savetheearth | Eighteenth Message [Video

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Eighteenth Message [Video | Sheet of Paper]

[A visual transmission of Anthony comes on - head ducked, shoulders tense, undead as ever. Bit of a smile, but a twitchy one, all the same looking in distinctly-enough better spirits than in his last transmission. Definitely got more attention in things, at least, more relaxed - evidently a certain amount of pep-talking among other things was good for that, as is the fact that the coat he's wearing is visibly enough rather nicer than any he's been wearing in the past, certainly makes for a less scraggly look.

Twitchy smile twitches a notch more visible and more politely awkward as his eyes center on the paper - occasional flick off as he talks, a little hoarsely - ]

-- Thank you - Blaine; it was uhh - ... -- unexpected.

[The halting and definite conclusive punctuation of the second phrase aside, it's rather hastily-said with a little of a breathy breaking-off on the name, as for heaven's sake it's got to be less than ideal saying it over the network, and specifying a name no less (in addition he's taking perhaps not a leap but some jump of faith on exactly who Blaine is, if he's right he was never formally given her name), but this is technically belated and the reason that it is is the reason that she'd be the only one he's not actually thanked for Christmas by now.

Picks up from something like a thick cough.] -- Also -- uhmm - ...

[And breaks off again. Chokes it in another cough He did not actually start that with any kind of thought - simply trying to add another thought to this for the same reason that he spoke quickly.

He's given up the ghost on the smile. His face is more strandedly neutral.

Picks up a little too absently high, though it flattens out quickly.]

... -- is ermm... [He's still got nothing.

- And never mind, no, there, he does - works and works for some way to start it as something worth asking - forces it out also too quickly to give it much voice, comes out cowed.]

-- anyone writing... anything - about -- this... - yet -- ? [A badly-worded question, and not one quite with the clear inflection of a question - if anything it wavered lower and dragged out. In case the justification's needed:]

-- Someone uhmm... - Suggested. -- That I write. [Picked up throatier. Still abashedly tapered off and thinned.]

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Writing about what?

[It takes him moment to fully-register the response and for that matter exactly what he'd said and how vaguely, clumsily he'd phrased it. He gets into place to respond to writing with writing and taps the pen in the air to come up with a response -

First thing to come to mind is a variant of "anything" but alas that was what he'd already said.]

I am not sure, sir. [Honesty is the best policy.] I had thought our experiences with what has been happening (in more depth that the guide) may be worth starting to write for the future. [Wishfully, hopefully, perhaps - and that's one reason it's perhaps foolish and here's another - ] We still may not know enough for it to mean much, though...

I think that's a good idea.

[ SCREAMS

literally, thereby garnering unwanted attention from fellow patrons of this lovely coffee shop, the likes of which angeline had been killing time in because that nice-enough elderly couple are still at the b&b and she's at her wit's end with friendly, but nosy and pushy old people.

l u c k i l y she just snagged a new smartphone earlier that day, thank you america and your post-christmas sales, so she can glance about apologetically whilst pointing at her screen. OH YOUTUBE, YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU'LL FIND ON THERE.

after damage control has been performed (poorly), angeline rushes off to the bathroom to inspect herself in the mirror. she lets out a sigh of relief when nothing appears to have changed. she had felt yet another hollowing sensation -- but perhaps there would be another set of clothes on her bed when she returned.

meekly, she returns to her seat. then, furious thumbing. ]

Why are you dressed up like that?! Halloween is over! Take that off!

[Essentially a question mark goes breezing into his mind on the first line and then comes the word Halloween and - oh, dear.

Face twitches and freezes - with something like an apologetically sheepish grin but without absolutely anything of the grin, more of a cringe - yes, definitely more of a very awkward cringe.] -- I er - apologize but I can't - I uhmm. ["Am an actual zombie" is too silly to jump on to and redirect to "this was done by pulses" should be obvious enough once it's established.

Goes floundering not-fully-attentively into a muttering and cowed-mostly uninflected - ] -- I'm sorry; I should have - ...should I have said something...?

