Glencola Reef IC Inbox

[lonelynotforsaken]

[text | voice | action]
Callsign: LO431Y

Comments

[lonelynotforsaken]

I think so? I'm Polish and English on my mum's side. So, probably at least some Viking stock in there. We talked about it a little bit.

[At the other question, though, there's a pause in Martin's response. Does he lie and tell everyone he has a masters in parapsychology? No. He's not trying to get a job and that's not a useful subject here... maybe. It's not something he wants to get into in-depth with anyone, at least. Is there something else that might be useful-ish that he could pull off having a degree in?]

Sorry! There was a sound. I just... We've had a lot of predators. It wasn't actually literature I studied. That's something I do enjoy, though! Poetry, especially. I've got an MBA. A Master of Business Administration. Most of the work I've done has been admin-based, too. Accounting. If we... ever start a currency system, I guess I've got us covered.

[God knows he'd had to take over so much when Peter was in charge. He feels reasonably confident he can pull this off.]

[obeir]

[ K doesn't think much of the pause, because he doesn't expect such an innocuous question to have to be answered with a lie. And the mention of poetry piques his interest. ]

Literature and poetry, that makes two of us. [ As interests, not academic pursuits, of course. Admin-based work, accounting... is a bit less interesting, but it does tell him more about Martin as a person: ] So you're good at organisation. [ See? Useful skill.

But more importantly. ] What sort of poetry do you like?

[lonelynotforsaken]

I guess so. Yeah. I was... sort of running things for my boss back at my last job. He wasn't interested in dealing with pretty much anything admin-related.

[Peter Lukas' only purpose in life as Head of the Institute was to cause problems on purpose, as far as Martin could see. And to be a thorn in his side when trying to prep the weekly rota for the non-salaried positions.]

But I like... all kinds of poetry. Modern stuff's great, but I have to go back to the classics. Like... Keats? I guess he's my favorite. Wordsworth is great, too. I've been thinking about some of their stuff lately. Themes about nature and solitude. It's been a long time since I've talked or been around people apart from Jon. Just sort of... getting back into the groove of things, I guess. What about you?

[obeir]

[ So... good at organisation and being taken advantage of. Serving others. Damn if that doesn't strike a chord with K. His sigh goes unheard before he clicks the walkie back on to reply. ]

Keats and Wordsworth, good choices. Can't go wrong with the Romantics. Coleridge, Shelley, Blake, Byron, Hugo, Poe... [ There's a wistful note in his voice as he lists them off; the sort of interest that can't be faked. At least not from K. In response to Martin's question, he recites a few lines: ]

Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake
Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque,
A dull dark white against the day's pale white
And abstract larches in the neutral light.
And then the gradual and dual blue
As night unites the viewer and the view...

[ A pause, then: ] Was that... by choice? Only being around your boyfriend.

[lonelynotforsaken]

[Martin's eyes widen slightly. A blush touches his cheeks, and if he weren't spoken for... well. A man with a nice voice reciting poetry at him is wildly attractive.]

W-wow. That- Sorry. That was... You have a really nice voice for-for reciting poetry. Do you... practice?

[He'll get to the question about Jon in a moment. His mind is currently focused on one thing.]

[obeir]

[ Practise? K feels flattered. And a bit flustered, which is plain in his voice. ] Oh— thank you. [ Wryly: ] Listening to poetry would put most the people I've known to sleep.

[ Except for maybe Harley, if they're suitably romantic or amusing poems? Whenever he gets out of this he'll have to try. And maybe with Zephyr, too. Other likely candidates would've been Monty or Alphonse, but they're no longer in the Meadous. ]

I used to read some for my old boyfriend, but I think he mostly humoured me. Listened because it made me happy... [ He trails off. ] So— it's nice. Meeting someone who appreciates poetry too. [ Does this mean they can do poem swaps? He hopes so. ]

[lonelynotforsaken]

Your- oh! Um... hah. Jon doesn't much like my poetry, either. Or he- it's grown on him. Or I have. So, I think... yeah. He's better at reciting. Much, much better. His voice is really dreamy.

[Martin clears his throat.]

I think he was trained. Like in acting or something. But he didn't really recite poetry or anything. Part of his job was recording statements people gave us for our archive, though, so he did these snippets from them. I got to listen to them sometimes.

[All the time.]

But, yeah! A-any time you feel like... reciting something. I'll, um... I'll be around? Happy to listen.

[obeir]

[ Martin describing his boyfriend makes K smile to himself. Being a hopeless romantic, he can fully relate to the sentiments. And can't help feeling just a little envious of Jon, too, as he wonders if either of the people he's been romantically involved with have ever spoken of him like this. Probably not — he just can't imagine ever inspiring this kind of loving devotion from anyone. ]

He's lucky to have you. [ It's quiet and earnest, his smile audible in his voice. ] You're lucky to have each other. It sounds like you're very happy together. What sort of archive was it? [ He's picturing Martin listening to his boyfriend dryly reading the news with heart eyes. ]

And I'd love that. Same to you, if you ever feel like sharing poetry with me. Or just... talking. [ Does that sound weird? He hopes not. ]

[lonelynotforsaken]

Oh, ah... hah. This is going to sound pretty silly, but it's just stories from people who think they've encountered something supernatural. The place we worked dealt with, like... mythology and the occult? Publishing papers about superstitions and stuff. Social science things. It was one of the premier institutions in London, though, so it was neat!

Even if a bunch of stuff just sounds like someone was... not really in their right mind when they wrote it.