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Please do not stay in the sun too long. We are still too young to need prunes around here.


I hope you have as much fun as you can, sir.

Luke at it this way, I may not be able to find jade, but at least I could find anise other jewel that would sync with your current outfit.

Now now, child, there is no need to shed a tear over this monetary loss.

I am happy to see you revived these death threads from their graves.

Llave enjoys being fashionably late, it is all the rage right now.

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<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >>​

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The girl had seemingly changed so quickly. It may have simply been the deaths of the recent comrades, would it not? She had gone from the spicy, thorned rose to something that felt more like the trampled boots of Stalin's feet. Something more hollow. Torvald looked around the room again, and noticed how empty it felt. Was that just the dreadful feeling of the New Years' reaching its dark phalanges across the turn of the year?

Bourgeois peon commented on his speech, and -- and she felt strangely content about it.
That speech.
Dammit! It was foolish of him to even say anything. You slipped, Torvald. They saw a bit behind everything. How could the revolution continue if they were aware of the revolution's humanity! Torvald blankly stared at his hands as he thought about the speech. What had gotten over him to do something so idiotic? Was it the memories of three, four years ago? He tried to hide his shudder.

He was about to reply when there was a knock on the door. Torvald watched the girl get up with his dormant silence and neutral, wary expression.
It took only a few moments before his face sunk and his eyes widened.

That--
Are you absolutely positive? He made it. The fool actually visited! Hahaha. God damn.
Torvald jumped up and walked over to that bloody smug-faced panther, narrowing his eyes in burning disdain. It felt as if life returned to his once quiet form.

<< Maria, this man is dangerous. >> He muttered, below his breath, unaware that he called her something besides a nickname for once.
<< I know well enough why you are here, you bloody murderer. WE SHALL, AS THEY SAY, DANCE. >> Torvald made a big, intentional show and forcibly grabbed Lucas' hand. << COMRADE MARIA, WE ARE NOT GOING TO MAKE A PUGILISTIC MESS IN YOUR LOVELY HOUSE, SO EXCUSE OUR REVOLUTION OUTSIDE. >> It was extremely hard to drag Lucas anywhere -- his strength matched his own equally.

Torvald opened the door ready to throw Lucas and himself outside, but there was a knock on the door just as he opened it, and he did not catch Tucker's startled face as he threw Lucas outside, taking himself with him due to the panther's force and inertia, the two men barreling into poor Tucker just outside the house.​

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<< CEASE REVOLUTION >>​

<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >>​

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Torvald narrowed his eyes as she appeared and cleaned up the spill. How terrible! He could have done it himself. He was not some child to be looked after. He was the leader of the revolution! And he would not stand for this!​

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... Okay, maybe right now, he would stand for this. The useless peon of the bourgeoisie looked different today. There was something about her face that lined the melancholy of a Greek mask. Should he tone it down for today? Well no, it was useless to walk around without a mask, so he had to keep it up. Stay strong, Torvald-- for the revolution. She sat and drank her tea in silence, and Torvald looked on with a quiet uncertainty.​

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He returned back to his seat and continued to stare at the foolish young imbecile. He looked at his gloved hands, and slowly took them off, gently dropping them on his lap. He stared at his rough, dry hands, clenching and unclenching them absentmindedly.​

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He decided not to respond to Maria's question. Why should he?​

Was Lucas even going to arrive?​

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<< Proletarian, where are the others? They should have arrived by now, is that not how you say so? >> ​

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His voice was a bit calmer, but he did not turn to look at the girl. ​

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<< CEASE REVOLUTION >>​

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<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >>​

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Torvald stood at the door for a bit, eyeing the bourgeois pawn with a cold stare and a flat face. His eyes darted around her home. She put some effort into the decorations, and it was certainly noticeable. She greeted him with false warmth that made him creak, and she walked over to the kitchen after casually giving him the run down. What gall! What insolence! Torvald vehemently sniffed the air, closing his eyes and circling his hands close to his nostrils. He kept his coat on and did not say another word, walking to the living room.​

