Author Topic: Out on the Courts (Conner) (Read 455 times)
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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 7, 2009 13:16:04 GMT -6 » 		Quote
My earliest memory of her?

Here is one I remember.

It was a moment where that happy shell she would always put up, the smiles and the giggles she always did during conversation, the often odd remarks she always said about the dumbest things, was just one part of herself she always presented to everyone. And when there was no one around, all of that would disappear without a trace.

It was during the weekdays, a few hours after school, where she would always retreat back to the Collective Grounds, and go over to the courts to play by herself. If it was occupied, she'd just watch from the nearby benches, just staring blankly, motionlessly, lacking that smile on her face. And when it finally emptied, she'd go onto the courts with a basketball in hand, just shooting baskets, not caring whether it hit or missed.

Those times by herself are often where she would spend hours on the court until curfew hit, never speaking to anyone. She was rarely approached, but that was only because she avoided the courts when there were people and spent her time elsewhere to avoid the crowds. To her friends, no one would have recognized her, but to everyone else, she would be another girl minding her own business.

That day, a few days before the Biological Sciences Seminar, the Collective Grounds weren't busy as it usually was, with many of the students heading out to San Diego or into Chula Vista just to party until the coming weekend. Like always, she was out on the courts, shooting baskets at the free throw line, but her score was rather dismal; for every seven baskets she shot at, she would only score two points. She didn't seem to notice or care about her score, but she concentrated so much on shooting, she couldn't really tell if anyone else was near her.

That is, until someone came up to her.

||The post has a melancholy feel to it, but just ignore it. Write as you would normally write.||

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 7, 2009 14:59:39 GMT -6 » 		Quote
Connor was doing a lot of mind clearing recently. He had been since his return to the states about a week or so ago. His trip to Japan had changed him, and he was feeling lost, alone, and confused. It made him finally realize what 'you must choose your own path' and 'find yourself within' meant. As much as he didn't like his former sensei, the man was right about a few things.

Connor needed to pass on from being a child.

He had no idea exactly how, all he knew was that he had to do something. He also wanted to deal with the problems coming up around him. But, for that he would need help. He shrugged that off currently, as he didn't need to distract himself from finding his way.

The school was emptying out. Fridays did that, and the students didn't exactly want to stick around longer than they had to. They retreated to their dorms or their apartments, planning for parties or the weekend in general. Connor had no desire for parties. Too much loud noise, too many people. No, he far preferred the quiet and the peace of the outdoors.

Knowing the jocks would be the first to leave, Connor made his way to the basketball courts. He pinned them to be the most quiet spot. The courtyard was usual the crowded meeting place for the end of the school week. The only sound was the single bouncing of the ball on the court, and the occasional shot. A lot of misses, a few sinking in. Connor could hear the bouncing, and the vibrations it gave off as he got closer revealed only a single person there.

Something else, too. He could 'feel' something. Not one to dismiss his feelings, but also not perfect at pinpointing exactly was it was, he just let himself be aware of it. He approached with his usual quiet, not disturbing the scene, and simply taking it all in. The feeling didn't go away, and he didn't know why, but he felt like he should talk to the person shooting the ball without care. Not just should, but he wanted to.

Though, at the same time, he felt he should be alone and thinking, he also knew he wasn't entirely happy being completely alone. Connor, though he enjoyed the company of someone else, was still not that good at approaching anyone. Nor was he sure exactly how to hold a decent conversation. He had little in the way of friends, and he briefly went over those relationships in his mind.

One was a good buddy, but sometimes the excitement and violence surrounding him were too much. One was good for a drink, and a toast, but he feared that one would get himself or others into trouble very quickly. The last, well... Connor was to blame for that on being rocky.

As he stood there, at the side of the court, he was faced with an opportunity, whether he was ready for it or not. The ball had bounced off the backboard at an angle the shot it just out of the reach of the one who threw it, and it headed right for Connor. If it had been rolling, he might have felt it, and stopped. it. If he had been focused, his detection of something airborne had improved to the point he might have caught it. He had trained his other senses very well.

