Things Left Unsaid

Every moment conversations pass, like whispers on the wind, through the halls of the Library. As common as blossoms floating in the air for the denizens there, these passing moments serve as inspiration to the average Wanderer between the shelves. Few know why and from where these conversations come from, only that they have found their way here to be dispersed between the endless shelves until there are none left to hear them.

Some Wanderers have taken to transcribing these ghosts on the breeze, and keeping them. For what reasons, we cannot speculate, but the Wanderers who do keep their transcripts take great pride in it. Perhaps it is a way to experience a moment of a life that is not your own. Whether the result of voyeuristic tendencies, an obsessive need to record, or just an appreciation for the little moments of beauty that float through our Halls, these conversations have been transcribed and are available to those who wish to see them.

To any passing Wanderers who have stumbled upon this collection, do add what morsels you've experienced to this work as well. There are so many stories to catalogue, but it is hard on one's own, as I'm sure you know.

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Contributon

Meta Information

So, what is this?

Short answer: A collaborative page based on stories told through exclusively dialogue and a fitting title.
Long answer: Well, the short answer just about summarizes it.

This piece was made in an attempt to practice dialogue gone horribly wrong, and now it is here for all of us to experience and add to.
The rules are as follows: Entries must consist entirely of dialogue, save for the title. Simple, right? It's amazing the kind of scenes you can set and the stories you can tell with just a little bit of dialogue.

There's a set way to add to this page, borrowing heavily from MaliceAforethought's amazing Memento Mori. I would highly recommend checking this out if you haven't already. Entries will be placed in a collapsible, beneath the title, and will have an invisible commentary section beneath. Using the code below, it should be trivial to add to the work!

++++ A Well Thought Out Title
[[collapsible show="= Open" hide="- Close"]]
"your work goes here."
"does it now?"
"it does."
"pretty convenient place to keep it, don't you think?"
[[/collapsible]]

[[size 0%]]
No commentary currently.
[[/size]]

Following the instructions and code above, adding to the page should be a relatively painless procedure.

Now onto everyone's favorite topic, editing and critique! The collaborative nature of the page means users can edit any entries you may add, though editing must be accompanied with a short explanation of the edit and why it was made in the commentary box, below the [size 0%] delimiter. Do be kind and respectful when making edits or reverting them, and provide an explanation no matter what you do. Taking critique at face value is encouraged, and by working together a much better entry results.

Hopefully that should be all. Now go out and write some entries!

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A Conversation Between Two Ghosts on a Moonlit Street Corner

= Open

"I didn't think I'd find you here."
"You came down my street. Who were you expecting to find?"
"Not you, I guess. I think I wanted to see this place again."
"Well, here you are."
"…"
"Full moon tonight?"
"Yeah."
"I think that's kind of funny. Maybe that's why I'm here."
"You don't know why you're here?"
"Do you?"
"I guess not. Don't think about it much."
"I try not to. Makes it easier that way."
"I suppose it would. You handling alright?"
"It's hard, but yeah. I'm getting better."
"I'm glad."
"Thank you, that means a lot."
"…"
"It's cold out."
"I know."
"Why aren't you wearing a coat?"
"You learn to enjoy it. The cold, that is."
"That's a bit beyond me. I never learned how to do that."
"It takes time."
"…"
"Hey, I want you to know I'm sorry."
"I know."

No commentary currently.

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One-Sided Conversation Between a Docent and a Wanderer in the Non-Human Biography Section

= Open

“Trisk?”
“It’s me, again. I… I…”
“I’m gonna pretend you can recognise me.”
“Hear me.”
“I know you’re watching me, at least, Trisk.”

“You recognise that name? Your name? You used to, I think. Or maybe I’ve just stopped imagining it.”

“Magen is still sick. He can’t laugh any more. It hurts him too much.”
“But Ebenki has a place on an expedition! Some world, plane, reality, whatever- it’s so green there, Trisk. I poked my head through- well, you know, hopped through the Way with them to see, and there’s so much forest. It’s not chlorophyll, though, and the trees have some exotic biological process unlike anything you can even imagine, at least that’s what they tell me. They’re going to follow some weird signal and Ebenki, they’re so excited, Trisk.”

