You get to feel so guilty, got so much for so little...

[tooghoulforschool]

Who: Fun Ghoul and OPEN!
Where: Just outside of the town hall
When: Day 80 (backdated)
What: Ghoul is officially the last Killjoy at Kore. Dedication ceremony of the Mailbox for the Dead. This is an open log. Make your own threads to tag each other, or reply to Ghoul. Anything goes.
Warnings: None yet.

That's it. They're gone and they're not coming back. Ghoul's at peace with this now. He knows they're gone, but he's gotta stay. As long as he can, he's gotta stay. And he knows that while he's here, they'll still be alive. Through him. Just like anyone else they've lost since ending up here. Those people are gone, but not forgotten. Not entirely.

The cemetery still feels oddly alien to him. It's just not what they're used to. But Finch helped him. He and finch, they went into town armed with paint and colour and they found a mailbox. Right in front of the town hall. They spent a long time decorating it, just the two of them. Gotta make it bright. Gotta be able to see it from far away.

The mailbox for the dead.

"It's a part of my culture." He says to anyone that asks. "A piece of where I come from. It's a way to remember the ones that are gone without dwellin' on it too much." And he'll smile wistfully, push his hair out of his face, and just stand there, staring at it.

"Anyone can use it." He says solemnly, slipping four envelopes inside. "It's for everyone."

If pressed, he'll answer further. If you want to be alone with your thoughts, he'll leave you to them. Either way, the mailbox is ready. 

Comments

[rigging]

When Ghoul looks back, Jesse's got his eyes on the mailbox again. Not as open as you think - it makes Jesse snort, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"It ain't any secret, home," Jesse says lazily, but he is avoiding Ghoul's gaze. "You just never ask."

[tooghoulforschool]

"Just ask?" Now he does smile, "That would be rude, motherfucker. Who the fuck just asks about that shit? Info's gotta be voluntary, actuary, straight from your capillaries. Who just asks? Normal people?"

He'd never be that intrusive. Hell, it took him weeks to ask Anna anything but what she was called and if she'd give him a kiss on Not-Christmas! Asking? Nah. Not his style. And do you know how fucking difficult it is not to ask when you're a curious fuck like Fun Ghoul?

"You should just tell. Hey, say it to the mailbox, not me. Go on. I'll plug my ears, yeah?" Look, he's doing it! Covering up his ears and grinning all stupid. Come on, Jesse, look. Don't get all down. He can't handle anymore down.

[rigging]

Jesse just rolls his eyes at that, because maybe that's how it works, but don't say it's a secret. There's no reason to go on and on about your past and how shitty or great it was if the person you're talking to doesn't want to hear it - and Jesse knows, a lot of the time, people don't want to hear it. He wrinkles his nose, though, and reaches to punch Ghoul in the shoulder lightly.

"Shaddup," Jesse tells him, but he's got half a grin on his face, reluctantly. "S'boring. Just regular old planet Earth. Nothing to tell, really - I mean, I dunno, maybe it's fascinating t'other people but really, s'just... home. For me."

He shoves his hands back in his pockets. "Used t'travel a lot. Cause of the band, you know? So I miss that, too."

[tooghoulforschool]

"Not boring." Ghoul shakes his head, no way, it's NOT boring. "Regular stuff for you ain't regular for me, remember? Once upon a time, maybe, but not no more. Now it's about as excitin' as you hearin' about back home." Okay, well maybe you can't exactly compare the two, but basically he's trying to say he's interested. Very interested.

"Where to? Said you were from California, too, so what else did you see? Other cities? Other countries?" That prospect does have him excited. Something beyond the zones. Untouched by the bombs and radiation. He wants to picture it. That and what California would be like back before it all happened. No Battery City. No BLI. Just sprawling metropolises with individuality, small towns, green... lots of water. People not forced to be happy.

"Don't have to talk if it's gonna bum you the fuck out, but I'd like t'hear. Really would, Finch. Trade you stories." Not something he offers just anyone.

