citylogs | november catch-all [open]

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november catch-all [open]

WHO: (

reflexio) & you!!
WHAT: November catch-all and obligatory "where tf am I" log
WHERE: Everywhere (Welcome Diner, ~~your~~ an apartment, city park, etc.)
WHEN: Early November
WARNINGS: adjusted as needed

a. diner.

[ Wandering about proves to be fruitless. Instead, Yi Sang retraces his steps to the station.

Only then does he notice the flyers with their bold headlines. "LOST? NEW?" Yes, those two adjectives certainly describe him. He glances at the message posted on the flyer, memorizes the directions printed on it, and follows them to --

He inspects the building before him. Definitely a diner, though he's not sure what he'd expected given the flyer's notation of "The Welcome Diner."

It's difficult to tell whether anyone's inside, but the restaurant gives off a warm vibe. It's just enough of a nudge to encourage him into pushing the door open. After all, a lead is a lead.

...something warm to eat would be nice too. ]

Excuse me. Is this The Welcome Diner?

[ The flyers said it would be The Welcome Diner. The sign outside also reads "THE WELCOME DINER." Ergo, this must be The Welcome Diner, but one can never be too cautious given the bizarre city. ]

b. ~~your~~ an apartment.

[ The first door he'd opened revealed an empty living room. Its white walls and freshly-vacuumed floor are welcoming, but there's something terribly unsettling about the empty room too.

Yi Sang shuts the door to avoid thinking about it too hard.

He leaves the building and tries the one next to it. Just like the previous apartment complex, there's no trace of a soul in the lobby. He wanders to one of its doors, slowly turning the door knob and it's... unlocked?

Perhaps there has been no need to install locks on these apartment doors.

He steps into the living room and, immediately, it's apparent someone lives here, or at the very least, someone had lived here. Should he have knocked? Well, too late for that. He spies a picture frame on the coffee table, lifting it into his hands. There's... nothing in it. Odd.

Something shifts behind him. The sudden noise catches Yi Sang off guard, picture frame slipping through his fingers and shattering on the hardwood floor. ]

...my apologies. The door was unlocked.

[ Which isn't really a proper excuse, but it's the truth. ]

... Do you live here?

c. city park.

[ The expanse of lush green feels a bit out of place compared to all the buildings Yi Sang passed on his way here. And despite all the life contained within the flora, the lack of birds chirping is troubling.

Nevertheless, he's developed an affinity for the park over the past few days. It's peaceful for the most part, allowing him to recount what he's discovered so far: City Hall's record rooms? Empty. Tourist Center? Nothing of note. Greenhouse at the poison garden? Bad. Stuffed full of carnivorous plants.

A bound notebook lies open in his lap, a pen resting in its spine to mark his spot. Yi Sang uses one of his hands to keep the notebook flat. The other one, bandaged a bit haphazardly, rests in his lap.

Perhaps if one were to yell, he would lift his head to see who is calling for him. Otherwise, he appears deep in thought, a pensive frown on his face. ]

d. wildcard.

[ if none of these work, feel free to hmu for something more tailored! A PM is good or you can lmk here o7 ]

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[ hong lu considers this. a book without a title until the book is finished. then how, hong lu wonders, would anyone know what the book is about without reading it? what if the book is never finished. but it's yi sang - yi sang will always finish what he has started to write. he wrote those letters after all, the letters that were very much like a cry for help. anyone with the courage to write those, no matter how subconsciously, has the courage to finish their story.

hong lu thinks, suddenly, that he would like to see it. the title of that finished book. ]

I look forward to it. I want to read it when it's done.

[ hong lu smiles, and drops another handful of broken glass shards upon yi sang's page. ] So don't rip out too many pages. Otherwise, there's less space for you to write everything you want to, right? And there'll be less for me to read.

[ Yi Sang doesn't think the book will be very interesting. On the other hand, it is said that each person is their own worst critic. If Hong Lu wishes to read the notebook once it's full, who is he to deny him of that desire? ]

I shall inform you once it is complete. Yet, I cannot predict whether this single notebook will be sufficient. ...I may find there is more that I wish to take note of, and thus, continuing my observations in a second book.

