HEAD EMPTY ☆ recorder

[michael t.]

ALL I FOUND THE SPACE BETWEEN THE SPACES
STANDING IN THE NOTHING, AND TIME RECLAIMS YOU

Michael's day had started off fairly well. It was like any other, really. He had woken up, headed for the tavern for some breakfast, and then had decided to go for a patrol. The majority of his day was filled with his usual dealer duties, poking around to make sure that nothing bad was going on. He took special effort to greet others as he passed, his sociable nature part of what made him fit his job so well. Overall, he enjoyed his usual daily cycle, and as the afternoon arrived, he decided to head home and take a small nap. Just something to get him through the rest of the day, so that maybe he could host something at the tavern. Maybe a game of cards? That always seemed popular, and he could probably even rope Roan into it... his mind was running free as he approached his home, slipping inside the hut with a hum. When he stepped over the threshold into his room, however, he found himself slipping.

He wasn't sure what had caused him to trip, or slide, but before he knew it he was stumbling and falling forward, his head crashing against the nearby wall. Various objects from the shelf above came scattering down, bouncing off the ground as the dealer groaned in pain. When he was finally able to sit back up and rub at his own head with a paw, he found himself inspecting what other damage had been done. Nothing that had fallen from the shelf seemed to be broken, although... there was something among the wreckage he hadn't seen in quite a while. A recorder. One of the small battery-powered ones, covered in a thin layer of dust and letting out a soft hiss of static. The male tensed up as soon as he saw it, his mismatched gaze going wide as he just sat there for a moment, staring. After a long moment of nothing but silence, an all too familiar voice began to crackle to life through the speakers, "Mikey? What the hell have you got that recording shit out for? You know I hate it when you rec—" The dead man's words weren't allowed to finish, however. Michael went scrambling forward, slamming the stop button of the recorder with a trembling paw.

It took around five minutes before the bobcat was finally able to function again, lifting the recorder into his jaws. With a sigh, he turned and headed out to the porch, sitting down before he let it rest between his paws. He then stared down at the device for a long moment, eventually muttering softly to himself, "Maybe I should just... destroy it." His blue gaze drifted off over the beach, eventually landing on a large rock that sat nearby. It would be perfect to crush the recorder under if necessary. Although... these recordings were the last bits of Trevor that Michael truly had left. Did he really want to just crush them? It would save him the pain of hearing the other's voice again, but it would also deprive him of the opportunity to ever hear his husband's voice again, as well.

With another heavy sigh, the thief just glanced back down at the recorder between his front paws, seemingly at a loss as to what to do. He had hoped that the fresh air would clear his mind and help him make a decision. Unfortunately, it seemed as though even Mother Nature couldn't help him sort this one out.

— Reggan

[daniel]

Danny had missed the event of Trevor's death, the weight of somehow still having a recorder that held the last remaining echo of the late man's voice would have gone over his head. Not that he didn't understand the heavy burden of loss, he was still slowly recovering from the shock of his own loss, even if from an outside perspective it didn't look like much had changed or like it affected him that heavily. It did, just...Danny wasn't too great as expressing his internalized emotions if they weren't fear. He wasn't sure how great he was at offering comfort either, he'd never had to step in and be the one offering support minus the few minutes he gave to Vayne when they first met along the beach, which ended in him promising to fight everyone and anything including Roxanne, which was a terrible idea. Much like Vayne, Danny held admiration for the Dealer and former thief, shedding a little more reservation the more he crossed paths with the bobcat and replacing the lost nervousness with a desire to earn his respect. He wasn't sure why that was the first instinct, perhaps he just liked the way Michael carried himself, an extroverted manner that he himself lacked.

Against his better judgement, Danny had broken out of the temple after insisting to himself that he'd been sitting in there for too long and was getting fidgety because out of it, although much too wary to wander out to the farther ends of the beach that he usually paced around. And by wary he of course meant he absolutely refused. He blocked out the brief looks from those he passed to the best of his ability, feeling his anxious nature coming around to bite him in the ass and force him to regret his decision and reconsider his public stroll, fur prickling along his spine by the time he got around to Michael's front porch. Holding something in his paws and talking about destroying...whatever it was, Danny couldn't see it just yet, not until he actually looked at it directly. "Destroy what?" The Privateer asked innocently, unaware that the recorder within Michael's paws was the source of his current misery. Ah, maybe he had said it quietly on purpose. Danny winced, suddenly realizing that maybe he was intruding on something and should just get the hell out of there. "S-sorry, it's probably, like...like, personal, huh?"

[glow=black,2,300]— ❤ —[/glow]

[Keona.]

[table][tr][td]

keona sibéal ní faoláin.
the typhoon.
the blind dealer.
information.