[rigging]

It might bum him the fuck out, but - he can't resist the offer of trading stories. He wants to talk about it, so he will, with a soft sigh and a motion for the both of them to sit. Just on the ground, whatever, it's fine.

"From California, yeah. Los Angeles. Was a teenager in Kansas, mostly, though, 'cause that's where my boarding school was." It was a nice place, the little school, and he's got fond enough memories of it. Shrug. "L.A. is busy as fuck. Always something going on there, s'always loud and full of honking cars and people who spit at each other, but there's a shitton of great artists and actors and all these people. Everybody is interesting, there, they all got their stories."

Jesse traces his hand over one of the small tattoos on his arm - a grizzly bear on it's hind legs - as he speaks. "Moved to New York when I was done with California. Even busier. Louder, angrier. Less pot and more cocaine." He sniffs in amusement. "Countries... I dunno, I been to the UK, I been to Japan. All over - we had a world tour the year I signed on, so we went everywhere."

[tooghoulforschool]

He sits right next to him, folding his legs up and looking eager like it's time for Dr. Seuss in fucking kindergarten or some shit. All these names, the places, they all sound like magical, far-off lands. He doesn't remember much before the City. Hell, he doesn't remember much before getting off the meds. It all seems so damn exotic.

"Lemme hear more about Japan. Always wanted..." To see it. To go there. No idea if it's even still standing, they don't tell them anything. The idea of an entire country being gone... the whole world... who the fuck knows what's past all that radiation and desolation? No one's been that far. Too dangerous. "You n' Galen? You got to see it all?" Together.

He's trying so hard to stay positive, but there are whispers. Whispers in a voice that was his but wasn't at the same time. Not fair. Why should they-- no, shut the fuck up. He shakes it off. That's bullshit. That's NOT him. Not what he thinks.

"Be nice to see a city all lit up with colour and music. Miss that. A lot. I dunno if I could handle it now, though. Tall towers everywhere, might get me feelin' too cramped. Flat desert, you can see everythin' miles before it's comin' to getcha. Outrun it. Shoot it. Lots of corners in a city." He remembers that much. Places to hide but also places to be trapped.

[rigging]

Jesse gives him a little smile.

"Yeah. New York might not be a great idea for you, yeah? S'real fucking crowded, you can lose somebody in there real fast. Japan's the same, only worse. But there's all these lights and crazy advertisements on the streets, and all sorts of people. The energy there, y'know, it's all proper and hurried and frantic, but it got us pumped."

He rubs at the back of his head with a grin, now. "The boys and I, the roadie boys? We went out drinking one night, got fucked up on sake. It was like an - an acid trip, all I remember's the fuckin' bright lights and colors and getting shouted at in Japanese."

[tooghoulforschool]

It's good to see Jesse smiling. Genuinely happy, calm, at ease with him. Something he never expected to happen again. Definitely not so soon. Maybe Finch is just good at hiding it. Maybe he'll never get that trust back. But it's nice seeing him smile.

"Sounds like home." Bright lights, colours, even the shouting in Japanese. Jesse would fit in there. Not just because of the face, he'd make it on his own. He's a survivor. You know... except for that one time. "Desert's a lot like an acid trip, too. A lot like. Everythin's fast and flashy and fluid. Nothin' stays the same. Hard as you fight to keep it, nothin' stays. It's bright. It's loud. Like we gotta be twice as loud to make up for the people not sayin' anythin' at all. Like we gotta be a voice for all of 'em 'cause they won't fuckin' speak."

He's not sure if it's more difficult to talk about this now that everyone that knew is gone, or if it's easier. Because he's just talking to a friend. He doesn't have to keep his guard up. Hell, he hasn't had it up in a while. Ghoul's just not sure what to do with that or how it feels. He can't remember what it was like... to just talk to someone. No masks on, no code words. It's weird as all fuck.