[ Perhaps it would be a never-ending book. Even if Yi Sang is inclined to finish the tasks that he sets out to accomplish, he doesn't think it would be such a bad thing. How nice it would be, he thinks, to spend one's life continuously coming across interesting things.

But Hong Lu has a point, he thinks to himself as he also drops some more broken glass on the page. He should probably be tearing pages out of the book more sparingly. ]

I would request your assistance in filling one of these pages. ...you may recall Miss Faust's comment that Limbus Company does not maintain any lists of people's favorite items. Thus, I would dedicate a page for recording your own.

[ a second notebook... there's an idea. hong lu wonders what it would take to get a notebook in this world. yi sang's notebook seems rather plain. hong lu remembers the notebooks back at the compound, with their tortoiseshell covers, or rolled up in little cylinders. hong lu hadn't been allowed to touch those, because they were made from the skin of rare animals or plants, and had text on there that hong lu wasn't good enough to read.

but yi sang likes his notebook. perhaps hong lu will have to find him one that looks similar to it. he considers this. ]

A page for my favourite items? [ the thought is an intriguing one. hong lu peers at the torn page. it's a rather long page. hm. ] I don't know if there are enough things that I like to fill a page that long. Do you?

[ and how does one come up with enough things to like? hong lu supposes he can list the mundane - he likes the sun, the rain, he likes being outside and doing his own things. but do those count enough to put on a page? ]

[ Yi Sang's notebook is nothing like the ones from the compound. It does not have a tortoiseshell cover, nor does he keep it rolled up in a little cylinder. Its leather bound covers are worn, and its pages are no longer crisp. The spine is creased from how frequently the book has been opened and closed.

Save for the fact that it's clearly not a new notebook though, it's in reasonably good condition. It's plain and not flashy at all. ]

There is no need to fill the entire page immediately.

[ He glances down at the piece of paper lying on the floor. Almost all the glass is collected on its surface. Those shards weigh it down, pinioning it against the ground. ]

I do not believe I could list enough items to fill the page, but... I think I would like to reach that point someday. It would be helpful to have a list, in case I should forget.

[ After all, Hong Lu knows there had been a time when he could not think of anything good for himself. Hong Lu knows about that hole in his chest, one that he's managed to mend for now. But should it be torn open again, it may be wise to have a list of all the things he could use to fill it again. ]

[ hong lu thinks - eventually, everyone forgets. a human's body is nothing but a void. you can throw all kinds of things in there, and it will fill up, but with time, everything falls through like a sieve. in the end, each person is alone, and bound. no person is truly free - not from the void, not from time, not from themselves.

this, hong lu doesn't say, because he would like to see yi sang's page full. he promised to be an anchor, after all. are anchors not supposed to remember the last place where a ship has been moored? even if yi sang forgets, hong lu will remember. he has very little to remember, after all, so there's plenty of space in his memories for such things.

this, hong lu doesn't say. instead: ]

Hmm... since neither of us has enough to fill a page, shall we share a page for now? That way, you won't have to use up twice as many pages. We can always fill up one page together, and then fill up the second one.

[ Oh. He hadn't thought of that. Yi Sang intended to leave an entire page to each person he acquainted himself with, even leaving the entire backs of those pages for that same purpose.

Sharing a page though -- that does sound nice. If they fill up one page and then a second one together, it would result in the same amount of space as though they'd each had their own page. Yi Sang nods, satisfied with that suggestion. ]

We may, for now. Perhaps we might even require a third page.

[ Would that be too greedy? Would that be too selfish?

He scoops up the final remnants of glass off the floor, setting them upon the sheet of paper. Time has flown with the aid of conversation. The only sign of the earlier mess is a little pile of what was once the empty picture frame. ]

[ a third page. or a fourth. perhaps they can fill a book? but hong lu is not the optimist in this conversation. perhaps they will fill two pages, and the void will take the rest. nobody is free from their nature, after all. but nobody says that such things much make it onto the page. even if hong lu is the only one who remembers, it will be enough.

the glass tumbles onto the little pile. hong lu looks. the frame hadn't been a particularly large one, but seeing how little it looks as mere glass shards makes you think that the state of things truly change how these things look and feel. hong lu leans down and prods at the little pile of glass. he hums. ]

I'd like that. [ he laughs. ] Starting with this page, then. It's already been filled, but it's been filled by the glass.

