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changehistory[OOC Note: AU 'verse, inspired by this fanvid that made me go "oooooh". Peter referred to is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thatsortofpower]
Pretty, very pretty, but really quite mad. Right out of Bedlam, for sure, I thought, though how he'd ended up in Japan I couldn't fathom. Surely no ship would take him on, talking the way he was, about the future? His clothes were strange, true, and his speech, though it was a relief after so long to find someone who spoke English, even with his strange accent. The place he spoke of being from, I'd never heard of, even. "New York." It was New Amsterdam, then, you see, and part of the Dutch colonies, not the British. He at least adjusted to that to clear up the confusion of locality, but then his complete lack of knowledge of the Dutch language, of which I'd picked up a bit on the ship, was just as baffling, though he seemed to think it ought to lend credence to his story.
But how do you accept that someone has come from the future to fix the past -- to fix you -- especially when you're not aware that anything is truly broken? Which, looking back, I suppose I knew on some level, but I was a child, then, not even thirty, and hardly given to the introspection and self-examination I am now.
He wasn't mad, of course. Not in the least bit, though I have to say he does have a tendency towards maudlin brooding that I've never quite broken him of, but that isn't madness, nor is it relevant for the discussion. But then? That day? I thought it a pity that someone quite so pretty had to be insane. Of course, I couldn't leave him to wander the countryside all alone in that state. He didn't speak the language; he had no idea of the customs; he stood out like a sore thumb, both by virtue of being a gaijin and his clothes and attitude. So, I took him with me out of some sort of...fine. Out of pure selfishness, really. He was pretty, he spoke English, I was lonely, and he seemed terribly fond of me for some reason I didn't understand then. His story proved to be far more true than I could fathom, then, but that is neither here nor there when asking about first impressions. It's a story for another topic, an issue to delve into at another time. Perhaps.
thatsortofpower]Pretty, very pretty, but really quite mad. Right out of Bedlam, for sure, I thought, though how he'd ended up in Japan I couldn't fathom. Surely no ship would take him on, talking the way he was, about the future? His clothes were strange, true, and his speech, though it was a relief after so long to find someone who spoke English, even with his strange accent. The place he spoke of being from, I'd never heard of, even. "New York." It was New Amsterdam, then, you see, and part of the Dutch colonies, not the British. He at least adjusted to that to clear up the confusion of locality, but then his complete lack of knowledge of the Dutch language, of which I'd picked up a bit on the ship, was just as baffling, though he seemed to think it ought to lend credence to his story.
But how do you accept that someone has come from the future to fix the past -- to fix you -- especially when you're not aware that anything is truly broken? Which, looking back, I suppose I knew on some level, but I was a child, then, not even thirty, and hardly given to the introspection and self-examination I am now.
He wasn't mad, of course. Not in the least bit, though I have to say he does have a tendency towards maudlin brooding that I've never quite broken him of, but that isn't madness, nor is it relevant for the discussion. But then? That day? I thought it a pity that someone quite so pretty had to be insane. Of course, I couldn't leave him to wander the countryside all alone in that state. He didn't speak the language; he had no idea of the customs; he stood out like a sore thumb, both by virtue of being a gaijin and his clothes and attitude. So, I took him with me out of some sort of...fine. Out of pure selfishness, really. He was pretty, he spoke English, I was lonely, and he seemed terribly fond of me for some reason I didn't understand then. His story proved to be far more true than I could fathom, then, but that is neither here nor there when asking about first impressions. It's a story for another topic, an issue to delve into at another time. Perhaps.
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Date: 2008-06-02 11:00 pm (UTC)Of course then I get sidetracked by the 'pretty' comment and wish I had been a bit more rugged back then.
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Date: 2008-06-02 11:04 pm (UTC)Why? Clearly I liked the pretty or I would have left you on the side of the road.
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Date: 2008-06-02 11:10 pm (UTC)I doubt you could've lost me that easily. I was pretty and stubborn, and a touch determined to fix things.
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Date: 2008-06-02 11:12 pm (UTC)I was stubborn, too! And usually drunk and thus good at tuning you out.
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Date: 2008-06-02 11:32 pm (UTC)Stubborn isn't the word I'd have used, drunk though? Yeah. That's a definite word choice at the time. Though I still don't know how you managed that, my body metabolizes that stuff fast, and you were sloshed.
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Date: 2008-06-03 04:02 am (UTC)I don't know? I can't seem to keep it the same level of drunkenness anymore. Maybe the ability was still too young, too new to have reached that point. I mean, I didn't even realize what I could do.