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cursednet2022-09-08 10:24 am
maritorious) wrote in cursednet2022-09-08 10:24 am
video | un: desdemona
[Nancy's looking a lot better since her arrival. Her black eye has faded, the cut on her lip has healed, and the damned headache is at long last gone. She sits with a straight back, and occasionally glances off-screen to make sure she's doing it right. Not like she'd really know. But it's fun, to be a part of something new like this, these video messages. These videos.
In the background, The Smiths play quietly. She takes a drink of what could be anything. It's not. It's tea. And gin.
Mostly gin.]
Hello, I'm trying this for the first time. It's all so incredibly new and exciting. [Her accent remains unchanged.]
Which is why I'd like to ask everyone something: How many of you are out of place? And how many are out of time?
I was speaking at the roller rink with Captain Bonnet and we were wondering if there were others like us here, not just dragged from a few years or across the country, but across the ocean, hundreds of years out of the past, into this ridiculous future and have no idea what cars or neon or arcades are let alone jeans.
If so, I propose we have a meeting of sorts. Try to learn all these new things together. Or if anyone is willing to explain the last two hundred years in history, I'm really curious. I know some of you are from the future future from here, but I imagine that'd be easier. [Now she feels like shes' excluding a huge chunk of the population, but come on. People like her and Stede were at a distinct disadvantage.]
Er-- My name is Nancy, and I'm from 1838 London.
In the background, The Smiths play quietly. She takes a drink of what could be anything. It's not. It's tea. And gin.
Mostly gin.]
Hello, I'm trying this for the first time. It's all so incredibly new and exciting. [Her accent remains unchanged.]
Which is why I'd like to ask everyone something: How many of you are out of place? And how many are out of time?
I was speaking at the roller rink with Captain Bonnet and we were wondering if there were others like us here, not just dragged from a few years or across the country, but across the ocean, hundreds of years out of the past, into this ridiculous future and have no idea what cars or neon or arcades are let alone jeans.
If so, I propose we have a meeting of sorts. Try to learn all these new things together. Or if anyone is willing to explain the last two hundred years in history, I'm really curious. I know some of you are from the future future from here, but I imagine that'd be easier. [Now she feels like shes' excluding a huge chunk of the population, but come on. People like her and Stede were at a distinct disadvantage.]
Er-- My name is Nancy, and I'm from 1838 London.
1/2 cw: child/domestic abuse
Because she does know what they say. There's tomes upon tomes about love gone sour, and it's usually the woman that's left kissing dirt.
Men rarely laid hands on Fukawa. They couldn't stand to, mostly. Instead it was her mothers that taught her of love's cruelties. They introduced her to the sting of knuckles, piercing shrieks. The kiss of darkness in a locked closet, days on end without food. Growing fetid, growing weaker, growing ever more sorry for living. Neither could forgive her for it; Fukawa was a flesh-bound reminder that the man they shared was a philandering shit.
She feels wretched reading this. She feels sorry for asking.
Then she gets further and suddenly the bottom drops out of her. Suddenly she doesn't feel so sorry at all. Sweet Oliver?]