[/td][td]

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 13px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin

[ retro body change ]

The tiny dealer had known death.  Three years of living among the Typhoon.  Loss happened.  Crewmates passed away.  Meanwhile immortal blood ran through her veins.  She didn't quite age the same.  Seemingly stuck young.  Would she outlive all her friends?

She had yet to lose someone directly close to her.  At least, to death.  Aside from her mother... But she had been so young when that happened.  Haliaka's death did not hurt so much as the loss of someone she knew, but the loss of something she would never have.  A mother.

But over the moons, many of her friends had disappeared.  It did little good for her psyche to wonder where they had gone off to.  Wonder if they were even okay.  Determined to believe that they were, at least, still alive somewhere.  Work kept her mind occupied for the most part.  Stave off the grief of living without goodbyes.  Kept her mind busy.

Her petite paws trotted over the sand.  Initially headed back for the tavern following her own duties.  Michael and Danny's voices caught her on the way.  Unseeing hues flickering towards the sound.  Ears perked in confusion.  Destroy what?

Michael sounded awfully forlorn to her.  "Aloha," she offered softly, head falling lightly to the side.  "Are you okay?"

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© MADI

[michael t.]

ALL I FOUND THE SPACE BETWEEN THE SPACES
STANDING IN THE NOTHING, AND TIME RECLAIMS YOU

For a moment, Michael didn't seem to move or even vaguely shift in response to the questions from both Danny and Keona. The dealer seemed to be entirely zoned out, mismatched gaze focused solely on the recorder between his paws. Eventually, though, he snapped out of it. The wind pressing lightly at his fur made him look up, and he blinked at both Danny and Keona in vague surprise. How long had they been standing there for? He felt a faint rush of heat come to his face beneath his thick fur, but he tried his best to ignore it. Hopefully the pair wouldn't think that he was ignoring them. Pressing his tongue lightly against the roof of his mouth, the bobcat pushed forward the recorder, muttering as he showed it to Danny, "Ah... this. It's a small recorder, meant for recording... well, pretty much whatever you want. I've had it for quite a while now." He knew full well that didn't explain why he wound want to destroy it. Really, he just needed a minute.

Keona's concerned tone made him settle slightly, if only because it stopped the feeling of his heart strangling him that had set in. Taking in a deep breath, he offered his fellow dealer a slightly strained smile, "I'm alright, I promise. I just... this recorder has... old recordings on it. Trev... Trevor's voice. I had honestly forgotten I had it." He was fairly sure that would be enough to explain to Keona why he was upset. As for Danny... well, the canine had arrived after Trevor's passing. It was natural he wouldn't know who Michael was talking about. So, after another deep breath, the thief muttered to Danny, "Trevor... he was my husband. He passed away, a couple of months ago. I hadn't heard his voice in... well, what felt like ages, at least to me." He knew that a couple of months wasn't that long when someone so close to you died, but he still felt a bit ridiculous. Why did the grief still sting so much?

Shaking his head from side to side to try and sort himself out, Michael then explained further, "I was thinking about destroying it. After all, I didn't even remember I had these recordings. And I'm not really sure that it's healthy to keep them around..." He couldn't deny that it was nice, being able to hear Trevor's voice again. However, it was also incredibly painful. And if he managed to recover from his grief more in the future... he didn't want to send himself into a spiral just because he discovered the recorder once more.

— Reggan

[Keona.]

[table][tr][td]

keona sibéal ní faoláin.
the typhoon.
the blind dealer.
information.

[/td][td]

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 13px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin

There's a moment.  The petite falls entirely silent.  Lost somewhere in her thoughts.  Wondering.  Did her father have anything like that... With her mother's voice?  And if he had, had he left it on his ship?  The one he left to his crew when he brought her to the Typhoon.

Materialistic was not a word that well-described Keona.  Her belongings were fairly limited despite the amount of time she had lived on the island.  A stuffed parrot.  A knife.  A necklace.  A pair of sunglasses.  Her collection of braille books.  Every single thing she owned... A gift from family or friends.  Would they hurt... If their giver went away?  Hushsound had handcrafted her that knife... But she still cherished it.  Perhaps more, in his absence, because it was all she had.

If something hurt... Keona furrowed her brow.  Truthfully, she didn't know what to advise Michael to do.  If she had a recording... Of her mother's voice... She breathed out softly, shaking her head.  "If you destroy it... It's gone.  You can't un-do that."

"You'll lose that piece of him, forever." Maybe that was... Blunt.  Seas.  Keona flicked her ears back.  "I think you should find a safe place for it.  Out of the way, for a while.  That way if, one day, you want to remember, it'll still be there for you."

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© MADI