrypter]

An arrow, huh...

[she brushes her fingers over their name, and then hers.]

I can get that one well enough, but what do you mean, mine feels like home?

[adsum]

Well, it's upside down, like a reflection, but...

[ Slow, they reach over for her hand, a little poke at the back of her hand to let her know theirs is there, before moving it over to her name, so her fingers can trace out what they're feeling. ]

See? This is like a mountain, and this could be a house... sort of like where I grew up.

[ It's maybe a stretch. But you know how you tend to notice things that are on your mind. ]

[decrypter]

Hmm...I can feel it, now that you mention it.

[she laughs a little, but not at them - at the idea of assigning names to shapes, places. it'd be easier to remember like that for sure.]

Did you grow up on a mountain? I've only read about that kind of life.

[one with hard work, but closer to nature...it might be nice to visit mountains one day.]

[adsum]

Not way up high in one, but I grew up surrounded by lots of trees, sort of in a valley between mountains. There were lots of cliffs everywhere, but I was no good at climbing...

[ They pass their fingers over Helena's name, and decides they shouldn't think about home anymore. ]

Where'd you grow up? A city?

[decrypter]

[...strange. very strange. perhaps she's thinking too much of it.]

No - the country. Not in mountains, but in fields, farmland. There were trees, but nothing like a forest should be...

[still, as even as she makes her words, there's a pang that twists her heart. it's been a long time since she's thought about her home, where she had promised to come back, that she'd be fine.]

The first time I went to a city, I was struck by how loud everything and everyone was.

[adsum]

[ Oh... that sounds nice, living somewhere with lots of green but it's also wide and flat and you can clearly see when you're about to walk off a cliff or coming face to face with a bear. ]

Right? All the trains, and busses, and... [ ...whatever cities have. lots and lots of buildings, but those don't make a sound ]

Must've been scary. Did you go by yourself?

[decrypter]

No, I had my tutor with me. She was almost more a companion than a teacher, but I could never forget how much she taught me...

[that woman's a complicated subject, Helena knows, and closes her eyes. on the outside, it looks like she simply got tired of having her eyes open, but she knows it will allow her to control her expression more.]

No one would have let me go alone, anyway. They considered it too dangerous. That I would somehow come to harm.

[adsum]

[ Why a tutor and not family...

But npc-kun perks up a little at the mention of a teacher, though stays quiet through Helena not being allowed to go alone. At least she had a choice, at least it came from a place of caring.

... ]

How old were you?

[decrypter]

Nine years old. So that was ten years ago.

[a whole decade, not counting the time she's spent in a loop, since her sense of time was so skewed there it was hard to count it as real.]

That was the earliest they thought I could make my way around enough.

[adsum]

[ Why a tutor and not family!! For as young as npc-kun is, they still recognize that nine is very young to go out into the big city with all its busses and trains with a teacher, which in their mind is only there one day out of the week. ]

Did you want to go? [ They said the city sounds scary, but they think that of a lot of things. In contrast, Helena looks like somebody who has her life together. ]

Was it fun?

[decrypter]

Oh, I wanted to do everything, and learn about everything I possibly could. I still do - there's no way I can grow up and write my own stories if my life is only reading other people's. I have to actually go and live some of it, so I'm not just repeating someone else's words.

[how funny, when she thinks that her life still has a ways to go before it could even try to be together.]

As for it being fun...yes and no. It was so much at once that I gave myself a headache.

[adsum]

[ oh

oh?

Oh!!

They straighten up, eyes getting progressively wider as she talks because it really did take them by surprise. She sounds like what little they've heard about Amami's life— travelling the world, doing so much, seeing so much— but Helena has something Amami doesn't. ]

You're a writer! Have you written a lot? Can I read something? I love books!

[decrypter]

[and they get to see something no one in Yogen has before, which is Helena getting flustered - her eyes widen, and even sightlessly they can tell she would be looking at them with a mix of surprise and nerves.]

Um...nothing I've written is good enough for people to read...just some poems and a few sketches. They're not very good, really, nothing I'd want to waste your time with.

[adsum]

[ There's a little puff of the cheeks, because they're too excited to be put off so easily. This is what people say when they don't think they can draw, while npc-kun insists that anybody can draw and be an artist. It's the same with writing— if people can speak, they can put words down on paper. Doesn't mean they'd be particularly interesting, the same way Amami's and Sara's drawings are still crap, but, ]

Being a writer means you have something you want to share. There's no good or bad... kids talk on and on all the time, and they're interesting even if they stutter or trip over their words. People who write for fun do it because they love it... so the thoughts and feelings are already there, and that's the part that matters the most.

[decrypter]

That may be so, but...

[she's quiet for half a second, judging that the background noise of the room would block her from anyone who isn't Keigo.]

I need to make sure the words I want to say are really mine. I've experienced so little that I would always doubt that what I was saying was honestly what I felt or me parroting someone else's opinion. Can it really be said to be my own thoughts, my own feelings, when I can't say I've had any kind of adventure, not lived anywhere else in my life, not done anything at all?

[technically, that's not true. but she won't weigh them down with the burdens she carries - with the death that clings to her spirit like hardened pitch.]

There's no sense in giving you or anyone else words that in the end aren't mine. They need to have my feelings, my mind, my heart in them, or they'd just be ink on a page. Not anything worth paying attention to.

[adsum]

[ ...

They're quiet for a moment, because everything Helena says... "I couldn't go anywhere, I couldn't do anything... I didn't have anyone. If your life is ordinary, what does that make mine?" An ugly moment of self pity that they let slip in front of Amami, but it's the same thoughts: they have nothing to their name, nothing worth paying attention to.

And maybe that's why they're so forceful about it, every action and every word screaming "Please pay attention to me!!" because it's the only way they know to turn heads.

Still...

Still. ]

These are your words, aren't they? They're ones I can feel... ones I can see myself in. Ones that make me feel less alone. That's what the best of writers do.

[decrypter]

[slowly, her hand moves to cover theirs, to find it and gently squeeze. there's a moment where she doesn't want to speak, afraid of what she'll say, what will slip out, a dropped sheet of paper from a sheaf. her eyes are closed, and Helena remembers to breathe again.

I don't want you to be alone. I don't want to be alone either.

all her best words are locked away in her diary, recounting things that no one should have to know. and for a second, the idea of Keigo reading those, seeing their self in, had left her uneasy.]

You're very kind, my friend.

[inhale. and smile, soft, just for them.]

If I was to write...if I actually tried to write one or two things, would you be willing to read them, and give me your honest feedback?

[adsum]

I'm not saying it to be kind.

[ Like they're saying it just to make her feel better— yes, they want her to feel better, but that doesn't mean they don't believe in what they say.

... ]

But yeah! If it sucks, I'll tell you it sucks! But also why, and what could be better, and if it's good I'll tell you too! I'm a very good critic!

[decrypter]

I'll hold you to that. Be ruthlessly honest - any less, and I won't share these with you.

[someone she could trust with her words, her real words, and not have them be changed except by her own hand.]

[adsum]

Deal!

[ Grinning, they lean back, shifting slightly to properly face her where they sit. ]

Alright. I'm ready. I don't know how to read Braille, so you're going to have to read them to me. Let's hear it.