[ still, if they're going to frame it... hong lu looks. he walks to the all, and removes another one of the photos. the photo comes out; it's left on the table as hong lu meanders back to yi sang. he holds out the new frame. ]

Here. So you can put the glass pieces in here.

[ Yi Sang accepts the empty frame into his hands. It's much larger than the ones arranged on the coffee table. It should fit the pieces of glass well. He turns it over, opening the back and setting it on the floor next to the sheet of paper. Yi Sang clutches the paper carefully on either side, slowly sliding the broken glass into the frame. The larger pieces tumble into it first, then the smaller ones, until the fine pieces of glass dust he'd collected join the rest of the pile.

He glances down at the empty sheet of paper. It may not be a piece of glass, but it feels like it's become a part of the shattered picture frame. Yi Sang sets it on top of the scattered glass before setting the frame's backing on again. It creates a white backdrop, a plain scenery for the glass to enjoy.

Once sealed, Yi Sang gingerly flips the frame over. It is no longer a photo frame; now, it is a glass frame.

He holds it back out to Hong Lu. Here is their first adornment for their shared grave. ]

[ yi sang fills the frame with shattered glass. hong lu looks. it must be, hong lu thinks, how a god once made the world. they must have done so in pieces, filling up nothing with something until all that was left was something. it must have been beautiful to behold. hong lu would have liked to see it.

it's then with some surprise that yi sang holds out the glass frame to him. hong lu's head tilts. he takes the frame into his hands. a decoration for their shared grave, hong lu thinks. this is the very first.

he feels warm. it's a new sensation. it's lovely. ]

Where should we hang it, Yi Sang?

[ hong lu holds it up. he peers at the far wall. ] Perhaps over there? There's sunlight striking the wall, so wouldn't it be nice if the glass shards got to bathe in sunlight every day? Perhaps they will wake up, and change shape.

[ Yi Sang considers Hong Lu's question with utmost importance. Yi Sang always considers Hong Lu's questions seriously. He surveys the humble expanse of the apartment's walls, imagining what the frame would look like in each spot.

Hong Lu holds the frame up. Yi Sang pictures it in his head, thinking about what the shards might look like bathed in sunlight. Perhaps they would appreciate it, being given the opportunity to soak up all that warmth.

He nods in response. ]

Indeed, we should offer them the chance to observe the rising sun.

[ He wanders over to the far wall, searching for a spare nail. It seems they're in luck; there's a nail sticking out of that wall without anything to perch upon it. Maybe the previous resident of this apartment had a similar idea, to hang something up in a place where it could wake with the sun. Yi Sang raises a hand and points at the nail. ]

Over here. This should suffice.

[ yi sang raises a finger. hong lu's gaze traces it. and then, gently, he goes to hang the photo. hong lu's never hung anything before. he feels clumsy, trying to get the photo frame on the nail, but it's a good kind of clumsy, the kind that reminds hong lu a little of a baby chick climbing out of its egg. he's smiling as he stands back to observe his handiwork. a little crooked, so he adjusts it to the right. ah, but it's crooked again, so he adjusts it the other way. the little splinters of glass clink inside, dancing from one side of the frame to the next.

oh, the weight of them is tilting it, hong lu thinks. he laughs. ]

It's tilting no matter what I do with it. Yi Sang, should we keep it this way, or should we find a way to balance it? I wouldn't know how to do it, though. I've always been a little crooked, I think.

[ just a little off-kilter, just a little off-balanced. hong lu has, after all, only one blue eye. hong lu has, after all, only one brown eye. just one of each, and he never quite knows which way he will lilt. ]

[ Yi Sang observes Hong Lu adjusting the frame on the wall. He watches as the other tilts it one way before trying to tilt it the other way.

