Victor S. Court (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
curada) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2015-07-16 01:33 pm
curada) wrote in maskormenace2015-07-16 01:33 pm
01 ✯ Video
I have a few questions for everyone, if I may.
[Due to the events that preceded his arrival in this world, Victor's voice is quiet; he's unable to subdue his fatigue and his speech is reluctant and lethargic. The slow atmosphere reflects in the home he's carved out for himself. He's dressed in his long, white coat with decorative weaving on the sleeves, and wears a black shirt and red tie, which has a white stripe on the bottom and in the centre of the knot. In the foreground of the video feed is a well-furnished round table. A white doily characterised by floral openwork serves as a mat for a blue vase painted with white lilies, filled with white aster. Then behind it a white china teapot with an elegant pink floral design, with two matching cups and saucers. On the left is a glass jug filled with water, with an upended glass on its lid. Behind them is today's newspaper.
Victor is playing with the cuffs on his coat as he speaks. Then his brow creases and he glances away from the camera for a while. In general he would shy away from discussing the issues he's about to raise. He'd always had Victoria to place ahead of his own needs; acting independently had never crossed his mind. At this thought, he begins playing with his cuff a little more roughly. Then he rubs the back of his wrist as he begins to speak.]
Do you truly believe concern lies in the hearts of those responsible for our continued existence here? Why must we wage war on their behalf? They didn't so much as ask our consent. They provide those who acquiesce with nourishment and shelter, and welcome us into their cities and grant all the gift of hospitality. This must be why some of you place such faith in them, and it is why I believe I must be grateful. Yet I fear this begets my next question. If you had the opportunity to leave this world in some way, would you? I ask myself: how many of us would return home, were such action possible? I would humbly ask for your opinions on this issue.
[Now he rubs the back of his neck and furrows his fingers through his hair. Turning away his head, he wrings his ponytail in frustration whilst he holds his breath. His shoulders lift and he holds a hunched position over the table for a short moment. Then he reaches for the jug and pours himself a glass of water, his fingers gripping both tightly as he fills the latter to the brim.]
Secondly, I used to believe my world's medical technology was formidable, but I confess I find myself growing increasingly confused by this realm's array of treatment. Science and medicine in my land advanced greatly with the use of white magic. Here there are endless remedies - ones not based on the amplification of life's essence but with ingredients and chemicals created synthetically. How is such a thing possible? I would be grateful if a medical professional explained the process to me.
[His eyes constatly stray from the camera as he talks; to the ceiling and the floor. He appears distant, more than the camera would indicate, and doesn't smile - but he isn't calm, either. There are plenty of things he'd like to do at this moment. Stop speaking. Start sleeping. He closes his eyes to have a mental break. One long moment later, he shakes his head, avoiding eye contact.]
Regardless, I am a Doctor. If you require treatment during any circumstance, I am willing to mend your wounds. I would humbly ask only for your consent.
[A pause. Finally, he's done.]
The decision is yours.
[With a drink of water, he cuts the feed.]
[Due to the events that preceded his arrival in this world, Victor's voice is quiet; he's unable to subdue his fatigue and his speech is reluctant and lethargic. The slow atmosphere reflects in the home he's carved out for himself. He's dressed in his long, white coat with decorative weaving on the sleeves, and wears a black shirt and red tie, which has a white stripe on the bottom and in the centre of the knot. In the foreground of the video feed is a well-furnished round table. A white doily characterised by floral openwork serves as a mat for a blue vase painted with white lilies, filled with white aster. Then behind it a white china teapot with an elegant pink floral design, with two matching cups and saucers. On the left is a glass jug filled with water, with an upended glass on its lid. Behind them is today's newspaper.
Victor is playing with the cuffs on his coat as he speaks. Then his brow creases and he glances away from the camera for a while. In general he would shy away from discussing the issues he's about to raise. He'd always had Victoria to place ahead of his own needs; acting independently had never crossed his mind. At this thought, he begins playing with his cuff a little more roughly. Then he rubs the back of his wrist as he begins to speak.]
Do you truly believe concern lies in the hearts of those responsible for our continued existence here? Why must we wage war on their behalf? They didn't so much as ask our consent. They provide those who acquiesce with nourishment and shelter, and welcome us into their cities and grant all the gift of hospitality. This must be why some of you place such faith in them, and it is why I believe I must be grateful. Yet I fear this begets my next question. If you had the opportunity to leave this world in some way, would you? I ask myself: how many of us would return home, were such action possible? I would humbly ask for your opinions on this issue.
[Now he rubs the back of his neck and furrows his fingers through his hair. Turning away his head, he wrings his ponytail in frustration whilst he holds his breath. His shoulders lift and he holds a hunched position over the table for a short moment. Then he reaches for the jug and pours himself a glass of water, his fingers gripping both tightly as he fills the latter to the brim.]
Secondly, I used to believe my world's medical technology was formidable, but I confess I find myself growing increasingly confused by this realm's array of treatment. Science and medicine in my land advanced greatly with the use of white magic. Here there are endless remedies - ones not based on the amplification of life's essence but with ingredients and chemicals created synthetically. How is such a thing possible? I would be grateful if a medical professional explained the process to me.
[His eyes constatly stray from the camera as he talks; to the ceiling and the floor. He appears distant, more than the camera would indicate, and doesn't smile - but he isn't calm, either. There are plenty of things he'd like to do at this moment. Stop speaking. Start sleeping. He closes his eyes to have a mental break. One long moment later, he shakes his head, avoiding eye contact.]
Regardless, I am a Doctor. If you require treatment during any circumstance, I am willing to mend your wounds. I would humbly ask only for your consent.
[A pause. Finally, he's done.]
The decision is yours.
[With a drink of water, he cuts the feed.]
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[Curada. Curaga. Esuna. He couldn't know everything. That would be ridiculous.]
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Aha, and Esuna? Curaga?
[THIS IS REALLY, REALLY STRANGE. WHAT IS GOING ON?]
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[He smiles -- he can see Victor is a little bit flustered at the idea that someone not from his world knows this stuff.]
Some worlds use the same terminology, I guess.
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He's honestly shocked.]
... How absurd.
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Alas, we are both stuck here for the foreseeable future.
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Please call if you ever feel the need.
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