[This is the second message in a row he's not given any sort of heads-up after all.]

[ OH MY GOD WHY DIDN'T SHE PLUG EARPHONES IN?!

because they were stolen and she hasn't replaced them yet. MUTE. ]

Do you have subtitles?

-- Ehck - [That was the rasped-out and cut-off beginning of an "Excuse me?" and then he goes rapidly blinking a couple of times wider as his brain catches up with him - ]

- No -- no one who isn't one of us can hear this if that - that -- that's uhmm... - a problem -- ...

[That trails off awkwardly high seeing as it dawns on him as he's finishing that that heavens that's an assumption, what if the texter just plain can't hear him, gives himself a mental knock, if anything he should have asked if he needed to switch to writing first, that'd apparently be perhaps-beneficial for two reasons...]

[ all she sees is a decaying mouth opening and closing. ]

I muted you.

[On one hand good to know, then, that was indeed in all likelihood the problem and on the other hand flinches, also indeed he should've switched to writing first - sorts it out, shuffles over to a writing surface, brings out his pen and switches the mode of communication on the first bit of ink.]

I apologize for that... However, no one who isn't one of us can hear what is said on this network. (In case it helps in the future!) [As again he figures there's a second reason text might be preferable in this case.]

[ whew, no more decay face. she eases a little. ]

Really? So I could talk to you and no one here would hear me? They heard me when I screamed, but so I guess that didn't count on this network.

[Ohh dear again, re-hashes this in case that's where the muting started or the one texting otherwise didn't catch it - ]

I am sorry I didn't say anything before I recorded that message... Also, a person would be able to hear you talking, but not someone speaking to you. You could write on the network and it would not draw attention no matter how anyone who you are writing to is connecting. (You are not in any trouble, if I may ask. Are you?) [Due to the screaming, that is, please do not have caused any blatant trouble.]

Edited 2013-12-29 23:09 (UTC)

(No, I played it off.) [ LIKE A PRO except not really. ] So it only works if I'm writing?

(I see. Good...) [Better than not certainly at the very least.] That is right. However, I am not sure if anyone watching you would be able to see your own writing... I do not know if I've been seen using it before by anyone who is not like us.

[ metaphorical chin rub. ]

If someone saw you that would be a problem.

[ she switches to video just to try it out. she's holding her phone out and up in front of her, then lowers it to the table. what anthony will notice is that her skin is turning blue and she's getting a serious case of raccoon eyes.

she's in a corner. she has no idea what's happening.

in a quiet voice, she says, experimentally, ] He-llooo...

[ glances around. no one's looking at her. looks back to the camera.

a little louder: ] Hello?

Edited 2013-12-30 01:11 (UTC)

[Connection switches - he blinks at attention; hadn't made the connection with her number until now, recognizes her from the bit of video in her own message by the hair and -

Discolored skin. Sunken eyes. Something in his gut is sinking, and in his brain - he cannot be seeing this correctly.

She's speaking; is it acceptable to talk again as well, she wasn't alone before, who knows if she is now, gives into impulse - lets out a tentative "Uhmm -- " just too little to properly catch and alter the connection, experimentally, and it's stupidly shaky, got to confirm that his mind's playing tricks on him, force himself to try a plain esponse first - ]

I can see you. Something may be wrong or I may be seeing things (which happens occasionally). [He deliberates, different versions of a question go whirling, all of them incoherent, and God, he's got to be seeing things, that's not especially different than how he looked when this started, but if she'd turned exactly like him then she couldn't have shown no sign of not having felt it!] Did you have a pulse?

[He wants to follow that up with something else and has as little clue on what to follow it up with as he does on whether that was the best question to jot down.]

Edited 2013-12-30 01:35 (UTC)

A--? Oh, oh, a-- yeah. Why?

[ ain't nothin' was wrong with her in the bathroom! ]

[Options are "You look the way I did when I started turning" or "Try to look at yourself and tell me if you see anything", pen tip is pressing into the paper - ]

Please look at your ~~hand~~ Please hold up your hand and look at it. What color is it?

