The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

[worthallthis]

There is no voice message here. Better hope you got the right box.

Comments

[worthallthis]

I mean, there's a system of grounding that's specifically looking for different sensations. List out a number of things you can see, things you can hear, things you can smell, things you can touch. It's meant to pull you out of whatever sensation you're stuck in by reorienting you on the real world, I guess.

The reason soft things work for me is the association. I like them. They feel safe and comforting. They remind me of my friends and my room. It could be that it'll only work for you as something you use to distract yourself. It could be it won't work for you, at all.

But soft stuff seems kind of universally comforting, from what I've
seen. So it's worth a shot, you know?

[cactusy]

[There's a several minutes' long pause here.]

This friend of mine from home had a leather jacket she wore a lot.

[worthallthis]

[B goes back to playing softly while he waits, figuring even if she winds up not answering again, the music might be nice to listen to. One of the quieter pieces, looped through again when the silence continues on.

When she answers, he brings the piece smoothly to an end.]

Then it's a good thing to start with. Especially if she's somebody you felt safe with.

[cactusy]

Mmmmm.

[She sighs, and shifts; there's a rustling sound as she sits up.]

I guess it's something to think about. I can look in the... wardrobe, or whatever.

Did I wake you up?

[worthallthis]

Nah. I was up, playing.

[He lays down another couple chords in demonstration.]

Now that I got my warden key back I can come in here late at night when I'm feeling restless.

[cactusy]

You're pretty good. I... think; I don't know anything about music.

[worthallthis]

My warden suggested it, ages ago. Well. She suggested the guitar, but metal fingers don't work so well for that. I honestly thought she was crazy until I tried it.

I've been practicing for almost a decade now. So I know I've at least got these songs down.

[He starts up another quieter piece, she might even recognize this one if she's a 70s fan.]

[cactusy]

[It does sound vaguely familiar, and she lets him play in silence for a while. When he winds down that piece, though--]

I should go. Let you sleep.

[worthallthis]

You know the piano's in the art gazebo, and not my cabin, right?

[He sounds amused.]

I didn't get up and come all the way up here just while we were talking.

But I think I can sleep now, anyway. I got some good playing in. Some good conversation.

[cactusy]

Yeah. Me, too.

[Maybe.]

Night.