Hong Lu's always been a little off-kilter, just a little off-balanced. Yi Sang has spent most of his time stagnant, idle, unchanging. Both of his eyes are the same dull gray. But he's less wary of change now, of flux, and he finds he doesn't quite mind being off-balance. After all, it's that potential for change that keeps life interesting.

So he answers: ]

It does not cause me any concern to have the frame off-balance. Perhaps its tilt is an inherent part of its nature. If so, that is acceptable to me. It is a part of the display's uniqueness.

[ And... a part of its charm. ]

Uniqueness, huh.

[ says hong lu, with a wistful little smile. wasn't that what the family always said? that hong lu was a gem of a child, a unique existence that couldn't be found anywhere. for the longest time, hong lu hadn't liked it, the idea of being 'unique'. 'unique' meant he couldn't go outside; 'unique' meant endless studying and endless nagging, 'unique' meant the aunts and uncles cast terrible looks across at him over dinner tables, and 'unique' meant that the world always seemed so far away. there never seemed to be anything fun about being unique, just whatever it was that made him something they wanted to keep.

but the way yi sang says it makes it sound like it's a good thing. a singular image in that mirror of his, one that couldn't be replicated. even if it's by a genius like yi sang, who made it so that hong lu can experience what his other lives are like in ther universes. he's never thanked yi sang for that, hong lu thinks. he ought to, one of these days.

he tilts the glass frame again. the pieces shift. ]

Hmm... then, I like it. It's 'uniqueness'. [ for the first time, he doesn't dislike it. the thought of it being unique. ] After all, it means that there are no other frames like it, right? Nobody else would wake up and see a glass frame full of glass, but we'll know what it means.

Do you like it, Yi Sang?

Indeed, I am rather confident that no other frames will resemble ours.

[ "Ours," says Yi Sang. He thinks he might like the sound of that word. He might even get used to it.

Placing shards of glass within a picture frame is already an unorthodox thing to do. Compounding the item's originality is the fact that the glass had been fractured, splintering into several different pieces. It's unlikely that anyone else would be able to replicate the shape of each broken shard.

He'd been the catalyst for scattering the glass. Hong Lu is the one who assisted in arranging the pieces and determined where to ultimately hang the frame. It's an item that's been irrevocably molded by both of their hands.

He nods. ]

I do. I never did fully grasp the appeal of decorating one's walls, until now.

[ hong lu looks. he smiles. ]

I've never decorated a wall, until now. [ he says, with a wistful little lilt. because those walls in the estate had been his and hadn't been his. not really. they were decorated for him, and he lived within them, and for the longest time, he had thought that enough.

it makes him think, what else can the two of them do, now that they have the time to do it? it's really something to think about. he turns to yi sang. ]

Shall we do it more often, then? There's still quite a bit of wall to fill in. There are four walls in every room. Even if they're a bit small, it'll be nice to have things on them, right?

It seems we share that in common.

[ Yi Sang never had much interest in decorating the place he'd called home in T Corp. It never really felt like home, and it didn't seem like hanging items on the walls would make it feel any better. Nor were there many decorations mounted on the walls at the workshop. Wall real estate was precious there, as the walls were better used to pin up blueprints and schematics as opposed to things like pictures.

Once again, Yi Sang falls back into thought. Although the apartment only has the basics as far as rooms, it's more than enough space for the two of them to call their own. Hong Lu finds the walls a bit small. They must be, Yi Sang thinks to himself, given that the entire apartment is the size of a single closet to him. ]

Perhaps we shall accumulate items in the future. ...but in the meanwhile, this frame is sufficient. It is a beginning. From here, several possibilities may unfold.

[ And that has always been true. ]

[ oh, hong lu thinks. for the first time in a long time, he is thinking of the future.

there is a description here of what it may entail. shopping trips in a world without money, asking questions to understand what can be put in a room, picking out things and moving it in, deciding to discard things when they no longer want it. it's that sort of thing. it must be mundane to someone. but hong lu, who has never seen even a glimpse of his future before, feels his pulse pick up, just a little.

how lovely and grand it must be. ]

... let's do it, then. See where those possibilities lead.

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november catch-all [open]

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