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[VIDEO]
[a mild, plain-looking face shows up on the screen, blue eyes tired but vaguely surprised as they look down at the screen.]
Well, would you look at that. Doesn't that just beats the shit out the old Macintosh. Not to mention chat rooms. And telephones, for that matter. At least, if I'm actually talking to people? [a quick, toothy smile and a fake little wave] Heya. Tobias Beecher, nice to meet you.
[he looks ready to lose it then, like a sudden bout of laughter's just going to erupt. It passes, and he says mildly:] So, Exsilium, huh? Doesn't exactly have the same fun fairytale ring to it as "Oz" or "Emerald City", but I guess you guys make up for it with all that "alternate universe" and "sentient weapons" crap. Mine hasn't started talking to me yet, but hey, maybe it's only a matter of time! [Beecher wiggles what looks like a bed-spring at the camera, although one end of it has been unwound and sharpened to a point.
He plays with it a bit as he continues, sounding awfully cheery, and awfully fake] So if I've got all this straight, I've been taken somewhere I can't leave, and I don't really have a choice about it, and I've been provided with a bed and the basic creature comforts and we're all expected to get along together all nice and civilized like. Now, gee, what sort of place does that remind me of...?
[Beecher tilts his head, his voice a sort of sing-song:]
Mary had a pretty bird,
Feathers bright and yellow,
Slender legs, upon my word!
He was a pretty fellow.
The sweetest notes he always sang,
Which much delighted Mary;
And near the cage she'd ever sit
To hear her own canary.
[there's a pause where Beecher gives a breathy chuckle, pleased with himself. Then,] ...You know, I'm... well, I was, supposed to be up for parole soon. So - what passes for a parole board in this shiny new shithole? [Beecher's lips twitch into a grin, blue eyes lit, and he titters into his hand. It's unstable, odd, a freak gurgle. It loses momentum. Beecher's expression cools, becomes pensive, and he ends the feed.]
Well, would you look at that. Doesn't that just beats the shit out the old Macintosh. Not to mention chat rooms. And telephones, for that matter. At least, if I'm actually talking to people? [a quick, toothy smile and a fake little wave] Heya. Tobias Beecher, nice to meet you.
[he looks ready to lose it then, like a sudden bout of laughter's just going to erupt. It passes, and he says mildly:] So, Exsilium, huh? Doesn't exactly have the same fun fairytale ring to it as "Oz" or "Emerald City", but I guess you guys make up for it with all that "alternate universe" and "sentient weapons" crap. Mine hasn't started talking to me yet, but hey, maybe it's only a matter of time! [Beecher wiggles what looks like a bed-spring at the camera, although one end of it has been unwound and sharpened to a point.
He plays with it a bit as he continues, sounding awfully cheery, and awfully fake] So if I've got all this straight, I've been taken somewhere I can't leave, and I don't really have a choice about it, and I've been provided with a bed and the basic creature comforts and we're all expected to get along together all nice and civilized like. Now, gee, what sort of place does that remind me of...?
[Beecher tilts his head, his voice a sort of sing-song:]
Mary had a pretty bird,
Feathers bright and yellow,
Slender legs, upon my word!
He was a pretty fellow.
The sweetest notes he always sang,
Which much delighted Mary;
And near the cage she'd ever sit
To hear her own canary.
[there's a pause where Beecher gives a breathy chuckle, pleased with himself. Then,] ...You know, I'm... well, I was, supposed to be up for parole soon. So - what passes for a parole board in this shiny new shithole? [Beecher's lips twitch into a grin, blue eyes lit, and he titters into his hand. It's unstable, odd, a freak gurgle. It loses momentum. Beecher's expression cools, becomes pensive, and he ends the feed.]
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It's inconvenient for everyone, to say the least, but you will see them again. And, lucky for you, you don't get to bypass the parole board, if the rumors are true.
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That's what they say, at least. I've never met anyone who's actually left and then come back.
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Perfect. That's - perfect. Thank you.
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[ is he joking? he's joking, isn't he? is that why he's laughing? certainly he couldn't be that elated, so belle just blinks. and stares. bites her lip.
he's gonna be okay, right? ]
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He waves at her, then finally brings himself back]
You're fine, it's fine. Just adjusting.
How long have you been here? Personally, I mean. I know there are some people who've been here over a year, so...
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[ she nods, managing a thin smile. ]
I've been here - going on three months, I think.
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I guess I just wasn't expecting so much downtime.
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As for leaving the war itself entirely, I'm not sure there's any way to do that, unfortunately.
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