corrinesbell | 131. Null

[Thursday morning, Sheena gets up.

It doesn't take long to make the decision to go to the tea shop, carrying the journal in her right hand, even though it's sort of early. But early is the point, isn't it? It's a pretty dark morning, with low and heavy gray clouds. Maybe it's going to rain.

Minutes after she arrives at the tea shop, there will be a sign on the Welcome Center door.

Tea Shop Closed Today

She stays inside for a while, making some attempt at cleaning and organizing the back room. It's a terrible attempt; she's not even there for an hour before leaving, headed back to the house.

The empty house.

Her empty left hand touches the doorknob, jerks away as though shocked, and drops back to her side. The rest of the morning, she spends sitting on her front steps, doodling and writing words, then scratching the words out, on the journal pages. There is one word that is written more than once, filling in spaces between the rough images]

real?

[It's after lunch when she decides enough is enough, snapping the journal closed. Sheena rises from the steps to turn and walk away, toward the barracks - and the thing that will take her to the beach.]

[[ooc: She'll respond to written replies (or voiced ones if you're mad about the shop closing!) and, of course, to actions~]]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Reality is what the mind makes of it.

If you believe it to be real, it is. The human mind is such that they cannot disbelieve what they see, however, save through blatant delusion.

What you see can be wrong.

And yet part of you wants to believe it because your eyes are not supposed to betray you.

[She has an inkling of what is troubling this girl, so after a few minutes, she adds..]

Is the soul less real than the body because it cannot be seen?

[Sheena's lifestyle has taught her that eyes can betray you all the time.]

No.

Is it something static, something that cannot reach over infinite distance?

[Maybe you can see where she's leading this.]

[The barracks happens to be in his back yard. So when Sheena comes on walking down the road, Sokka just happens to be outside, cleaning out the nest box for Hawky, while said bird screeches at him overhead for messing with his own home. Sokka is on the ground scrubbing the insides clean when he looks up to see Sheena passing by.]

Hey Sheena. On your way to train?

Why don't you just tell me what you wanna say?

[Not in the mood today, Yukari. Sorry.]

People only leave if you feel they are gone.

Even if they are physically absent, every soul touches one another and forms a bond that no distance can break, barrier and Malnosso be damned.

[She hasn't lost anybody she cares about yet, but... she knows it's coming. Sooner or later.]

Maybe I feel like that then.

[in the stiffest and darkest ink. She doesn't want to be comforted or reassured, not yet.]

[Gotta admit, she does stop to stare at him cleaning this box. But her expression doesn't change from what might best be described as irritated boredom.]

No.

[It takes a moment for her to process the forcefulness of the writing, why it suddenly went more.. rigid.]

I see.

[Damn it. Why does she want to help this girl? She's usually not THIS compassionate towards humans.]

Rather unfair, then, those who cause this to happen.

[Not that she expects a reply.]

The ocean then? Watch your step in the teleporter. Someone spilled something in there and hasn't bothered to clean it up. [And he refuses to do it until the guilty party comes forward to do it themselves.]

If you noticed it, do something about it.

[Promise she's not mad at you, Sokka.]

...What're you doing?

Hey, hey. If I clean it this time, that person will just keep doing it! [As for her other question, he points up into the trees at the screeching hawk.] I'm cleaning his house. It's going to get too cold for him to stay outside before long. So I need to be ready to move him.

You won't wipe up a spill in the teleporter but you'll scrub that thing?

[Nothing against Hawky. Hawks are cool.]

Whoever made that spill can clean it up them self! Hawky, however, doesn't have opposable thumbs. So I gotta help him out. [It's not Hawky's fault he wasn't born with hands, you know!]

[It's not something Sheena feels like trying to explain, particularly to a near-stranger. It's a while before she gives any kind of answer at all. Unlike the last one, this one looks like she barely touched the pen to the page at all.]

It's never been fair anyway.

I'm sorry.

[The almost mechanical precision in the letters makes the statement seem less sincere, more forced... but perhaps that's just reading too much into things.]

[There is no written equivalent to a shrug.]

You're just trying to help.

So without you around he'd hire a maid or something?

[other than looking juuuuust a bit more...hard-edged...her expression still hasn't changed.]

No. He'd probably just go wild. [Try and join us in the real world, Sheena! Though usually Sheena isn't quite THIS... unenthusiastic around.]

That's what I mean. He'd clean it himself.

[She's juts not feeling the argument. The goal is to get to the beach where, with any luck, no one else will be. The weather and air temperature don't really promote that.]

Real?

[Yuan has no clue what to make of this entry.]

[It's not really an "entry," just a bunch of shapes and scratchings-out. Sheena has barely-average penmanship on the best of days, but today it's just stiff]

Opposite of made-up.

[Anything written in the journal and broadcast is an entry, in Yuan's opinion. Even if it's just... assorted words and scribblings.]

I know that much. Is there any particular reason you're writing this in your jounal? [He'd tone down his attitude if he knew what was going on, but he's absolutely clueless.]

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