古手 梨花 . Furude Rika ( "frederica" ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
badend_replay) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-11-30 08:26 pm
badend_replay) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-11-30 08:26 pm
Entry tags:
Rikastel ))
[ A copy, huh?
Rika had broken out her remaining stash of bernkastel wine. Nights had been spent locked up in her room, not wanting to eat or drink anything else. Did it matter? She had thought this body was valuable. A body that she didn't have to abandon after a few months. She had grown to be sixteen and thought she was the most matured and most 'real' Furude Rika of them all... What a joke that had been.
Copies don't need food.
She gulps down another mouthful of wine.
A copy. A copy, that could never be the same Furude Rika that her friends. A collection of memories stuck into a fake world. She feels stupid for thinking she was ever Furude Rika at all. After all, she's always been a copy. A collection of memories taken from dying Furude Rikas and rolled into what... Oh right.
Rolled into Bernkastel.
If she's not Furude Rika, then isn't that all that's left? ]
Heh... hehehe. That's right, isn't it? [ She stands up and walks to the phone. Beginning to smile now. Her sanity slipping. She's not Furude Rika. Bernkastel will laugh. She'll be so amused by this girl's discovery. That all of her attempts to deny what she was, what she was becoming, were for nothing. In some ways she's ashamed to realize this... but in more ways, she's relieved. She doesn't have to struggle to be someone she could never become anymore. ] I was never Furude Rika to begin with. This information isn't new to me.
[ Rika picks up the phone and holds it to her ear, listening to others struggle with the same truth. ]
[ Phone ]
Are you all done yet? Has it sunk in yet? We're nothing. We're not even in control of our own bodies anymore. So are you all done deluding yourselves? You die and are revived, good as new with your memories in tact. Just a mimicry of true death. We struggle with that post office to scrap for pieces of what we want to be. How didn't any of us see it before? The signs have always been there. We've always been fakes, denying it as we struggle to hold on to lives that we stole. That's what copying means, doesn't it? Stealing?
So well played, Mayfield. Your little game was fun. Your little joke was quite the laugh. This stolen life was well picked and interesting. But I'm done playing by its rules.
[ Her voice is beginning to waver. On the verge of tears, because she can't stand the things she is saying. She still wants to hold on to being Furude Rika, even if it's foolish. ]
I'll never be Furude Rika. Furude Rika is another girl. I won't live as her copy either, okay? I won't play by Furude Rika's rules, or yours. I suggest that everyone else do the same. If you can't win the game, then just change the rules so you can win.
Rika had broken out her remaining stash of bernkastel wine. Nights had been spent locked up in her room, not wanting to eat or drink anything else. Did it matter? She had thought this body was valuable. A body that she didn't have to abandon after a few months. She had grown to be sixteen and thought she was the most matured and most 'real' Furude Rika of them all... What a joke that had been.
Copies don't need food.
She gulps down another mouthful of wine.
A copy. A copy, that could never be the same Furude Rika that her friends. A collection of memories stuck into a fake world. She feels stupid for thinking she was ever Furude Rika at all. After all, she's always been a copy. A collection of memories taken from dying Furude Rikas and rolled into what... Oh right.
Rolled into Bernkastel.
If she's not Furude Rika, then isn't that all that's left? ]
Heh... hehehe. That's right, isn't it? [ She stands up and walks to the phone. Beginning to smile now. Her sanity slipping. She's not Furude Rika. Bernkastel will laugh. She'll be so amused by this girl's discovery. That all of her attempts to deny what she was, what she was becoming, were for nothing. In some ways she's ashamed to realize this... but in more ways, she's relieved. She doesn't have to struggle to be someone she could never become anymore. ] I was never Furude Rika to begin with. This information isn't new to me.
[ Rika picks up the phone and holds it to her ear, listening to others struggle with the same truth. ]
[ Phone ]
Are you all done yet? Has it sunk in yet? We're nothing. We're not even in control of our own bodies anymore. So are you all done deluding yourselves? You die and are revived, good as new with your memories in tact. Just a mimicry of true death. We struggle with that post office to scrap for pieces of what we want to be. How didn't any of us see it before? The signs have always been there. We've always been fakes, denying it as we struggle to hold on to lives that we stole. That's what copying means, doesn't it? Stealing?
So well played, Mayfield. Your little game was fun. Your little joke was quite the laugh. This stolen life was well picked and interesting. But I'm done playing by its rules.
[ Her voice is beginning to waver. On the verge of tears, because she can't stand the things she is saying. She still wants to hold on to being Furude Rika, even if it's foolish. ]
I'll never be Furude Rika. Furude Rika is another girl. I won't live as her copy either, okay? I won't play by Furude Rika's rules, or yours. I suggest that everyone else do the same. If you can't win the game, then just change the rules so you can win.