chirpchirp | ♪3 written

Entry tags:

♪3 written | action

[it's been learning and it has learned how to do one very important thing. the traveler draws an image on the journal for everyone to see since it seems appropriate, what with how everyone is acting.]

♥

[Action]

[since it can only answer the journal by stepping on it, the traveler is going to be out and following after people it thinks is interesting.

which is pretty much everyone in the village. it's curious as to why suddenly everyone is trying to find Others with such vehemence, so when it sees someone, it will run after them to follow them. maybe they can give it a clue as to what is going on.]

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[ She smoothly strides beside the traveler toward the welcome center; she hasn't visited it very often since she's arrive, but she knows that it is not entirely hard to find. After all, navigating Luceti's village is nothing like navigating the streets of NYC from back home.

They promptly reach the area as she slowly leads him toward the building, taking a moment to glance at it, before they reach the confines of the memorial garden. ]

You seem to enjoy flowers. [ She stands still as she motions toward the brilliant color of plants that have seemingly survived the winter, but nonetheless do not look as barren as a northeastern garden would, littered over memorials of past inhabitants and ones who have yet to — or perhaps never may — arrive. ]

....

[colours. the entire place is awash in colours that stand out from the pale background. it had only ever seen one flower in its life before coming here, and it always tried to find it in the desert on every reincarnation. coming here, it found that flowers were sometimes kept in buildings and sometimes in little pots like what Marita has, but it has never seen them growing like this.

free.

the traveler stops and looks at the scene, then looks up at Marita. is it alright to be here?]

♩?

[ She points to the names etched it stone — all unrecognizable to her — hidden amongst the flowers. ]

From what I can gather, this is a memorial garden. Flowers are either a token of love and friendship or of grief and remembrance. [ She remembers when the Cancer Man brought her flowers, as if it were some condolence after all her put her through — to figure, no one would ever mourn for a pawn like her — but she pushes away the memory as if it were nothing but a fly buzzing around. ] The flowers here seem to be for those who have either arrived to Luceti and have left, or those who are still in their world from home and have not yet been taken by the Malnosso.

[it doesn't quite understand, but Marita's solemn demeanour tells the traveler it can't run and roll around in here. good to know. it looks back to the garden full of flowers, some waving gently in the breeze, and wonders if all worlds look like this. it also makes it wonder what went wrong with its world that all the flowers died save for one.

it walks forward to the first bloom it can see and leans down, nuzzling its petals. soft, alive, but so cold. the traveler looks to Marita and then gives a small shout, sending out a wave of energy. the bubble washes over the flower and it seems to perk up, but it cannot give energy back like the flower in the desert.

the traveler turns to Marita, confused. words cannot tell it what it needs to know and there are no pictures here to give it a story.]

♩♩？

[ Silently, she watches the traveler, her expression unchanging. Marita's dealt with alien viruses wreaking havoc on her immune system, she's seen faceless alien rebels, witnessed the first alien-human hybrid, she's seen the most beautiful parts of Russia and the most broken, but nothing has been as interesting to her as this seemingly peaceful creature who communicates in song to objects both human and inhuman.

She sits on a bench and places the potted orchid beside her, then rests her hands in her lap. ]

I'm not quite sure I entirely understand. [ She pauses and recognizes the vitality of her orchid compared to a handful of the wilted flowers in the garden. ] Not many plants tend to live throughout winter, due to the freezing temperatures... the cold soil freezes the roots and the flowers themselves wilt and die, but they always return once there is warmer weather.

[ She motions to a patch of green stems rising from the ground, the flowers buds not yet growing. She is not a botanist by any means, but she seems to have a fondness for flowers and gardens regardless. ] Daffodils are fairly common, but the flowers don't bloom until early March. Whereas some plants may not bloom until early or late summer.

[it tilts its head at her again, knowing that her words mean something, but unable to comprehend what that is. it isn't until she motions to the growing stalks that it turns away and finds that it has never seen this before.

the traveler goes over to the growing stems and leans in towards them. they're alive; it can tell that much, but what are they? small green baby trees? will they turn into the big brown things with fluffy green tops that it sees everywhere? or are they just bigger, thicker versions of the soft green fluff on the ground?

it looks to Marita and chirps curiously.]

♩♪?

[ Thankfully, her career as a diplomat has told her that even though the translation of words become mixed, there is always a way to communicate regardless. She seems to effortlessly move on with dialogue, as if she were speaking to co-worker or passenger on the train. ]

It takes some time... but they eventually bloom. [ She refers to the orchid, pointing at the stem, then gradually reaching the flower itself. ] Into a flower.

