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

[gleans]

Galen can pretty much feel the excitement for the music emanating from Ghoul, and it makes him grin. This is how a memorial should feel. Out of all the stories of all the different mourning rituals in the world that his dad used to tell him, growing up, his favourites were always the ones that celebrated life. Taking some time to mourn is fine, but it's okay to be happy.

Before Galen pulls his guitar from his back, though, he reaches into his back pocket for some folded papers, each one sealed with a little sticker (which he may or may not have stolen from Kenzi). One for dad, one for mom, one for Brad, one for Daphne, and one for Charlotte. He stares at them for a moment, smile faltering just a little.

"Just wish they'd actually get these." He wants to apologize to his friends so badly, sometimes, that it keeps him up at night.

[tooghoulforschool]

The sight of the letters makes his heart swell. Seriously, he's all fuzzy and genuinely touched. Galen's taking this seriously. It means something to him. He's not just indulging a broken man from an alternate future with a fractured way of looking at life... he's taking up a tradition made quite recently by people just trying to live out on their own. It means a lot.

"Whatever you got to say to 'em, sure they already know." He steps away from the mailbox, giving Galen some room. Giving him some time. Big grin on his face, just smiling from ear to ear. Not at his sadness, not at his loss, no. He's happy this is getting some use. He's happy that he could help. Even just a little. After all the shit he's pulled? After everything he and his crew have done to Galen? This doesn't make up for it, but it's a start.

"Just drop 'em in, Starshine. They'll go where they need to go."

[gleans]

Galen takes another moment to look over the crappy little paper notes, holding them between his hands, before he steps forward to pull the mailbox door open and send all five of them on their way into the box's depths. For a second, he lets himself imagine what this must be like in the desert, mourning loved ones, saying goodbye with the hot sun on your neck and an uncertain future. For a moment, he thinks he understands Ghoul a little more.

He lets the door shunk shut again and takes a step back, then runs his hand back through his hair. "Okay. Cool. You do anything special after putting them in?"

[tooghoulforschool]

"Nah, baby." He grins, "Not unless you count drivin' fast, playin' it loud, and shootin' em up along the way. Celebration, my friend. All you gotta do, just do it loud." Maybe grab a bite, split something out of a can between all of them.

"Or you could do a little fuckin' dance, raise your arms t'the sky, throw your head back and howl. Whatever the fuck you want. No point tellin' someone how to pray or how to mourn, yeah? Just gonna do it their own way anyway. All ways are acceptable." He claps a hand on Galen's shoulder, still smiling. You do what you want, Galen Howard. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

[gleans]

Galen smiles, and instead opts for the kind of remembering he's good at: music. He reaches to pull the guitar around to his front, then digs into his pocket again for one of his makeshift picks.

"There's this one group of people in Madagascar," he begins, still digging, "who believe that decomposition is the most important part of death, because once the bodies decompose, the dead get to go to the afterlife. So like -- every seven years, they dig up their dead, wrap them up fresh, and fuckin' -- dance around with them to live music before burying them again." He feels like Ghoul might appreciate that fact.

"Fuck -- found it." He pulls the pick out, settles the guitar back in front of him. "Just think that's pretty cool."