001M

[toobig]

video; [11:37PM]

 [Bertholdt writes his number down in the corner of a page he's editing, without thinking about it. He had gotten a headache from staring at the computer for so long, and was now curled up on his couch in his apartment, the flip side of the manuscript he's working on visible to the network, as well as all of his red pen edits and small notes. His handwriting is cramped but neat, small block letters that are easily readable, even mirrored. He doesn't seem to notice what's going on at first, too focused on what he's doing, but when he pauses to pushes his glasses up his sweaty nose he blinks and stares at the paper. He flips to the next one and finds that the same thing is happening.]

[It takes him a pretty long time to actually say anything while he's trying to figure out what's going on, and even then it's just:] 

... What? 

Comments

text;

[thorny]

How trite. I do hope that you've something better to offer us.

[is she talking about his glorious introduction or the contents of the manuscript? the world will never know]

[toobig]

[He blinks at the text that's suddenly appeared, and sighs a little. He'll have to redo this page entirely, what a hassle. He's not sure whether this person can hear him or not, but he's more comfortable writing anyway. So he'll write, after scribbling his pen against the paper a little,]

Something better? What do you mean?

[thorny]

Isn't it obvious? You can't really be so blind as to be unable to see the subpar fare you've offered up. It's practically insulting.

[toobig]

If you're talking about the manuscript, it might be a little subpar but the other choice was depressed, werevampire beauty queens.

[He's not joking.]

[thorny]

Oh, and here I'd been hoping that perhaps you had some literary merit. I'm quite disappointed to know this is the utmost you're capable of.

[toobig]

I don't write it, I just edit whatever the publisher sends over.

[thorny]

Even worse! You'd think that after such a miserable display you'd lie rather than dig yourself further into the cesspool of dull mediocrity.

voice {iphone}

[ursoreckless]

[Shou should know better by now but instead he is just going to take the easier route.]

Welcome to the secret numbers club.

[toobig]

[He looks a little sad, then. He's pretty mediocre, let's be real. Even random strangers on the internet think so. Bertholdt sighs softly.]

Do you need something?

[toobig]

[Voices now too? He lets out an audible sigh, staring at the page in front of him. What a strange dream.]

The... there's a club?

[thorny]

An apology, at the very least. I'd ask you to provide us with something more interesting to make up with this humdrum display but that seems to be beyond your meager abilities.

[toobig]

It's been a while since I've had anything but teenage fantasy.

[There's a pause and the screen flips as he turns the paper on its front to continuing writing on the back, the type of the manuscript disappearing.]

You could do better?

[ursoreckless]

Unfortunately, yeah. [Shou has a Japanese accent, although he is rather good at making sure to not slur his words and pronouncing the L and R sounds fairly well.]

You have a weird number stuck in your head, and for some reason something weird happened to you before, like a dream, or a thought or seeing something out of place. There's a whole bunch of us in the same boat and we're all part of this club.

[toobig]

[That's... too oddly specific. Bertholdt sits up a little, tapping his pen against the page idly.]

S-something out of place...? Yeah... What... did it mean?

[ursoreckless]

It's just a kind of pulse of a past that you might not be aware of yet.

[toobig]

That... Doesn't make sense, though?

[He still hadn't figured out that first beat of strangeness, it still bothered him...]

[thorny]

You should have taken that hint as to your employer's opinion of your capability.

I think that a lobotomized monkey could do better than what I've seen thus far. But I suppose I shouldn't judge too harshly! The American literary scene is in a moldering decay for just this reason.

[ursoreckless]

It doesn't yet it's something we're all going through.

text;

[hollowleg]

pffft. welcome to the secret number club, man. we should get badges.

also don't mind hikari (that first person you talked to). she's like that to everybody.

video;

[wirsinddiejager]

Yeah, 'what' pretty much sums it up. That's what all the rest of us are saying.

text;

[shortspoken]

[ JOY UPON JOYS. Bertholdt is lucky enough to be one of the early targets for Ellie's information-gathering questionnaire! Largely because he looks like a likely candidate to actually comply and fill it out. It's the beta vibes. ]

FAQ. Read it, then fill out the form.

Name: (An alias is fine.)
Location: (You're clearly in Locke, so an approximation - North, Central, etc - will do.)
Abilities: (Ideally anything useful in a combat situation or regained by the "pulses" or "echoes" that we all experience.)

text;

[thorny]

Only when they deserve it. (*´・ｖ・)

[toobig]

[He sighs, and there's just some scribbles for a while, while Bertholdt collects his thoughts enough to reply.]

I agree with you.

[toobig]

I don't... get it.

[He almost seems a little scared, to be very honest. Bertholdt is far too timid in nature for this sort of thing.]

Past lives aren't... a real thing though. Right?

[He's edited enough books with the same silly notions. Romance and tragedy are common place enough that he just can't care about them anymore.]

[toobig]

I'm still unsure about what people mean by..."secret numbers club." Doesn't anyone know what they are beyond that?

I don't... really mind. Criticism is a necessary part of life.