“But I’m so scared for them.”

“…”

“No, don’t go! I- I’m looking for a book, I-”
“D- Docent, please can you help me find a book on first-hand accounts of reptilian marital customs?”
“…”
“How long on your sentence, Trisk? Docent?”
“ELEVEN THOUSAND, EIGHT HUNDRED AND NINETY-FOUR CYCLES.”
“You always wondered about the future, Trisk.”
“You get to see it now, I suppose.”
“I just-”

“I just wanted to see it with you, is all.”
“Take- take this, okay?”
“Keep it in your pocket.”
“When you- when you come back you can read it, okay? You can know that I…”
“Please take it, Trisk-”
“Docent? Docent don’t-”

“Trisk, don’t leave me.”

By Vishardsh. Yes I cheated, yes this is technically a monologue

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Polite Discussion Between a Body-Jacker and Her Target on the Lower Levels of a Bandcity

= Open

“Hey.”
“…Hello.”
“Those some nice augments.”
“Of all- of all the things this miserable city has thrown at me, a body-jacker was not what I expected. Those your friends behind me?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“I’m a thaumature. Beat it.”
“Oh, are you? I’m fucking eight people with guns. We don’t want ta’ kill ya. Just nick yer legs. Ceramite, is that?”
“Just white plastic over cheap steel. Aesthetic.”
“Shame. Ceramite goes for a lot down here.”
“Mekham? That lady givin’ ya trouble?”
“Hold back, ya fuckwit! We ‘avin a chat! She’s reasonable! Ya reasonable, ‘ent ya?”
“‘She’ is actually very unreasonable, and she’s leaving.”
“Oh, wit’ those cheap steel legs?”
“Really cheap steel legs. Look, they’re banding. Basically made of cardboard.”
“Oh, then we’d best be getting them off, then.”
“Oh no really, I’m very attached to them, on a personal level. Wouldn’t trade them for the world. You understand.”
“Sounds like ya expect me to be reasonable without bein’ so ya’ self.”
“Look! Kinetoglyph! Scary! Run away now!”
“That’s a light glyph, darlin’. I know the difference.”
“Well I’m not going to hit you with a shock kinetoglyph right out of the gate, that’d be rude.”
“Mekham? Should we move or-”
“Leave me wit’ ‘er! She ain’t goin’ anywhere and this is the most fun I’ve ‘ad since Gerkehn fell ova’ that time!”
“… I’ve got to ask, how’d Gerkehn fall over?”
“Tripped ova’ a little crack in the pavement, came right down.”
“Sounds hilarious.”
“Fuck off! It was a big crack an’ I couldn’t see with the light-”
“Shut up, Gerkehn! -Oh it were. But I’m sad to say- this gotta end, darlin’. World’s a bitch an’ the boss wants a pair a’ legs ‘bout that size.”
“And I want my ‘pair a’ legs’ on my body, if you please.”
“Seems like we’re going to have to agree to disagree, my way.”
“Seems like a disagreement, for sure.”
“Fight for ‘em?”
“Honestly? I’m surprised you didn’t lead with that.”
“Lads? Y’ can play now.”

By Vishardsh. Set in the IRONBAND cannon, if ya picked that up

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Gentle Murmuring Overheard From the Withered Dryad of a Rose Tree and a Quietly Starving Sea Nymph

= Open

“I miss it.”

“Miss what? Miss the earth, the sea? The soil?”

“Well, those, yes. But I think what I miss most of all are the roses.”

“You did love gardening.”

“No, but those roses were special. They were brought with my home tree, tangled in his roots. Do you remember them? I’d had them for so long, I could bring them to work and eat their blooms, have their flower petals stuck in my teeth and their nectar on my skin. I could go anywhere. They had enough of home that I was sustained. Free.”

“I know.”

“Do you, though?”

“I think so. Not exactly your situation, but my sea was taken by— no. Sorry. Listeners.”

“The Raven pirates?”

“Yeah.”

“If it’s any consolation, my gardens – my tree – were stolen by their king. He uses it now as a wasteground for his hunting dogs.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I wish we could go home.”

