Chair the Ninth

[theabjectauthor]

... Goodness, but you're all musically inclined, today. [Lemony sits in the library, in a back corner, near the reading tables.] It makes it somewhat difficult for one to come up with the best strategy for reforming an ancient organization.

And yet, it's fitting, somehow. They were all quite fond of song, and expression ... once. Many years ago. Before ...

[he looks around the still library. the quiet place that usually brings him so much peace - now almost too quiet, too silent. in his solitude, for once, he feels an absence. the song creeps up on him quietly, but it settles. and it stays. and he sings.]


♬ There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on...
Empty chairs at empty tables:
Now my friends are dead and gone. ♪

♪ There they talked of revolution,
There it was, they lit the flame...
There they sang about tomorrow ...
And tomorrow.... never came. ♪

♩ From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
And I can hear them now!
The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion...
On a lonely barricade ... at dawn ... ♩

[he rises and moves to the window, looking out over the forest. it's not what he sees, in his mind's eye. in his mind, there are rooftops ablaze, theatres in chaos, mountain safeholds in ruin. ashes in the air. he puts a hand to the glass]

♪ Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me
That I live and you are gone...
There's a grief that can't be spoken,
There's a pain goes on and on...! ♪

♪ Phantom faces at the windows!
Phantom shadows on the floor...!
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends - will meet - no more... ♪

[there's a sudden burst of strength to his voice, a ferocity, but it doesn't last, and he turns away, unable to see what his memory shows him any longer, too angry at his own helplessness]

♪ Oh my friends, my friends - don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for...
Empty chairs at empty tables...
Where my friends... ♬

[he can't even finish.]

Comments

this song is on Percy's FST

[waterproofed]

[Percy quietly finishes the song]

Where my friends will sing no more...

[theabjectauthor]

[oh. the fact that Percy volunteered to finish for him just makes him cry a little more. it takes him a few moments to pull himself together enough to finish weeping, and wipe his eyes]

... Thank you.

[waterproofed]

Sorry, I didn't mean to butt in. Your song just reminded me of the war back home.

[theabjectauthor]

You --! [instantly, his own sorrows are forgotten] Percy, you never told me you were involved in a war.

1/??

[waterproofed]

[his tone is suddenly serious. Percy does not joke about this]

I guess it wasn't really that long ago. Kronos reformed himself by recruiting demigods to his army, and he was releaseing Titans. I... um. I accidentally released one of them myself. [guilty pause of guilt]

So anyway, Kronos and the Titans were after Olympus, which in my time is set on the six hundredth floor of the Empire State Building. All us demigods and the Hunters of Artemis gathered together to defend it. Kronos and Morpheus made sure none of the mortals would interfere by keeping them out of the Manhattan area.

[he pauses. It's still hard to talk about this. Even as he speaks he can see his beloved city at war]

2/??

[waterproofed]

[and as those image consume him, it becomes too overwhelimg to really put into words. So guess what he does instead]

I've seen the lights go out on Broadway
I saw the Empire State laid low
And life went on beyond the Palisades
They all brought Cadillacs
And left there long ago

They held a concert out in Brooklyn
To watch the island bridges blow
They turned our power down
And drove us underground
But we went right on with the show

[he can hear himself singing, but it's almost like someone else is doing it. A son of Apollo, maybe, performing at the campfire on that night after it was all over. The emotion in Percy's voice tells just how deeply this affects him]

I've seen the lights go out on Broadway
I saw the ruins at my feet
You know we almost didn't notice it
We'd seen it all the time on Forty-Second Street

They burned the churches up in Harlem
Like in the Spanish civil war
The flames were ev'rywhere
But no one really cared
It always burned up there before

3/??

[waterproofed]

I've seen the lights go out on Broadway
I've watched the mighty skyline fall
The boats were waiting at the battery
The union went on strike
They never sailed at all

They sent a carrier out on Norfolk
And picked the Yankees up for free
They said that Queens could say
They blew the Bronx away
And sank Manhattan out at sea

[his voice drops quiet now. There are actual tears in his eyes. It all ended well, but reliving it is still very emotional for him. He can see his parents asleep in their car, can feel the hopelessness of the situation. Beckendorf, Silena, Luke, so many young lives lost...]