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With Maria gone, he took his careful seat by the games and the radio playing soft jazz. Nobody was here yet. Where was everybody? It would be a terrible view of his glorious revolution if he were to start ruining the party when nobody was even here. Such a plan, such a plan, oh how it goes down the drain so quickly! But alas, truly the best revolutions were those that would be able to shift to the changing times!​

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So Torvald lounged on the side and waited.​

He eyed some flowers on a vase next to him and poked them gently, but to his immediate chagrin he poked too hard, and the vase with the flowers collapsed off the table, falling with a loud CLANG as the solid mess rolled along the wooden floor, spilling water and flowers. At least the ceramic was still intact.​

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By Marx's moustache! He had to-- shoot, goddammit-- he had to think of something quickly before Maria thought of anything wrong! He jumped off the seat and picked up the vase.​

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<< Ah-- ahaha ... ahahahHAHA, DELICATE FLOWERS, THOUGH YOU ESCAPE THE GRASP OF THE REVOLUTION YOU WILL ALWAYS COME FACE TO FACE WITH THE PROLETARIAN REALITY THAT IS THE FUTURE! YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR THE EFFORTS OF THE INFINITE ARMIES THAT WILL CONTINUE TO EXIST! Sa--SALUTE YOUR PETALS TO MY GLORIOUS FORM! >> ​

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<< CEASE REVOLUTION >>​

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<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >>​

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In his room, Torvald had juggled the idea of whether or not to attend that bourgeois peon's little New Years party. Who in the world hosted a party on the day of the deaths? If she wasn't acting like more of an imbecile then Torvald would think that she would become nothing in this world where the proletarians would eventually rise! Certainly, certainly ...​

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He lay resting on his bed, his tie undone and his black blazer strewn messily on the floor. His arms were wide apart, and he faced the slow rotation of the precarious fan above him. The entire congregation left him dazed and tired, and the world felt like a revolving mess to him. Dizzy, dizzy, even lifting his shoulders caused enough pain, for the weight of his sorrows pulled him to the comfort of his bed.
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That wasn't to say that he had forgotten all about his conquest. His revolution, in the name of justice! He would need to get to the bottom of this silliness, but it felt like the world set up a barrier strictly to prevent his access. Torvald tossed and turned. He didn't-- didn't know what kind of emotions he was feeling right now. Sadness? There was definitely sadness, with maybe a pinch of anger ...​

He sighed, and scowled at himself.​

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He had to find out where that bastard could have gone hiding.​

Maybe he was at that party? ...​

Right! Right, that may be a snatch. And if anything, he could have some fun knocking down the rotten pawn-queen of the bourgeoisie down to size, especially for being so irresponsible as to continue a party on a day like this. His skin tingled. Something to take his mind off of his failures​

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His failures. His failures ...​

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- - -​

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When he arrived at Maria's home, he did not take another two quick seconds to say goodbye to the taxi driver as he rushed off. Torvald walked over to the door of the house and let out a hard knock.​

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<< OPEN, IF YOU DARE TO SEE THE LIGHT OF THE REVOLUTION GRACE YOUR INSIPID, BOURGEOIS EYES! >>​

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<< CEASE REVOLUTION >>​

Ghetto was reading his books in the bathroom.

Not quite that kind.