“If only.”

By Styg. This is the first actual dialogue between two or more individuals in over five years, by my reckoning. Pardon that it does not follow the bodysnatcher act well. Thanks to rosie for the support and encouragement.

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A Small Chat Between the Youngest Brother Death & A Provider of Company

= Open

"Greetings once more, Companion.”

“Likewise.”

“I see this quarry of yours had elected not to partake in your little tradition.”

“Heh, not in the slightest; said they didn’t like the taste of secondhand smoke, and the full thing would be a bad last memory.”

“I suppose so.”

“Yeah.”

…

“Well, we both know what you’re here for, and they’ve already admitted their last confessions, so you can save them the trouble of waking up.”

“Indeed.”

…

“…Well?”

“‘Well’?”

“Usually you’d have shoved that thing back into your coat, and gracefully sauntered back to the Lands by now.”

“Yes, I would have — if I didn’t sense you had something to ask of me, Companion.”

“…Alright, fair enough; How are your brothers doing? Haven’t heard much of them in a while.”

“They have been busy as of late: my older brother is preoccupied with the Immortal Empire’s crumbling, while the eldest has been tending to the young of The Rat.”

“Yeah, that sure sounds like a lot to deal with.”

“We will persist; we always do.”

“Figured as much.”

…

“…Hey, do you often converse with.. people like me?”

“…On occasion.”

“Right, well, if you ever happen to see someone tall, cloaked, mirror for a face, calls themselves a ‘Caregiver’…”

“…tell them I’m proud of their work.”

“..I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you.”

“Farewell, Companion.”

“Likewise.”

Originally, I was going to do a convo between 4999 & 5699, but that felt too bleak a scenario for the mood I wanted; a mood which I feel is better conveyed in this tale. || Also, I love the Brothers Death, and will leap upon any excuse to make more content for them, so there’s that too, I guess. || But yeah, hope you enjoyed that, and FYI Wolf Death Best Death. || -Clysm31201

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Closing remarks on a informal subtournament of Ephasian Modified Court Chess between Lady Neralith of Wilder, County Kalgour and Thomas Yi-Tsai of Corpus Christi, Texas

= Open

“I’m frankly sick of charging on about corsetry and gradients of tea—I’ll get indigestion if I ever take another drink from that samovar. Here. Your move.”

“Wasn't all too bad. The last one that you talked about—nintanken, or something tea that synthesizes your inner kidneys? That's something I’ll drink, just to see what the innards would look like, like the scene at Walmart hot deli on Sunday closeout with that big pile up of shopping baskets and Instacart foil nylon bags at the cold cuts, the rotisserie chickens. Everywhere at once at the same time. I ain’t scared…aw shit, you got my rook pinned down on that black square over there, huh?”

“My father sat me down and schooled me in the Pinkerton opening and defense as a young girl. It’s quite a simple range of moves, really. Let your rooks act as the wardens with the knights being dragged in tow and press the pawns in for the bloodhounds.”

“Entrapment…be honest and call that entrapment. Jesus, I was planning to shuttle my queen into a box and hold out from there and the next thing I know all her butlers are being split apart by one of your bishops.”

“The diagonal thrust. Can do it with memory alone. It's way easier, you know, with none of the gems on the board being properly calibrated or, heavens forbid, dialed in. If you were more brazen beforehand you could have intercepted and stopped my push with your other knight.”

“Yeah, but that's just dumping out into a whole new can of worms. If I start letting my guard down on that side then what else are you going to push? You’ll just somehow rally every other piece on that side to rush in…and then, hell. Geez. Red alert all over! Chaos and cats and dogs and the whole weight of the corpse of Richard Nixon and all his squirreled files up on the Watergate penthouse slams down. Bowls me over. Just like that. Hell, you know what? It’s your turn. Call it out and bring the house down to a draw already.”

“It's bad form, I'm afraid. I’ll be doing a massive disservice to your future prospects of the prize—and your ego, it seems, if we capitulate and split apart this early. Besides, I find myself enjoying your company. I do admit its such a fortunate thing, however, that the rules of the house and those figures up in the café terrace above are keeping your…more crude inhibitions in check.”

