![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Informal Formalities - [Action, semi-closed, backdated to November]
[Ted had given up on Jolly Eddy's for the same reason he quits most things: frustrated ideals and disgust at the ensuing vanity. One inventory of the office answering machine told him all he needed to know about how little they'd accomplished despite years of operation.
However, it's not as though Ted has better things to do. Once he wraps up his one or two bounties for the week, he has ample free time by himself. While reading was a constant pleasure, it couldn't satisfy the people-loving extrovert forever, even though his conscience instructed that for him, it might be more loving to leave the people alone.
The explicit meaning of the job was dead and gone; he knew that now. But ever since Namur said he missed him, he figured he might at least try for an implicit meaning--a kernel of significance in a wasteland of vanity. Why not spend as much time around his loved ones as he could before...before some separation. Some irreparable wrenching he intuitively anticipated would remove him from them forever.
Still, even the attempt had him feeling hollow and fake, as though he were melding with the rest of Genessia's illusions. If he had the job, he knew the vain atmosphere would reduce himself. Not other, but less. It'd be as though he were one of Everglade's ghosts merely haunting the place, but not truly living there. But then, even a half-presence must be superior to none at all. Anything was better than nothing, and he was far too familiar with nothing to not seek an alternative, no matter how faint and vaporous.
With reluctant resolve, he rang up Sync, whom he hadn't seen for a while. If naught else, it'd be nice to see the aloof young man again. His hopeful heart prayed that this would be the first of many meetings, even if they met about nothing.]
"Hello, Sync? Long time no see, eh? I'm at the agreed upon coordinates. Whenever you're ready."
However, it's not as though Ted has better things to do. Once he wraps up his one or two bounties for the week, he has ample free time by himself. While reading was a constant pleasure, it couldn't satisfy the people-loving extrovert forever, even though his conscience instructed that for him, it might be more loving to leave the people alone.
The explicit meaning of the job was dead and gone; he knew that now. But ever since Namur said he missed him, he figured he might at least try for an implicit meaning--a kernel of significance in a wasteland of vanity. Why not spend as much time around his loved ones as he could before...before some separation. Some irreparable wrenching he intuitively anticipated would remove him from them forever.
Still, even the attempt had him feeling hollow and fake, as though he were melding with the rest of Genessia's illusions. If he had the job, he knew the vain atmosphere would reduce himself. Not other, but less. It'd be as though he were one of Everglade's ghosts merely haunting the place, but not truly living there. But then, even a half-presence must be superior to none at all. Anything was better than nothing, and he was far too familiar with nothing to not seek an alternative, no matter how faint and vaporous.
With reluctant resolve, he rang up Sync, whom he hadn't seen for a while. If naught else, it'd be nice to see the aloof young man again. His hopeful heart prayed that this would be the first of many meetings, even if they met about nothing.]
"Hello, Sync? Long time no see, eh? I'm at the agreed upon coordinates. Whenever you're ready."