queenoflogs | it was crazy [open]

Characters: Jill Half-a-Prayer and whoever finds her
Date: January 19th, afternoon
Summary: Jill's still adjusting to being alive again, near the center of the Gardens. Interact with her?
Warnings: None I can think of.

Jill still didn't know what to think of this Gardens, or the voices that she heard speak to her when she had spoken to them. She had watched the video logs, read the written words, and still felt as mystified as ever. This Queen, she had yet to show her face, and the people felt caged. It was the leader's duty to take those concerns and form them towards the better, and none of that happened. Again, power led to abuse. Yet there was a thin line of hope, if she was simply confused. Mad people were easier to work with than pompous ones.

She stretched out beneath the tree, looking over at the claw. She could still remember the pain of having it chopped off, no anesthetic for a criminal. The way they whipped her in public, the people silent in respect. The gunshot sound. Yet she breathed. She felt no scars on her back. Whatever had pulled her from the brink of death had also taken the courtesy of healing her wounds. And they'd given a nod to her self-image; if the claw had been replaced with an arm, she doubted she could have used it anymore. It was too much part of herself.

Shutting her eyes, she took long deep breaths, which turned into humming, then soft singing. Was she...happy? No. But calm.

"...So Cally flew high/On umbrella wings/Kissed his love good-bye/Sailed into the sky/And flew into the land of Horrible Things..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Jill." She nodded back.

"Why do people sing? Is it just because it sounds nice? Or is there another reason?"

"It depends on the people," she answered slowly, thinking back to the many times she heard people sing. "To express emotion's pretty common, a way of translating your thoughts to song. Others sing to while away time while they work-a lot of songs of a country normally come from its workers and the songs they sing to give themselves motivation. Still others sing because that's what they really want to do with their lives, perform and such. And then there's just singing because you feel like doing it, without a reason clear cut in your mind."

Xion listened with fascination, her posture and mouth showing it though her face was still obscured. Nobodies never did these kinds of things...probably because it sounded more and more like "singing" was connected to emotion. At the same time it made her feel small. There was so much to learn, so much she still didn't understand about the world, how people lived. It was exciting and frightening.

"I think I understand now. Thank you."

She shifted a bit, hesitating again, before asking:

"Do you think I could learn how?"

She nodded. "You've got a voice, there's no reason you couldn't. Pick a song you like, and then just try to imitate the sounds. Even if you can't get the key exactly, it'll be fine." Jill shrugged. "Mind if I ask your name?"

"I'm Xion." There was a hint of timid embarrassment in her already quiet voice; the soft "sh" sound of that first syllable of her name almost lost. She'd started to pick up that people considered it rude if you didn't introduce yourself right away. But this woman didn't seem upset, at least. And she was answering all the questions patiently.

"Xion", she repeated, nodding again. Xion wore a black cloak. She didn't think it was rude, if she hadn't remembered she would have gone the whole conversation without introducing herself. She could ask as many questions as she wanted, Jill had time.

Just imitate the sounds. She could do that. She thought of what the red-haired girl--Giselle--had sang, but she couldn't remember all of it. Maybe she could ask the next time she saw her.

But something Jill had just said sounded familiar. She sat up a bit.

"What do you mean by 'key'?"

"The key is the pitch of the song. There's lots of them, you could sing it higher or lower depending on how you choose. They call it a key after a piano, I guess."

She absorbs this new information eagerly as always. If there's one thing that makes her happy besides ice cream, it's learning new things. She's burning to pester Jill with more questions--what's a piano? She's imagining a ring full of actual metal keys, which is a bit far from reality.

She digs in her pocket, and pulls one out--golden, about the length of her palm, the teeth in the shape of a crown, the top a filigreed heart.

"Like this?"

Jill almost smiles at that, taking in the intricate key. It's beautiful, unlike any key she's ever seen, but not the key she's talking about.

"That's definitely one type of key..." she acknowledged. "Wonder what it unlocks."

"I didn't know there were different kinds." She turns it over in her fingers. "It was supposed to be a sign that my best friend was safe. I guess it turned out to be true."

"There's several. Pitches, keys for unlocking things, a key as in something to help you understand...strange how a few letters have so much meaning on them." She nodded. "I bet they're looking for you."

She had no idea the word had so many meanings, but somehow they fit. She nods in agreement.

"They found their way here somehow. Or the Queen brought them--I'm not sure. But either way, I'm just grateful to be able to see them again."

A small smile appeared on her face, only half reaching her eyes. "Then you're one of the lucky ones. Maybe with your friend you'll find the way out of here."

She hesitantly mirrors that smile, but it's a bit too tired-looking for such a small girl.

"That would be nice. But I won't get my hopes up...I'll be happy if I can just help them get home."

"I'm sure if you can get them home, you can get home as well."

She's quiet for a moment, before her voice takes on a wistful tone.

"I don't really have anywhere to go back to, so...I'll probably stay here."

it was crazy [open]

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