[...?

it looks back at the stems in the ground and flops over next to them to get its face as close to the stalk as it can. the stalks turn into flowers. okay! it can do this!!!]

♪！

[ Marita blinks morosely watching the creature flop onto the ground to, what she assumes, chirp at the newly growing stalks. She doesn't seem all that entirely confused about it, but wonders what it must look like to an outsider. ]

They usually take awhile to fully bloom... depending on how early or late into the season it is.

♩♬♩～

[the traveler twitters a little more, but the stalks don't seem to be growing or lighting up. it climbs to its feet and looks down at them, then at Marita, and back to the flower stalks.

then it throws its head back and lets out a loud shrill bell of music, an energy bubble expanding outward and pushing all the snow away from its feet and thus the flowers. at the apex of the bubble a rune appears, and as the energy dissipates, so does the rune.]

♩!

[ Marita looks around, wondering if the aria has gained any attention from others passing by, but it seems that it's just the two of them in this garden currently. It's voice seems to have a sort of gentle power to it's surroundings, one she does not understand entirely.

She looks from the dissipated snow, to the flowers, to the traveler. ]

Those symbols— [ She motions above the traveler's head where the rune was moments before. ] —what do they signify?

♬♩？

[the symbols pop up with each twitter of music and the traveler looks up.

yes. the runes. they are what it is. they are what everything is in its world. the creature looks back to Marita and then walks over to the snow. using its foot, it starts drawing a multitude of symbols in the snow.

it moves to the one that was above its head and stops, pipping]

♩

[ Marita does not move from her spot at first, watching the creature recreate the symbols — ones she has seen and ones that she has not — before she arises from her spot on the bench. Her eyes travel across the strange patterns, alien in their ways, and falls to the one that the traveler is motioning to: the one that was seen moments before. ]

Do these translate into the sounds you make...? [ She pauses for a moment, possibly pondering a way to explain this clearer due to the language barrier. Marita points at the runes, then to her mouth.

Then, she crouches down to write something in the snow with her finger: 'flower.' She points to the word, then back to her mouth. ] Flower.

[it watches as she writes her own runes in the snow, then follows her finger to the sound she makes.

it looks back down and walks over, tapping the word. Flower.

what is flower? it looks up to her and tilts its head.]

[ She points to the word, then to the orchid sitting on the bench not far from where they stand. ]

Flower. [ The way she uses the word is almost a sort of sign itself; she elongates the o and shortens the w, as if the word itself holds some sort of power. ]

[.....

!! the traveler runs over to the word "Flower" and taps it, then looks to Marita and then to the orchid.

flower.

it's called a flower!!]

♩♪

[it mimics the sound in chimes and string instruments, then turns in a circle before going back to its rune. it stands next to it and chirps, the rune beside it appears over its head and it chirps again]

♩

♩

[ Marita is enthralled by it's excitement and listens to it repeat the word in it's own language; she wonders if it's capable in learning the distinguished names between flowers. Situating herself, she heads over to the slightly barren forsythia plant where the buds of flowers have yet to bloom.

Leaning down to write in the snow once more, she spells the word 'forsythia'. ] They're called flowers, but each of them have distinguished names... [ She stands out, smoothing out her skirt, and motions to the large mangle of branches that will soon bloom once Luceti becomes warmer. ] These are forsythia.

[UMMMMMM

it looks at the branches of the bush and then to the word. it can't figure out which sound she is trying to teach it with the jumble of different words coming out of her mouth. it tilts its head and then runs to a different bush, one that definitely isn't forsythia and chirps.

yes! it found one too~]

♩♬♩~

[ It seems confused, but she supposes while "flowers" are universal, that the types of flowers where the traveler must be from are quite different. She calmly shakes her head. ]

That's a different kind of flower. I'm not sure which kind, though... [ She walks back over to the bench where the orchid is sitting, she motions to it. ] This is an orchid.

[ Then, she motions to the forsythia again. ] It's dissimilar to the forsythia.

[...? the traveler doesn't understand, but it sees the shake of her head and runs to a different bush - a juniper. it stands next to this one and chirps. is this correct?]

[ Marita shakes her head once again, mulling over a way to express this more simply. ]

Different. [ She looks around her for guidance, but finding none, she motions for the traveler to come over to where she's standing. ]

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