Inbox: Upcycled

[syntech]

[Just that simple, automated voice saying 'leave a message'.]

This page also serves as the text inbox for Ethan's Upcycled phone, as well as for any more secure networks he/someone may set up to use.

Comments

[grice]

[ ah . . . she almost reminded falco of a princess of some sort, not just by beauty, but especially because of the way she spoke. charisma, goodness— it almost felt like you could talk back to her, and it brings a quaint, warming smile to falco's face. he edges off of his seat and even begins to lean. it's over too soon, and even when it starts up again only to shut off in silence . . . falco looks over to ethan with a visible likeness in his eyes. ]

She looks a lot like you, there. [ he wasn't sure how he could put into words what he was feeling without it simply being "she looks so nice". ] Did she work a lot?

[syntech]

[He'd laugh if he knew that - Lily was anything but a princess, charisma or not. But it's... kind of nice, seeing someone else as entranced as he's always been. It dims the ache of separation a bit more, and his lips quirk unevenly at the comment on her looks.]

You think so? I guess we did never get mistaken for anything but siblings. [He'd have accepted 'she looks so nice', honestly.] She worked about as normal, I think. I was the one who was always gone.

It was safer for her. Well... it was supposed to be. With what I do, nothing is perfectly safe, though.

[grice]

[ he’s heard of occupational hazards . . . hell, he was part of one, and even if everything happened in the wrong place and the wrong time— it’s hard to shake off the feeling that he killed colt. he can imagine that it might be the same sentiment: blame. ]

Your job was dangerous?

[syntech]

A bit, yeah. The work itself's not inherently dangerous, but... I mean, what I do? It can be.

We're basically infiltrators, going in to find information people are trying to hide, you know? Naturally, they have defenses in place. So I had my own, and separated myself from the people I knew.

[He can't help but laugh, setting his fork down. It doesn't take him long to get full, really.]

Wasn't... really hard, before. She was really the only person I was around, other than people who helped me handle my disease.

[grice]

[ understanding washing there on falco's face now, at how much infiltration and stealing information could truly be dangerous. he knew what people could do, to either retaliate, or scare, or even enact revenge. he swallows a little more tightly than he had wished was audible. ]

I wish I had a video of Colt . . . [ or a picture, or anything, really. he shifts his legs together and places his hands on his lap. he'd watch it everyday. ] He's my older brother.

[syntech]

It's... an up and down sort of feeling.

[Ethan says it without hesitation, without remorse. With a little bit of saddened understanding, too, that echoes in his face. Of course... his feelings are twofold, what with the other file he has involving her. That's something he hopes Falco never gets to witness.]

You remember him, though - there's that too. All the best things, those stay right with you. [He places a hand on his chest, over his heart. If he didn't have that video, he's not... always sure he could say the same. But still, it's true.] What's he like?

[grice]

[ the best and the worst, he thinks, but that’s all a part of experience— nothing would ever be a rose bed when the innocence of its existence was taken so early. ]

He looked just like me. Or— I look just like him. He was always looking out for me . . . And we were in the same unit, so, we’d see each other all the time. [ colt came first, after all. wider shoulders. more grown into the frame of a man than a boy, sandy blond hair and hazel eyes. ] He’s gone, too.

[syntech]

[He can see it, he thinks. The way Falco might grow up, fill out his form, stand tall and sure. There's a lot to question - most of it already answered in a sort of absent fact.

He doesn't know what it's like for the dead
Can never decide if he thinks it'd be better that there was some kind of heaven, some place for the soul to depart. In the end, it doesn't matter. Knowing probably wouldn't help him find the right words.]

I'm sorry for your loss. He sounds like he was a good man. Protective, even. And... There's still something that lingers, at least. You keep him close, so he'll never be completely gone.

[grice]

I think that was the last thing he said to me.

[ it still jumbles from time to time, and, his head starts splitting if he tries too hard to remember the details right before one’s very first transformation. at least, when falco remembers it, despite the subtle wince that makes him press his temple to his shoulder, he sounds . . . longing, at the very least. despite colt being gone, the last thing he saw from him, painfully so, was love. falco was sure he’d stupidly do the same thing. ]

I don’t remember it that well, but I feel it. [ a small pat to his chest, and, an amiable chance, he pours a cup of fruit juice for each one (natural, no added sugar), and lifts his. ] To them?

[syntech]

[The smile he gives is warm, head inclining lightly. It's a lot, but they're here and that matters.]

Sometimes, feeling it is all you really need. [He raises his glass on turn when Falco does, smile broadening slightly. He clinks the two together gently then, as he speaks.]

To them.