(no subject)

[velocette]

[As usual, he's smoking. And it's not unusual that he's staring at the smoke like he's been hypnotized, but he's smiling more than he has in the years he's been on board.]

You know, I've been so fixated on these things for so many years. On cigarettes, I mean, Kools if I could get them--and it's funny that these are the greyest thing in my life. The single thing that lacks color now. I sort of expected the smoke to be blue...or pink.

I actually stopped seeing color when I was four. I think that was when I stopped believing in God, Santa, and the American Dream. I assumed for a long time that everyone went colorblind (literally, figuratively, whichever) when they got old enough to be cynical. But I came here and I met a real muse, and I've realized that I was mostly wrong.

I wonder what the rest of you lost when you stopped being kids? I don't expect many of you will answer, since most of you are understandably very sensitive about your pasts, but it's a real question. What did you lose when you grew up?

Comments

[velocette]

[He grins] You have a way of seeing things. People tend to lean too much on repetitious ways of describing things.

What were you like as a child?

[whatthewrackspurt]

I try not to be repetitious.

About the same as I am now, but smaller.

[velocette]

I'm happy to hear that. [He means that. And it surprises him.]

People must think you're very odd, though. They often do if you don't change with them.

[whatthewrackspurt]

They do. I'm called some things, by the people at school. Which is unfortunate because Hogwarts is already a school for people who are different. I've learned that there are many levels of being different, and if you're not the same as the different people, it's not a very fortunate thing to be.

[velocette]

I suppose people have told you not to worry about what they think. [And he wishes that people as 'different' as she is could turn on and off how much they cared, but he knows full well it's not possible.]

Sometimes if you're different enough you can frighten them into respecting you.

[whatthewrackspurt]

Yes, but it's already difficult enough fitting in without frightening people.

And I don't want their fear, or their respect. Neither gets you pudding in the end.

[velocette]

Respect does, if you know how to use it gently. At least it could; I've only ever used it to get cigarettes.

[whatthewrackspurt]

Can't you buy those?

[velocette]

[He shakes his head] No one around here sells them. And back home, if we had money, it went to my dad's favorite bar. He doesn't smoke, so he was never sympathetic to me or my little brother when we ran out.

[whatthewrackspurt]

How long have you been smoking, sir?

[velocette]

Good question. [He squints a bit, maybe trying to calculate through different calendars.]

Since I was eleven, so that must be nine years now. Close to it. I was seventeen when I died.

What are your vices?

[whatthewrackspurt]

Is it a rite of passage? Eleven's an important age for us, too.

I'm not really sure. Is a vice something you're not supposed to be doing?

[velocette]

Yeah. One of many; none of them are socially accepted by adults, though. What do you do at eleven?

[He grins, shrugs a shoulder] A favorite habit, yes. Something people probably tell you not to do, or look at you funny for.

[whatthewrackspurt]

We go to Hogwarts and learn how to be witches and wizards.

People are going to look at us funny anyway. Why not enjoy ourselves while they do it?

[velocette]

A dream come true, then. For some, anyway. I don't imagine all witches or wizards get in?

[whatthewrackspurt]

If you're in England, you get in. It's compulsory.

[velocette]

No one would stand for it where I'm from. Too many thugs and criminals mingling with normal, well-adjusted children...but with magic thrown on top.

[whatthewrackspurt]

Not many twelve year olds are hardened criminals.

[velocette]

[He smiles, a little wistful, wondering what her neighborhood must be like. Nothing is perfect but, honestly, hers sounds nice.] They are where I live. They have to be. I was thirteen the first time I stabbed someone. I was eleven the first time I saw a boot party. But I've read about other places where that's not the norm; I'd like to visit them, now that I actually know how to be on my best behavior.

[whatthewrackspurt]

What's a boot party?

[velocette]

It's where you get together, beat each other up. Usually just one person gets the worst of it though.

It's as boring as it sounds.

[whatthewrackspurt]

Yes, that does sound pretty terrible. I'm glad we don't do that here.