But, he was not paying attention, and so the ball had bounced right off the backboard, and right at his head. The good news was that it snapped him out of his little wandering. Shaking it off, and hearing where the ball had gone, he walked over to it, picked it up, and headed to the person who was shooting moments before.

He extended the ball with one arm, rubbing his head with another. "I think this is yours." He greeted the person with a warm, open smile. Connor was, if nothing else, one of the most friendly people to come across. His hands were covered with the gloves he wore to keep the scars hidden from the world. His shades were in his pocket, thus his pale green eyes were visible. Though some found them creepy, and so he was not adverse to covering them should anyone feel uncomfortable. Even blind, he could still feel the discomfort of someone around him. He hated to make someone feel like that.

he let them take the ball, and turned his hand, leaving it extended. "I'm Connor. Pleased to meet you, though less abrupt circumstances might have been nice." Again he grinned to show no animosity, and that he found the humor in the situation.

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 8, 2009 10:43:27 GMT -6 » 		Quote
That young man's name was Connor.

She didn't notice him at first, her focus solely concentrated on the ball. Even if he were to make a little bit of noise, chances are she wouldn't hear it. But when she fired off a shot that struck the backboard and bounced off, she followed it by sight and was about to run for it until it struck her only spectator, Connor, off the court.

She was a little surprised, considering her absentmindedness and focus, but she didn't let it show. Watching him go over and return with the flightless ball, handing it over to her. She took it as usual, noticing the color of his eyes, but only thinking of it as contacts. Whether she knew about his disability, she probably didn't care, or she was too wrapped up in her own mind to even think of it. Either way, she still treated him normally, just as she would any other person.

"Thanks." She said with a slight laugh, bouncing it on the court a few times before taking a shot from her current position. It missed, but it bounced roughly towards her direction, catching it before it flew beyond her reach.

"My name's Sylvia, but you can call me Sylvie or Miss Hart if you want. It doesn't matter." She said, holding the ball firmly just as she took another shot, "Besides, I'm a little surprised you came since people normally come here at the end of the week. It's my usual spot when I want to be by myself, just practicing my free throws, I guess. You'd think that I would be practicing for the girls' basketball team, but not really. It's just the time where I just think about things seriously here, like what happened in the past week, or what happened a few months ago, just by myself. Only a few people know I'm really here, and I guess you're one of that few today now."

She ran over to the ball, grabbing it before taking a spot near Connor, taking another shot. This time, she just let the ball bounce towards him.

"So, since I explained why I'm here, want to have your turn?" She asked kindly with a smile, stopping herself before going to a full one-sided conversation, "Or I could go all day if you want me to. Just listening is a perfectly good reason to me."

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 9, 2009 10:07:52 GMT -6 » 		Quote
Connor was a listener. Being blind, one doesn't do much more than that. But with listening so much, you can decipher the tones in the voice, and read things which cause people to believe you have other-wordly powers. Connor had no such powers, but he was ace at reading people. The girl, who had been so quiet a moment ago (granted, being alone one does not usually speak aloud) upon meeting some stranger in a violent school open up and spoke to him in a most friendly manner. Maybe a little nervous at having someone appear so abruptly? Apologetic for having accidentally hit him with the ball?

Could be any number of things, and Connor wasn't about to make a judgment call on someone within the first few second of meeting them. Instead, he would simply enjoy the momentary peace, and some friendly company.

"Well, I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good." Connor waved his hand in front of his eyes a few times, not a flinch or a blink. "Not like I can see the basket." He smiled, not shy about his condition. "Though, if you don't mind the company, I could join you while you play." He grinned. "And, regardless who you do, it's not like I can see to judge." He chuckled, and took a spot near her which would allow them to talk, and her to shoot unhindered.

