paladinlost | 24th moon [video]

[The room is dark, as befitting the middle of the night. The soft sounds of sleeping Pokémon can be heard, undisturbed. A shadow that appears to be an Eevee can be seen sleeping on a pillow at the head of the bed. Cecil is in the middle of it, sitting up, his skin so pale it almost glows. The sheets around him are rumpled, twisted by an uneasy sleep. He looks tired, but does not sleep.]

I dreamed. I dreamed of them. I miss them all, I think. Even those who are waiting for me. Even those who came here but left. Even those we've forgotten. I hope they do not think badly of us because of it. I'll try to remember their names, next time.

[He sounds lost, somehow. Perhaps lost within a dream. Perhaps lost within a memory. But he soon shakes his head.]

So many opportunities, yet I've never asked. About any of it, Conflict and home both. Well, he never volunteered the information either. All that talk of foolishness and crystals and plans, but he never bothered...

[He interrupts himself.]

I apologize. I appear to be overly sentimental tonight. The exact date matters little in the end. I should simply choose one and be done with it, after all these years.

[He reaches out and closes the Pokégear.

Not that he'll sleep for the rest of the night.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[What is sleep?]

It sounds like there's a lot on your mind.

There must be, for me to be so unable to sleep.

Homesickness?

Perhaps the equivalent of it for worlds you've only visited. The rest of it was not quite associated directly to the world.

[He hums.] We have a word for 'wanting to get back to where we came from' but not a word for 'wanting to get back to the people we care about'.

Funny, the way language works.

Yet it would certainly be one of the most beloved words in the world, especially to poets. They can write whole epics to describe the feeling, but the word is simply not there.

But might as well. If someone does coin a term for that, we'll be putting a lot hard-working of poets out of their jobs.

I think it goes without saying that it's the things we can't say that are the most meaningful.

The one hard-working poet I know would certainly merely move on to different subjects, if that were the case.

[A short laugh that does not sound particularly happy.]

I suppose that would make what I have to say to them the pinnacle of meaning, then.

And you're thinking of those words, even now.

[He exhales.] You know, some people believe that all words become lies, when they're said in to the open air.

If that is true, communicating our feelings has suddenly become much harder than it should be.

It doesn't have to be. What do you think happens when a person closes their eyes?

They do not see...?

Not with their eyes. But it leaves room for them to see with something else.

Even hearts and souls cannot see everything, sadly.

But they see enough of the essential things to make it memorable.

Unless something is blinding them, and keeping them from seeing the whole picture.

[Which brings him back to his original musings.]

[A pause.] Sometimes, by trying to focus on the larger picture we end up neglecting the details.

...Those few details I've seen are nice, gentle. But even they are few and scattered, with barely anything holding them together.

24th moon [video]

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