[And that was a laughable way to put it!]

Huh? Why- [ cue strangled scream that dies in the back of her throat.

she slaps the phone to her chest. she's blue, she's blue, why is she blue? oh lord, people are looking--! she drops the phone in her lap and haphazardly throws on her coat, the same coat she'd Echoed back, and pulls up the hood. then she shoves her phone into her coat pocket and books it out of there.

only after she's power-walked around the block with her head down and gloves on does she realize she could've hid in the coffee shop's bathroom instead. now she's out in public public and altogether way too frazzled to think clearly. ]

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god...

[The reaction's quick - and enough to send it driving through his brain quick clean and sharp and forceful that oh, God, he was right! before the phone is pocketed and he's along for the ride.

Heart and lungs are defunct. Internal response is nothing but a plain and festering, slow-plummeting sick one as he slowly angles his elbow, lifts a hand, drops his forehead onto it and starts to squeeze - gawking into the visual or lack thereof for some sign of something, listening for anything but simple moving sounds - lets out a suppressedgroan in spite of anything someplace.

Eyes flick back to the pen in his free hand. Thinks to write "How are you feeling?" in case she stops to pull it out again partly as grab at something to hint that it's not quite what it looks to be, his head just went there - if the answer is something sufficiently close to no different but it won't be seen straight away, he can speak up, if she hears it, she hears it, can respond when it's clear - ]

How -- ... [Voice still contains what of the previous groan didn't quite get through - hastily gulps it and grabs the sentence back up - ] - are you feeling -- ?

[ is that... anthony's voice coming from her pocket? she slows down a little, removing her phone from her pocket and lifting it to her ear. enjoy your all too close up view of navy hair and ear, anthony. elegant. ]

He- hello? Are you still there? Was that you?

Edited 2013-12-30 04:21 (UTC)

[Was what him is the first thought that pops into his head with another very low and uneasy pang - but never mind, was that him speaking she means, and good, she heard, she's in position to answer - unless she's covering it up by attempting to use a video-connected phone as normal, that or she simply didn't notice the visual. Either way she can answer -

Dials his voice a bit to match the closeness in proximity to her ear.]

-- Yes I'm uhmm. - I'm still here - how - how are you feeling... - ? [The repetition was a little hasty, a little dragged out as if he's right about what appears to've happened after all that's a terrible question...]

[ her pace quickens as she responds. ]

Not normal! What do I do? I can't go home like this!

[Not normal, can't go home, voice creaks out sharp - ] -- You live with people -- ? [It was blurted out helplessly high and is a stupid question, of course she does, that'd be implied in that and besides she looks young enough that it wouldn't be farfetched, and even if it wasn't clarifying the obvious it wouldn't be a strictly useful question!]

Yes! Two people plus two more people! [ aw man, the elderly couple are going to get all up in her grill about this, she just knows it. ] Oh god, they're never going to leave me alone! They're going to--

[ and that's when she walks into jovan and unexpectedly ends the conversation. ]

Not much to thank me for. I hope you like them.

I haven't ever seen most of them, actually... [She didn't ask and even if she did that was a daft remark to make, unsure what his purpose was with it.] Thank you, again. Also, I apologize if I should not have done it ~~this way~~ [Publically? Over the network?] with a public message.

[She is rather glad about that - sure, it always feels awkward when people think that she did anything out of starry-eyed idealism (and every kind of altruistic or semi-altruistic act feels like that to her), but it also means that maybe more people will remember her doing nice things for people should she need help. And considering that she might be turning into something akin to what Ryan is turning into... yeah. She might need support. Hopefully not. She doesn't think that anyone would care about her enough to rely on her or be a reliable support for her. But maybe she can bully people into it with a karma-like approach. I did nice things, I deserve nice things and if I don't get them you should feel bad. Stuff like that.

...anyway.] It's fine. You can donate those that you don't want, somewhere, I know there's places like that. They aren't returnable anyway.

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