Adstring: IC goodbye letter
Oct. 6th, 2013 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scarysnakelady[The letter, written on mismatched sheets of paper and in three different inks, is left behind the bar, under a illusion that should break when she disappears. It's address to Urahara/Unohana on the outside, with Ukitake's name on there too, on the inside. She hopes one of them is the first to find this.]
If this is one of the people this is addressed to, hey. If not, what the fuck are you doing, stop that.
...So I should have had this letter written ages ago. I don't know why I didn't. I guess I thought I would never leave, that I was stuck here forever.
And I guess I should know by now that nothing here is forever. Going home? Was kind of a wake-up call. So here it is, my letter in case I leave again. Whether or not I come back, well, this is for both contingencies. So.
No idea where to start. I guess with information. The scroll that Kakashi left, he left it here when he left the second time. It's no longer sealed, but it still has plenty of information on the Animus, enemies, whatever he or, later, I learned that would be of tactical importance in the future. It's in with my weapons. If I come back, give me that. It will fill me in on what's going on. Hopefully I recognize my own damn hand-writing.
Take care of my bar. Yeah, it's technically Ginia's old place but I've put a lot of work into it, so don't fuck it up. Give it to Duo or Kida or something, if they're still around and want it and you don't. The still should work as long as it's taken care of. Don't drink the first stuff that comes out, it's always wood alcohol and will kill you. Take care of my snake, or at least let her go in one of the parks or something. She knows my scent, so if I come back, so should she.
I guess this is the part where I dispense some wisdom or whatever. I guess I can do that and you won't be around to argue ha, so here goes. Take care of each other. I know you won't let the kids get into too much deep shit, but let them fuck it up occasionally. There's no fuck up so big you can't make it worse, but there's also no fuck so big it can't be moved on from. Um, don't drink the stuff in the bottle in with my weapons, that stuff's for cleaning only. Don't let my bar go dark. We all need somewhere to hang out, so if not there, find somewhere. Somewhere people aren't singing.
If I don't come back, well. I'm sorry. I didn't want to go. As much as I hated this place at first, and for the longest time, as much as I complained about it and as many times as it chewed me up and spat me back out, I never wanted to leave you guys.
But I suppose I can't always be the one left behind. Sometimes, even those of us left behind have to do our own leaving. So I guess this is just to say thank you. And I'm sorry. If I could have told the world to fuck off and let me be, I would. I would and I can't and I'm sorry.
[Two drops of water, and a smear like someone wiped it away.]
I won't remember you, but maybe I'll miss you, somewhere deep down. I think I loved some of you, and I definitely trusted you, which is the bigger thing in my fucked-up book. I was a person here, not a tool. Even if that gets taken away from me which, if you'rereading this letter, it has, I still was, once. A friend once told me that as long as someone is remembered, they're never really gone. I think she was full of shit, but maybe, just maybe, she was right. So it wouldn't hurt to remember me, right?
And if I get back next month or something just go ahead and forget most of this letter, ok? Ok.
If this is one of the people this is addressed to, hey. If not, what the fuck are you doing, stop that.
...So I should have had this letter written ages ago. I don't know why I didn't. I guess I thought I would never leave, that I was stuck here forever.
And I guess I should know by now that nothing here is forever. Going home? Was kind of a wake-up call. So here it is, my letter in case I leave again. Whether or not I come back, well, this is for both contingencies. So.
No idea where to start. I guess with information. The scroll that Kakashi left, he left it here when he left the second time. It's no longer sealed, but it still has plenty of information on the Animus, enemies, whatever he or, later, I learned that would be of tactical importance in the future. It's in with my weapons. If I come back, give me that. It will fill me in on what's going on. Hopefully I recognize my own damn hand-writing.
Take care of my bar. Yeah, it's technically Ginia's old place but I've put a lot of work into it, so don't fuck it up. Give it to Duo or Kida or something, if they're still around and want it and you don't. The still should work as long as it's taken care of. Don't drink the first stuff that comes out, it's always wood alcohol and will kill you. Take care of my snake, or at least let her go in one of the parks or something. She knows my scent, so if I come back, so should she.
I guess this is the part where I dispense some wisdom or whatever. I guess I can do that and you won't be around to argue ha, so here goes. Take care of each other. I know you won't let the kids get into too much deep shit, but let them fuck it up occasionally. There's no fuck up so big you can't make it worse, but there's also no fuck so big it can't be moved on from. Um, don't drink the stuff in the bottle in with my weapons, that stuff's for cleaning only. Don't let my bar go dark. We all need somewhere to hang out, so if not there, find somewhere. Somewhere people aren't singing.
If I don't come back, well. I'm sorry. I didn't want to go. As much as I hated this place at first, and for the longest time, as much as I complained about it and as many times as it chewed me up and spat me back out, I never wanted to leave you guys.
But I suppose I can't always be the one left behind. Sometimes, even those of us left behind have to do our own leaving. So I guess this is just to say thank you. And I'm sorry. If I could have told the world to fuck off and let me be, I would. I would and I can't and I'm sorry.
[Two drops of water, and a smear like someone wiped it away.]
I won't remember you, but maybe I'll miss you, somewhere deep down. I think I loved some of you, and I definitely trusted you, which is the bigger thing in my fucked-up book. I was a person here, not a tool. Even if that gets taken away from me which, if you'rereading this letter, it has, I still was, once. A friend once told me that as long as someone is remembered, they're never really gone. I think she was full of shit, but maybe, just maybe, she was right. So it wouldn't hurt to remember me, right?
And if I get back next month or something just go ahead and forget most of this letter, ok? Ok.
