[003] video | un: lyreplayer

[themuseabandonsyou]

[ It's early November when Orpheus posts to the network again, this time sitting cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom with his guitar in his lap and the Omni propped up in front of him. The camera catches him leaning back after having set it to broadcast, and he waves as the recording starts. ]

Hi, everyone! I'm Orpheus, and, I thought of something that might be nice for us to do together? I know we're all busy building new lives here, but I don't think that means we have to forget the places we came from completely, or leave those memories behind. Unless you want to? That's fair too.

[ He pauses briefly, looking thoughtful and a little solemn as he considers that, before shaking his head and getting himself back on track.]

But! In my experience a big part of any place a person calls home is the stories that people tell there and the songs they sing, and it seems like it might be nice to share those with each other, as a way of giving each other a glimpse into where we came from, and of preserving them for the future. It can be anything you want to tell us about, whether it's a piece of history or a legend or a song or even a nursery rhyme you like. You don't have to share anything if you don't want to, of course, but I'd really love to hear anything and everything people are willing to add.

[ OOC: This is a mingle post! Please feel free to comment on other peoples' additions and otherwise tag around. ]

Comments

video; un: Dr. Disraeli

[delilahs_death]

I can share, but all of my songs and rhymes are macabre. They all seemed to end in blood or misery.

[And sometimes had actual murders based on them, because his world was like that.]

video | un: lyreplayer

[themuseabandonsyou]

Oh. Well, I wouldn't want you to be left out just because of that, if you still want to share. After all, the story I had to tell didn't exactly have the happiest ending, either.

[ Not to mention some of the others. Maul. ]

[delilahs_death]

Fair enough, I suppose. Let me think...

[There's a number of rather macabre ones, and he pauses to think. Eventually, he settles on one, reciting:]

Who killed Cock Robin?
I, said the Sparrow,
with my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin.

Who saw him die?
I, said the Fly,
with my little teeny eye,
I saw him die.

Who caught his blood?
I, said the Duck,
it was just my luck,
I caught his blood.

Who'll make the shroud?
I, said the Beetle,
with my thread and needle,
I'll make the shroud.

Who'll dig his grave?
I, said the Owl,
with my pick and trowel,
I'll dig his grave.

Who'll be chief mourner?
I, said the Dove,
I mourn for my love,
I'll be chief mourner.

While the cruel Cock Sparrow,
The cause of their grief,
Was hung on a gibbet
Next day, like a thief.

[themuseabandonsyou]

[ Orpheus regards the rhyme thoughtfully, fidgeting with his bandana. When Jezebel finishes, he says; ]

That is sort of macabre? It's got a clever rhyming scheme though. This was a nursery rhyme, then?

[ He doesn't sound like he'd be surprised by that. Kids love dark stuff, especially when they can secret it away from adults. He never quite understood that impulse, even as a kid himself, but he remembers his fair share of playground songs that the other children had twisted this way and that for their own amusement. ]

[delilahs_death]

It is indeed. A number of our rhymes for children are rather gruesome -- some are about plague, or maiming, or executions. All happily sung by children in their playpens and often taught while sitting on their parent's knees.

[Humming to himself:]

Here comes a candle
To light you to bed
And here comes a chopper
To chop off your head

cw: historical pandemic talk

[themuseabandonsyou]

I wonder why that is? That's true about some of the ones from my old home, too. Like, um, after this really serious and really long-lasting flu season where a lot of people died, there was -

[ Sing-song, he recites a jump-rope rhyme he remembers from his own school days; ]

I had a little bird
Its name was Enza
I opened up the window
And in-flu-enza

I guess some kids just really like learning about things they think are grown-up subjects? And sharing them with each other.

[delilahs_death]

Perhaps so. Adults are fascinated by the grim and macabre, so it may simply be that children are as well. It is all too human to stare death in the face, and all too human to make jest of it so that we may handle it more easily.

Besides, children see all sorts of disease and death, even with parents trying to protect them. The world decays all around us, even when we are young.

[themuseabandonsyou]

Right. I've never - I don't really understand, making light of that kind of thing, but I know it's how a lot of people feel most comfortable talking about it. I guess it's just a big subject, to try to face in seriousness? This ultimate and most permanent departure from everything you've ever known.

Though I guess it's not so permanent for us, here, or back in the dream.

[delilahs_death]

Mm, that it is. And it is something both inevitable and uncontrollable -- we all know it is coming, yet very rarely do we have any say in when or how. It simply comes when it does.

Best to face it however we're able, I suppose, in jest or with straight faces.

But you do make a good point about its permanence. I was dead before I came to Deerington, and yet I keep being handed new chances.

[themuseabandonsyou]

[ Orpheus nods. ]

It's not something I take for granted. The way death worked in the dream, and the way it works here, apparently. But - it's kind of funny? The way that returning to the sea here is sort of more like death than actually dying seems to be. In its unpredictability, like you said, and the way it separates us.