voice 01

[pyrolock]

Um...hi.

...No, wait, hold on a second. This is so awkward. Hello, um, imPorts. My name is Olive. Olive Silverlock. ...And I feel like I'm introducing myself as the new kid in front of my whole class, so this is about as much fun for me as it is for you.

[She pauses, what sounds like a breath being taken slightly audible from the recording.]

So! Yeah. New kid in town. In the world. You know I feel like I heard stories about this kind of thing happening, but it only really happened to the "superheroes" from where I live. Honestly it's so weird and I feel a little bit...guilty, I guess.

Not that this place doesn't seem great, but I'm not...interested in this hero stuff. Seems like such a big deal around here and it just weirds me out. [She pauses again, contemplating for a moment what more to say. Then she remembers something.] My friend though - Maps - would be in love with this place. If she was here I mean. If she was then she'd probably be screaming in my ear right now about getting to be a real life superhero, and going on team missions and stuff like that. I bet she'd get powers that would help her...I dunno, raid dungeons or solve puzzles? She plays a lot of roleplaying games like that sort.

[Are dungeons even a thing here? She has no clue. The town she got placed in seems like a rough area in particular, but no more rough than what she's used to seeing in Gotham City.]

...Well, okay, this is a disaster so I'm going to stop talking now and try to be a normal person.

[Hah. Normal. She wishes to be more normal.]

Comments

text;

[restingstitchface]

Interesting. But the question of normalacy is, too, a question of perception. Now, the question morphs to ask: how do people see you?

That is to say you are wrong. You define yourself as normal, yet freely admit that the public consciousness has ascribed "abnormality" as your defect. Maybe not to what most people think is normal. So I'll ask again: what are you?

[That certainly doesn't make you normal, does it?]

text;

[pyrolock]

I'm the girl who thinks you ask a lot of questions.

I don't care what other people think. I'm normal as I define what normal is.

Re: text;

[restingstitchface]

That sounds like an excuse to me. Your refusal to acknowledge the real fear that you are like nobody else here. A need to separate and distance yourself. Perhaps from the crowd. Or perhaps someone closer to home.

I wonder what has you so frightened...

text;

[pyrolock]

Nice assumptions you have there, creep. Don't act like you know me.

text;

[restingstitchface]

Don't feel so superior in mistaking my observation as assumption. You're not so hard to figure out.

Home or society? It's one or the other.

text;

[pyrolock]

Saying you got me "figured out" doesn't make you anymore credible in my eyes. You literally don't know anything about me.

text;

[restingstitchface]

Home, then. Some tragic event in your past that made you like this. Cynical. Afraid. You're clearly acting out of some deep-seated childhood trauma. Much like the Batman, in fact. Fancy that.

text;

[pyrolock]

[Batman. Ugh, great, so that settles it. This is that same Scarecrow she's heard stories about. Terrific, she's letting some whack-job get under her skin.]

Anymore stray assumptions you feel like making out of thin air? I'm think I'm pretty much done talking to you otherwise you creep.

text;

[restingstitchface]

You can't face it, can you? Poor child. Lost. Bewildered. You're shaking and exhausted. You can't stand it. I'll just say that's a terrible way to live. Let me help you.

If you don't like me offer of help then yes, I believe we're through. I only wish you could make better progress.

text;

[pyrolock]

Yeah, no, I don't think I'll be taking any help or advice from you. Not ever.

Don't contact me again.

text;

[restingstitchface]

Now, that's probably not a nice thing to say to a man who spent his time trying to help you.

Show some manners. Or perhaps your mother failed to teach those to you?

[pyrolock]

[No response. She's not going to answer that.]