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{ m u s i c }​

[ one flew over the cuckoo's nest ]​

Spoiler

dear diary.
dec 30 20XX

i am not leaving my room. i refuse to! why should i leave my room after the travesty that has befallen me and the others? what reason is there? there is no reason! i never wanted this. ayanna gave me this diary today. it is the only place i can speak my mind by my own words. and it will always be the only place. bec

the st







she took away my tablet because i am searching up suicidal things on the search engines. that is a lie. ayanna is foolish to believe i would be doing something like that. i am not crazy or an imbecile.

i only have my books today. i always only have my books. but she said she would give me back my tablet later. i have no laptop. i am disconnected, and that is what i like to be.

i don't care. ayanna.
let me write in peace. there is no point for proper grammar when

ad


ayanna gave me a new book today. i did not want to look at it so i threw it to the floor with my other hard copies.
the blankets keep falling to the floor.

the clock keeps ticking and it bothers me. make it go away. i don't have anything interesting to say. i never do. it's been hours.
i don't know where ayanna is.

the funeral was today, lucas called in.
he doesn't care about me. why should i care about him or then? i never wanted this.

i never wanted it.

i never wanted it
i never wanted it

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<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >>​

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Torvald sat quietly, away from the other Fortissimo congregations, watching and listening with crossed legs. As he heard Erik's words drift through his ears, he felt his lip trembling ever so slightly. The December sun shone mercilessly on the back of his neck, with the hard, callous light that a sunny day in winter brought. It was a surreal brightness -- a sunny day in the midst of haunting cold and snowy chills, and yet even in the sun's unnatural light the people's shadows felt like long-dead corpses. Throngs of mourners sat hunched and quiet in their black vestments, and sprawled out in all directions from Torvald like the revolutionary, deceptive army of his dreams. But of course, today was different.

When taken past the shallow sense of mediocre fight or flight that charged his soul, he felt like a part of him had been missing. A regret, it bloomed like a delicate rose in the pits of his wrinkled heart, and its thorns bit into his chest. Whenever he would stand, or move, or even come across something that gave him remembrance of the faces of the four deceased comrades, the memories would relapse, the tide would wash, and for a fleeting moment in space and time he would feel breathless and drowning in the claws of despair. But just like that, his feet would feel the earth again and he would stand there, lifeless for a moment, before trying to continue on. This was not the first time, after all.

When Erik finished his spiel, Torvald stood and picked up the small bundle of blue roses that laid on the empty seats next to him. He walked through the aisle, avoiding the careful looks and weary masks that the other mourners wore, and stepped onto the podium.

The many mourners were looking down, some contemplating Erik's careful words, others considering the lives of the four deceased young revolutionaries. Torvald cleared his throat, and placed the roses in front of him on the stand, as he held its sides with a tight, deathly grip.

<< MY GLORIOUS REVOLUTIONARIES.

WE ARE HERE TODAY TO MOURN THE DERELICT EXPIRATION OF OUR COMRADES, BY THE BILLION SUNS THAT WILL DRIVE OUR FUTURE REVOLUTION. ONLY A FEW DAYS AGO DID I SEE AND CONTEMPLATE THE FACES OF THESE YOUTH THAT SERVED AS THE DRIVE TO DESTROY THE BOURGEOIS AND ALLOW THE PROLETARIAT TO RISE AND OVERCOME; REACHING A TRUE UTOPIA OF EGALITARIAN BEAUTY! >>

Torvald slammed the desk. The audience was silent in sheer horror.

<< THEY WERE THE FUTURE. THEY WERE WHAT WAS OURS AND WHAT HAS NOW BEEN LOST TO THE FORCES OF THE UNKNOWN AND THE INFINITE ENEMY THAT DRIVES AGAINST OUR STRUGGLES! IF WE ARE TO TRULY AVENGE THEIR DEATHS AND LEAD A GLORIOUS REVOLUTION, OF THE PEOPLE, THEN WE MUST MAKE SURE THAT THESE ENEMIES MAY BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE! WE MUST TOPPLE THE SYSTEMS, THE INFRASTRUCTURE, AND ALL THAT HAS LED TO THE CORRUPTION AND DESTRUCTION OF THESE YOUTHS! >>

The audience looked at him like he was insane.
His heart fluttered.

