aj_crawley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aj_crawley) wrote2006-08-27 04:58 am
aj_crawley) wrote2006-08-27 04:58 am
(no subject)
There's a box waiting for Serenity at the next mail-drop; the only surprise might be if anyone was surprised. It's addressed to one Kaylee Tam. And it's bloody heavy.
On top, nestled amongst the uppermost layers of padding, a small voice recording.
Inside the box, several data-sticks of music, spanning much of the past seven hundred years - though it thins out a little around the late 22nd century, before filling out again. But that's alright; much of the music from that period is a single extended lament, and so not exactly sick-bed listening material.
The books take up rather more space - several large hard-copy tomes fill the bottom of the box. What would once have been Western mythology was rather covered, and Crowley assumes a knowledge of the Chinese. So here, some collections of stories from Elsewhere, and heroes of Long Ago; Anansi-Tori and Ivan Tsarevich, Cú Chulainn and Kekrops, Dimna and Bunjil, Gilgamesh and Miro, Vainamoinen and Saynday.
Not all of the books are hard-copy; some are chips, needing only a slate of blank digital paper. And a very few look to be audio-books, though perhaps they're not books per se. These are the older stories, the ones it's harder to find written down anymore - perhaps because they were never meant to be in the first place.
The speaker sounds a little familiar.
And he even does the voices.
On top, nestled amongst the uppermost layers of padding, a small voice recording.
Slight static.
Wèi. It's, uh. Me.
Long pause.
I know this seems kind of a weird way to be doing this, but... I wasn't sure a wave would be the most, er, diplomatic way of getting in touch. What with me probably being really popular on board, right now, and all. No need for more upset. Plus, a quiet snort of laughter, - and Aziraphael'd be so proud - I've gotten quite good at fuelling my own yúbèn de guilt trips.
So, uh. I'd ask you how you're feeling, only you can't exactly answer, so I 'spose I'll just say I hope you're doing okay, and leave it at that.
Another silence.
I been... laid up before, and I know you remember at least one of those occasions. And it - well, I don't know if. It was bad for other reasons, and I don't know that I ever said thank you. And I know that it can be -
Anyway, I got - a clacking sound in the background, - an assortment of diversions, so lying around doesn't get so tāmāde boring. A few things to sort of... carry the theme from last time, and a few I thought just looked interesting. And some music, for, you know, just zoning out, when you want to. Aziraphael'll tell you half of this is tripe, but don't listen to him, he doesn't know what he's talking about. He probably secretly listens to Sulk Rock or something.
Okay, that's a lie, but anyway.
Static again - louder, then fading away.
If I'm counting right, you guys are headed inwards for some decent hospitals. Imagine Simon'll be able to make some good contacts, now that he's all... legal, and whatnot, but - well, you know the usual. If there's anything you need done, and if people are of a mind to, let me know.
Uh.
Tell River I said hi, and she can borrow some of these if she wants. And I can't get the limerick off the sole of my shoe. People keep kind of trying to bend over and squint at it when I'm walking, and - I think they think it's some kind of ultra-obscure brand name or something.
Anyway. I, uh.
Zài-jiàn.
More static, a long moment of whispery silence - then a sound like an indrawn breath, about to form words.
Click.
Wèi. It's, uh. Me.
Long pause.
I know this seems kind of a weird way to be doing this, but... I wasn't sure a wave would be the most, er, diplomatic way of getting in touch. What with me probably being really popular on board, right now, and all. No need for more upset. Plus, a quiet snort of laughter, - and Aziraphael'd be so proud - I've gotten quite good at fuelling my own yúbèn de guilt trips.
So, uh. I'd ask you how you're feeling, only you can't exactly answer, so I 'spose I'll just say I hope you're doing okay, and leave it at that.
Another silence.
I been... laid up before, and I know you remember at least one of those occasions. And it - well, I don't know if. It was bad for other reasons, and I don't know that I ever said thank you. And I know that it can be -
Anyway, I got - a clacking sound in the background, - an assortment of diversions, so lying around doesn't get so tāmāde boring. A few things to sort of... carry the theme from last time, and a few I thought just looked interesting. And some music, for, you know, just zoning out, when you want to. Aziraphael'll tell you half of this is tripe, but don't listen to him, he doesn't know what he's talking about. He probably secretly listens to Sulk Rock or something.
Okay, that's a lie, but anyway.
Static again - louder, then fading away.
If I'm counting right, you guys are headed inwards for some decent hospitals. Imagine Simon'll be able to make some good contacts, now that he's all... legal, and whatnot, but - well, you know the usual. If there's anything you need done, and if people are of a mind to, let me know.
Uh.
Tell River I said hi, and she can borrow some of these if she wants. And I can't get the limerick off the sole of my shoe. People keep kind of trying to bend over and squint at it when I'm walking, and - I think they think it's some kind of ultra-obscure brand name or something.
Anyway. I, uh.
Zài-jiàn.
More static, a long moment of whispery silence - then a sound like an indrawn breath, about to form words.
Click.
Inside the box, several data-sticks of music, spanning much of the past seven hundred years - though it thins out a little around the late 22nd century, before filling out again. But that's alright; much of the music from that period is a single extended lament, and so not exactly sick-bed listening material.
The books take up rather more space - several large hard-copy tomes fill the bottom of the box. What would once have been Western mythology was rather covered, and Crowley assumes a knowledge of the Chinese. So here, some collections of stories from Elsewhere, and heroes of Long Ago; Anansi-Tori and Ivan Tsarevich, Cú Chulainn and Kekrops, Dimna and Bunjil, Gilgamesh and Miro, Vainamoinen and Saynday.
Not all of the books are hard-copy; some are chips, needing only a slate of blank digital paper. And a very few look to be audio-books, though perhaps they're not books per se. These are the older stories, the ones it's harder to find written down anymore - perhaps because they were never meant to be in the first place.
The speaker sounds a little familiar.
And he even does the voices.