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Seventh Jiggy | [Action/Voice] | Backdated to May 15, fff
[Action | Early in the day]
[It was cloudy and overcast when Kazooie was dropped on her face in the dirt the day before. The weather had mirrored her mood, a cruel reminder of the darkness cloaking her the week before, right before the explosion of light, sound and pain had robbed everything from her senses.
She couldn't bring herself to go home. Instead, she wandered through the forest, avoiding everybody, hunkering down in the brush. Some stubborn, angry part of her didn't want to see anybody - didn't want to be reminded of that failure, that irreconcilable fact that she had failed utterly and entirely. She didn't want to go back and see the look in the eyes of her friends...
... Because the signs of her ruination were physical.
But she can't stay away forever. And this is why she walks home today, taking the quickest path to House 45 that she can from the pocket of forest she's been nesting in. She tries not to be seen - but who knows how successful that will be? She is still bright and colourful as ever, after all.
Anybody who gets close enough to her will be able to see the scars of her defeat - her wings have been mercilessly clipped, pinioned to the point she can't use them properly.
That's why, whenever she gets to the door of the house, she's forced to peck it, thudding her beak against it until she gets a response.
And then she waits for the inevitable.]
[Accidental Voice]
[Whenever she can, Kazooie will try to get away from the others long enough to get to her journal. She needs to be sure of what day it is - just to convince herself that what happened did in fact happen.
She has to struggle to get it open, wedging her toe and beak under it and then using her shortened wings to push the pages apart. In the process, she hits the recording button.
Sure enough, it's the fifteenth. A week and a few days. That's longer than she's ever been dead before...
The journal catches her sigh of resignation and the subsequent spoken words.]
... This is crud. How the heck am I gonna do anything now? This never happened when I died at home...!
I can't even Fly - whoever heard of a dumb bird who couldn't fly...?!
[Her voice almost breaks there, from anguish she wouldn't normally admit.]
Stupid Malnosso-guys. Stupid, stupid...!
[Stupid her.
... She doesn't notice the journal's on, and sounds like she could use some comforting. Any volunteers?]
[It was cloudy and overcast when Kazooie was dropped on her face in the dirt the day before. The weather had mirrored her mood, a cruel reminder of the darkness cloaking her the week before, right before the explosion of light, sound and pain had robbed everything from her senses.
She couldn't bring herself to go home. Instead, she wandered through the forest, avoiding everybody, hunkering down in the brush. Some stubborn, angry part of her didn't want to see anybody - didn't want to be reminded of that failure, that irreconcilable fact that she had failed utterly and entirely. She didn't want to go back and see the look in the eyes of her friends...
... Because the signs of her ruination were physical.
But she can't stay away forever. And this is why she walks home today, taking the quickest path to House 45 that she can from the pocket of forest she's been nesting in. She tries not to be seen - but who knows how successful that will be? She is still bright and colourful as ever, after all.
Anybody who gets close enough to her will be able to see the scars of her defeat - her wings have been mercilessly clipped, pinioned to the point she can't use them properly.
That's why, whenever she gets to the door of the house, she's forced to peck it, thudding her beak against it until she gets a response.
And then she waits for the inevitable.]
[Accidental Voice]
[Whenever she can, Kazooie will try to get away from the others long enough to get to her journal. She needs to be sure of what day it is - just to convince herself that what happened did in fact happen.
She has to struggle to get it open, wedging her toe and beak under it and then using her shortened wings to push the pages apart. In the process, she hits the recording button.
Sure enough, it's the fifteenth. A week and a few days. That's longer than she's ever been dead before...
The journal catches her sigh of resignation and the subsequent spoken words.]
... This is crud. How the heck am I gonna do anything now? This never happened when I died at home...!
I can't even Fly - whoever heard of a dumb bird who couldn't fly...?!
[Her voice almost breaks there, from anguish she wouldn't normally admit.]
Stupid Malnosso-guys. Stupid, stupid...!
[Stupid her.
... She doesn't notice the journal's on, and sounds like she could use some comforting. Any volunteers?]
[voice / filtered 40%]
[This could almost be normal, if they didn't sound so wrong, so drained of emotion.]
... Could maybe get you... a cookie or something, I dunno... [And of course, insensitive as usual, though Kazooie doesn't yet know.]
[voice / filtered 40%]
Nah, that's fine. I'll head over there now, then.
[Voice | Filtered 40%] - > [Action]
Sure. I'll be waiting.
[Whenever Pao-Lin arrives, she'll notice the breegull waiting outside the door - her gaze is trained on her feet, but she's not going anywhere.]
[Action]
...she stops short at the sight of seeing Kazooie's clipped wings, speechless. Of course she'd heard over the journals that Kazooie lost the ability to fly, but seeing it for herself...it breaks her heart all over again.
She can't say anything right now, no matter how much she just wants to apologize over and over again for this mess. She'll just stand in front of Kazooie, looking utterly guilty, unsure what to do now.]
[Action]
This is her. This is really her. This is not the person-wearing-her-face that Kazooie killed. This is her, and... and what can they do now?
It makes her insides twist with relief and regret and anger and incompetent despair all wrapped into one.]
... Pao-Lin, look.
[She tries to keep her tone neutral, free of any particularly intense feelings, because she's afraid if she lets her emotions leak in, she'll break. And she can't afford to be weak now.]
... It's... okay. Well, it's not okay, but... it's better than nothing. Right? Right. So... uh.
I... I guess I'm just gonna have to... ... I dunno. [There really isn't anything she can do. The Flight Pad lays there on the house's roof, all but unusable... taunting her.]
[Action]
She strides forward, bends down a little, and throws her arms around Kazooie, hugging her close. Despite her best efforts, she's starting to cry a little.
This isn't going to make anything better, not really. But she doesn't know what else to do right now.]
[Action]
Then, wordlessly, she tilts her head forward, letting her beak nudge Pao-Lin's side gently - affectionately. She may not have words for this - for any of her convoluted tangle of feelings - but she can do something.
A few quiet seconds pass this way, with Kazooie almost motionless, her eyes half-closed.
Finally:]
... We're still buddies, Pao-Lin. That's not gonna change.
[Action]
I'm s-sorry, Kazooie....I'm so sorry...
[It's not fair. Kazooie didn't deserve this.]
[Action]
And it's not even your fault. It's those dumb stinking Malnosso-guys. You weren't even you.
[Action]
[Thanks for stating the obvious, Pao-Lin.]
[Action]
It's lame, okay?! I know! But - but you weren't a bad guy 'cause you wanted to be! It's different.
[Almost pleading with her -] You're my buddy. You wouldn't - wouldn't do that unless somebody made you.
[Action]
Finally, after a stifling silence, she settles on:]
You're a good friend, Kazooie. [Her voice is soft and slightly hoarse with grief.]