You know those lights were bright on Broadway
That was so many years ago
Before we all lived here in Florida
Before the Mafia took over Mexico

There are not many who remember
They say a handful still survive
To tell the world about
The way the lights went out
And keep the memory alive

DONE /sobs

[waterproofed]

[there is a long silence after he finishes. He lets out a sniff and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. Whew, good thing no one actually saw him crying]

Uhmm.. S-sorry. I don't know where that all came from.

[theabjectauthor]

[he's quiet for a moment, as well, moved by both the music, and the fact that Percy would tell him about what happened]

There's no need to apologize. ... What happened? Were you able to defend the building...?

[ichy]

Which organization are you reforming?

[theabjectauthor]

[the sound of a stranger's voice in earnest curiosity... he sits in silence for a moment, composing himself. of course, he thinks, he would be reminded of their true purpose, now. when he misses them all the most. it's almost something to be thankful for]

One comprised of volunteers, who would strive to help their fellow residents by sharing their knowledge and their skills, both as a matter of course and in times of need.

[ichy]

I'm not familiar with this organization. [It's a vague description. If not for the mention of volunteers, he might have guessed it was Starfleet.] Does it have a name?

[theabjectauthor]

Yes, it is known as the V.F.D. Neither your voice nor your hand are familiar to me, sir - have we spoken before?

[ichy]

We haven't. What does "V.F.D." stand for?

[theabjectauthor]

It stands for several things, but originally? Its founding members were of the Volunteer Fire Department. The fires fought eventually became metaphorical as well as physical.

Lemony

[kungfuwitch]

[Phoebe's heart is in her throat as she listens. She feels like she's intruding on something personal... something she can completely understand. They've lost so many people through the years - innocents. Family. Loved ones.

Her sister... Her nephew... Cole... SHE'S even died once or twice, even though she's been lucky enough to come back each time so far. But it still hurts. A fresh wound for each loss. One new heartbreak. Her voice is soft, heavy with emotions as she dictates]

Lemony...

Mrs. Halliwell

[theabjectauthor]

... [he chokes back the last of his tears and sniffs, reaching for his handkerchief]

Yes?

Mr. Snicket

[kungfuwitch]

I'm sorry... I didn't mean to intrude but... I'm sorry.

[wow there really isn't anything else she can say is there?]

Mrs. Halliwell, to end

[theabjectauthor]

It's alright, I ... I'm not sure what came over me. Doubtless the singing itself was the castle's whim, but my grief ...

Well. I suppose it was bound to catch up with me eventually. Even if I had managed to skillfully elude it here for a sojourn.

[darn that pesky grief, always finding his best hiding places]

[kungfuwitch]

It was, yes. I've been told it's an April Fools' Day tradition... though it didn't do this last year.

[she pauses]

You know... if you ever want someone to talk to... [She lets her voice trail off, the offer hanging unfinished between them]

[is_mafia]

[Giotto almost shuts the journal on the song, because he knows what it was like to burst into song and have people listen.

But...

He can't. This song hits him too hard, when he thinks about all the people he had lost, those close to him. People he would never see again, never speak to again. People who had lost their families, their own friends, because of him and his. In the mafia there was always too much bloodshed, too much death. Even when things had been good, people had still died. And perhaps it wasn't always his fault, or entirely his fault, but he had contributed. He had contributed by organizing it, making it something big to fulfill his dream. To protect the people.

Somehow, he was sure he had failed when he couldn't even protect those close to him.]

Ah... [What was he even doing? Giotto had only met the man once. He shouldn't be intruding on his grief like this. But he couldn't stop now.] I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Snicket.

[theabjectauthor]

[he recognizes Giotto's voice from their encounter in the library, and is glad that there's a volunteer there with him, now. it's a reminder that it's not gone, that he hasn't lost everything, after all. even if he isn't M or R, his dear siblings, or his beloved Beatrice, Giotto is still a volunteer, and on that merit alone, very nearly a friend. he pulls himself together as best he can]

Thank you, Giotto... I ... Normally I try to keep my grief private, as it is a frequent visitor, but ... you have my apologies.

[is_mafia]

Don't apologize for something you couldn't control. [A pause when he thinks about what to say.]

...I know that grief as well.

[theabjectauthor]

Then you have my sympathies as well. ... And I hope you have not lost as many friends as I.

[is_mafia]

...I don't think I have. [He still had people to care about him at home. Lemony seemed to have...no one.] But the thing about this castle, is that it's a way to start fresh, meet people you would have never met.

[He hopes that's the case for Lemony, because...no one should have to be alone.]