“Not crude. Just honest—hell, they ain’t even tuning into what we’re talking about. Everyone’s watching here for the moolah, that pot, and when it’s not their turn they’re here for the other show. Dog on dog, pen on square. An instinct. Find the bend and then start pushing it. Heck, most of the time it's not even an play. Its people making that one step or glancing the wrong way. You do remember the thing that happened last week between the mantis and that kid with the wrist blade, the kind that spits out on little charges and pops off like a weedwhacker, right?"

"I can't imagine how you found the gall to bring up such a sight when blood was smeared and skewered all over like watercolors on the railings and that lovely tapestry of the centaur. What are you driving at?"

"Metaphors. Never enough of them. I like to take things straight, snappy. That's what everyone does back home when they enter the pool for some prize money—-formalities out the window. All hands down, on deck to the rails as the ship starts dipping under. The straight truth. The undiluted truth. And I'm laying it down, domino-like just as you did on my spaced out ass. Yeah, I figured your groundskeepers sling that language all the time. You know I'm out. Toast. Back to the dugouts and the clubhouse.

So call it.

Five cycles and you’re already beaten me…once, twice, a third if the prospects of that didn't turn so bleak after I make that mistake of chancing a glance away from the board. If it was arranged in the style Texas Hold-Em, or god, forbid, the house-versus-all blackjack, I would be the one talking about openings and strategy.”

Written by lzhoudidion. No commentary currently.

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A Dissection of Manhood in a Blind

= Open

"Hey."

"Yes sir?"

"Look out there."

"Where?"

"On the left side of the field."

"I see him!"

"Shh, shh, not too loud. Don't wanna scare him."

"Sorry."

"All good. Your brother nearly scared away his first deer too."

"That the one's head he's got mounted in his room?"

"Yup, sure is."

"Are we gonna do that for this one?"

"Only if you want to."

"I'm not sure I want to. It freaks me out."

"Not to everyone's taste, I getcha. You ready?"

"I think so, yes sir."

"Let me grab the rifle. Can you set it up?"

"I dunno. It's a bit heavy."

"Here, I'll set it on the sill. Just scoot up to it and get going."

"Yes sir."

"You think you can load a shot or you want me to do it?"

"I think I can."

"I'll hold it steady, just set the safety to the middle and pull the bolt back."

"Yes sir."

"Good, now just push it down into the magazine. The bolt will guide it into the chamber."

"Yes sir."

"All right, you're good to go."

"Yes sir."

"Now, where're you aiming?"

"Right behind the middle of the front shoulder where the heart and lungs are."

"Good. Remember: deep breath in, half a breath out, squeeze the trigger."

"Yes sir."

"Deep breath in."

"…"

"Half a breath out."

"…"

"Slowly squeeze the trigger."

"…"

"Safety still on?"

"No sir, it's all the way off. Just taking my time."

"No rush, he ain't spooked. Let's start again. Deep breath in."

"…"

"Half a breath out."

"…"

"And squeeze the trigger."

"…"

"You good?"

"I, uh… I- I'm scared of the recoil."

"I promise you it ain't gonna kick nearly as hard as that shotgun you shot clay pigeons with the other day. Having a rest is gonna help too."

"I'm still… I dunno."

"All good, all good."

"Pops, can we just watch it?"

"…"

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. Let's just watch it for a bit."

"Yes sir, thank you."

By AKA-M80. Forgive me that it's a tad longer than the others.

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Musings Shared Between Two Acquaintances Hurtling Toward a Dying Star

= Open

“It looks so big now.”

“It’s been a few hours.”

“You sure the fuel will last?”

“Yep.”

“…”

“…”

“I wonder how bright it’d be without the big window in the way.”

“Without it, we wouldn’t be there to see it.”

“Fair.”

“You find anyone else?”

“The rest of them jumped ship.”

“Figures. Waiting’s hard.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Even the captain checked out early.”

“Thought they were supposed to go down with the ship?”

“They wouldn’t have done that. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“…”

“…”

“You know, this is kind of like watching a sunrise.”

“I guess.”

By Spoddet. No commentary currently.

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