dissonates | [Voice]

[Silence.

There's too much of it. It burns into his mind, the echo of emptiness in the corner of it, that ache he can't seem to brush aside no matter how he tries to distract himself. He's tried going outside, he's tried burying himself in that braille stuff Xion gave him, he's tried striking up conversations with his housemates (even the animals), but he runs out of things to say far too quickly and in the back of his mind it's always there. The silence, the echo. The fact that something is missing.

Dead.

And then he's had enough.

The journal's camera is partially obscured when the feed flickers on, and what it does show is his face - eyes, a flash of red hair, his bangs down - just enough to make it seem like he's not quite himself. His voice, too, is softened; it's not as open and friendly as Luke would have been when greeting the village, but it lacks the usual anger or pent-up frustrations of the socially-awkward soldier. If anything it sounds... hushed, weary, tinged with a bit of desperation. He needs this. Whether or not he wants to do it is irrelevant.

It hurts. The silence hurts, more than last time when Luke had been sent home, and he honestly hadn't thought it would.]

Tell me about your day. Tell me a story. Talk about anything. Today I'm listening.

[He might not care. He might not be nice about it. He might not even remember it later. But he'll listen.

He just needs to hear something, so he can forget about the nothing in his head for a while.]

((Asch is blind, so all tags must be voice/action or he cannot respond to them!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It was the offer of an ear via the journals rather than a voice that caught Lupin's attention as he lay sprawled out on the floor of his apartment to fight off another bout of the spins. It was sunny and hot, a refreshing change from the storm a few weeks back, but one that left Lupin wondering why he just felt bad that day. There was rain a couple of days ago. It must have been that.

Opening every single window in his apartment and propping the door open wide provided no relief, but only let the heat enter along with the cross breeze. He would get up to fix that problem, but for now...]

Have you ever had a goal that was utterly wrecked by everything else happening in life?

[There's a question that was unexpected, particularly since it feels like a dig at his own life more than anything. Which is impossible, of course, because he doesn't even know this man. He'll just attempt to bury whatever anger the comment stirs up and answer vaguely, then.]

I doubt you'd find a person alive who hasn't had that happen to them.

[He doesn't even care enough about the man on the other end right now to bother looking at the name, although he will at a later point. The melancholy inherent to the tone bugs him enough to incite curiosity.]

Figured as much. It doesn't normally happen to me is the thing...and it was supposed to be a fun plan, if you catch my drift.

[Fun? And here he thought it was something important.]

Some goals are worth seeking out regardless of what life throws at you. If it's just for something as indulgent as "fun", though, shouldn't that be easy to put off?

Not really. Fun can be important too.

[He pauses, wondering about how much he could explain over the journals.]

Imagine a world where nothing can be relied upon, including memories and even time. A culture, a people, can try to live and thrive there...but, in the end, it becomes a matter of only surviving. But just because a culture has survived doesn't mean that it has lived.

Without dreams, without hope, there isn't much that the people can look forward to. What keeps them going?

[Well, speaking as one who's learned to live without indulgences such as dreams, hope, or fun-]

Goals, I suppose.

[An over-simplified answer, maybe, but it's the best he can offer right now. He's lost the ability to empathize with people who just want to stir the pot a bit.]

Aaaaahhhh~ But what's a goal without a dream?

[He laughs softly, amused by how stern this man was.]

No, you first find a way to give them back their dreams, and then the culture can start to do a little more than just survive.]

[He's also a delightful pessimist.]

Tch... dreams are just goals you can never accomplish.

Nah. Dreams give you something to hope for, and nothing can really survive without hope.

People can survive under plenty of extreme conditions. Hope isn't as necessary as you think.

[He knows that all too well, thank you very much.]

And that, my friend, is my point. That's just surviving, not thriving.

You need hope to have anything that's really worthwhile in any world.

Some of us don't have that sort of luxury.

...More's the pity, then. There's still no shame in trying.

There is if you fail.

That's why you don't worry about it--worrying defeats the purpose of having something to hope for.

Not everyone can live such a carefree existence as that.

It's just for something else to focus on, so people don't have to worry all the time. That kind of stress isn't healthy, and everyone deserves a chance at it.

Assuming you're giving the other people involved a chance to decide for themselves.

Of course--but life is better if you have something to look forward to.

[And then he's reminded of the past again- because yeah, even he had something to look forward to, once.

Keyword being had. And the topic is making him uncomfortable again.]

...I guess.

[He caught the drop in tone, and changed gears.]

...It's just food for thought, really. This cycle's been rough on a lot of people, and it sounded like you're among them. Not saying that you have to do anything...just think about it.

...Are you actually suggesting that I need to have fun?

[Because just. What. What.]

I'm just telling you to think about it.

[sheesh.]

[ 8| ]

Fine, I'll think about it, then.

[No he won't.]

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