<< AND THUS WE SHALL FIGHT THE ENEMY AND AVENGE OUR FALLEN COMRADES IN THE NAME OF THE REVOLUTION! IF WE ARE TRULY TO REACH A BEAUTIFUL PARADISE WE MUST BRING THOSE WHO HAVE AFFRONTED US AND ALL WE STAND FOR TO JUSTICE! WE MUST REDUCE CAPITALISM, THE BOURGEOISIE, AND THE ENSLAVEMENT OF THE WORKING CLASS BY THE INSTITUTIONS TO RUBBLE, AND ONLY THEN -- TRULY THEN -- WILL WE BE ABLE TO MOVE ON!!

...

That is what I would have said, if I were not fighting my own personal regrets with this. And I am sure all of you must be, too. >>
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<< CEASE REVOLUTION >>
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<< My name is Tannhauser, and I am a simple medical student who has seen too much. >>

His eyes gazed straight through the crowd, as if they were nonexistent. His voice became heavy and strained.
A sound, like fireworks, played in his head.

<< On the night of their deaths, I did something to the young boy Duvont that he hated me for with his last breath. We had finished a musical night, and I dare say that all four youths played splendid roles in our production. We visited the house of the incident for a celebration, where young Duvont broke through his inhibitions far too much. I simply stopped him from doing things that I feel he would regret, but these are my beliefs, and beliefs are really the only thing that exist in this world. >>

He paused.

<< That was the last time I saw him, and I realized that even in my attempt to protect these irresponsible rascals, I had failed. I had failed, again-->>

Torvald's voice drifted off briefly, as his eyes widened. But with a snap, he refocused them and continued.

<< For when I woke back up, I saw all four of them lying, dead, and amidst a cacophony of iridescent insanity. >>

Torvald looked around the crowd. He tapped his fingers on the stand.

<< That is my regret. It is one of my millions of regrets in my life, that I feel I can not take away.

And from my experiences abroad, I am certain all of you have also faced regrets in your life -- involved with our deceased, especially -- that you feel you can not take away.

This should not be so. We knew all four as chipper, wonderful people ...
I may have not known the four as personally as some of you have, but despite my constant lambasting at their acting performances, or sense of trying to stop their fun, they were like children or younger siblings, many of them. This is why, for their sake, we should remember not to let our regrets bog us down. We should remember the lives of kindness and whimsy they did have, and how they brought light and justice to our own lives, is that not so? They would not wish for us to revile our lives in depression. We must live, for them.
There is a fundamental aspect of medical biology that is thus. We can eliminate viruses, bacteria, or-- or any such point down to its most fundamental basics. Its individual atoms of carbon, or nitrogen, or oxygen. And these are sent away, their, their physical forms. These fundamental substances cannot be eliminated truly, however, for they build up the universe. And in the same way, though these children pass on their physical forms, they have left with us a fundamental substance that has driven and influenced all of our lives; an-- an influence we see today with everyone present. >>

Throughout the speech, his fingers began to tremble, and Torvald found it harder to hold back the buffeting sighs of sadness that struck his heart. It was a sadness of distance; not the torrent, or wave of emotions that came with losing one close, but the hard winds that made the stomach churn upon realizing the death when you had already seen too much of it.

<< They are in a better place in this universe. We will find justice, and we will fight the enemies till they-- they may not stand. But that is not your role. Your role in our revolution is to remember the contributions that our friends have made, and to never forget. And, of course, to live as they had lived. >>

Torvald walked away from the podium, picking up his roses. He carefully placed one of each on the four caskets, stopping in front of Richie a bit longer for a brief moment, before resting the final blue rose on him. His large form slowly walked away from the caskets, head held down, lifeless, defeated, angry, and disappearing into the faceless masses.

It was not their role to find justice, but it would be his, at the very least.

(If everyone does indeed believe this thread to be excruciatingly nauseating then I recommend allowing it to disappear off the first page, my dears.)

My tears.

He is actually the collective forum project to archive every movement and event that has happened in the forum.