"Sylvia is a very pretty and unique name." Should this develop into a strong friendship, then Connor would feel more comfortable calling her Sylvie. For now, he'd leave it a little more formal. "So, you come here because it's quiet. I try to find a small bit of peace myself." He indicated the school. "It's a bit to crowded and noisy there, and finding some bit of quiet at the end of the day lets me clear my head." He scratched his head.

"I figured this place might be empty, so I headed here. Though being alone helps, the company of maybe one other person is far better than a crowd." He smiled again, and listened to the bounce and shot of the ball. She was apathetic with her play on the court, not really practicing like she was trying for the team. It was more just to give some kind of motion. Something to do more than just sit inside her head. Connor envied that ability a little, though he had grown to live without it. Still, there were times he wished he was, for lack of a better term, 'normal.'

Normal is overrated. Suichi's words echoed in his head, and with another thought, Connor pushed them away. His former sensei was the last person he wished to think about.

"So, do you wish to share your thoughts? Sometimes an open ear and a person to talk to works wonders." His warm smile could be disarming, as was his general mannerism. He had a friendly aura about him, and he liked that at least now, people seemed to enjoy his presence. Well, at least he thought they did.

Sylvia seemed like she was sweet, and he hoped he would make a new friend this day.

« Last Edit: Oct 19, 2009 20:40:45 GMT -6 by connor » Back to Top  
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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 9, 2009 19:02:44 GMT -6 » 		Quote
||Narrator Bias and Limited Knowledge. Ignore the first two paragraphs if they seem very contradictory. Ignore any weird symbols you come across too. :)||

Sylvia is, as Sylvia always was, and that when she was alone, she tended to act more reserved around others, maybe thinking of something that she regretted doing, or an embarrassing moment she could only cringe on. Whatever it was, she would always keep to herself, not letting a single secret of hers escape.

That day, however, she was a little bit annoyed even before Connor arrived. Perhaps that was why she accumulated all those misses, perhaps that was why she felt a little angry at herself and others, or perhaps she was thinking about something about the past, the one she always spoke of as if she was outside that story. Maybe that sweet girl she always presented and her apathist self, was it real or just a figure of everyone else's imagination?

Whether she felt wasn't a concern, for her attention was divided between her conversation with Connor, and her useless fight with the basket. She acted normally, despite hearing of Connor's disability, and said, "Sure, but only if it's you and not a certain guy I know. I'm sure he thinks really badly of me, but I guess it's what I get for pushing him too much I suppose. He is my tutor, after all, and I give him a lot of trouble."

"But maybe that's another benefit of being in a quiet place with no one around. You can definitely hide or avoid someone if they really hate your guts." She said with a laugh, "And I agree. Best place you need to be when you need to clear your head. But it'd definitely be better if you can see the basket."

Still, that laughter of hers faded shortly.

She said, "But maybe I'm thinking too much today. To be honest, I kind of have a bad memory. *It's hard for me to remember things from few days ago, much less anything from the past. My parents said I never had the problem before, so it's kind of a surprise for them*; it's probably just me."

She said while, probably, shooting a basket, "That's probably why I was never any good with names, so I usually called people by what their most unique thing about them was. I guess that makes you the 'Really Nice Blind Guy'. But I'd like to remember names properly for once, instead of having to shuffle through my head and figure it all out in a few seconds."

She looked at him, pausing for a moment, "Oh, and thank you for the compliment Mr. Nice Blind Guy, I don't get many people that say that about my name. But, how do I say it? *I'm not even sure it's my name. There's just a weird feeling that comes every time I hear it. It's hard to explain, but it's kind of like that feeling where you're not really attached to it, that it doesn't really belong to you. but it does. Everyone in my family told me that was really my name, but I don't really know. Still, I'd like to change my name at least once.* Just for kicks I guess."

She threw a basket from the three point mark, but missed, I believe.

"Do you mind if I asked you something, since you're here and all?" She asked, briefly waiting for Connor's acknowledgment, "How does it really feel to remember something from a long time ago? Like from your childhood, or the first time you entered primary or even middle school? Or even something that really embarrassed you? Mind telling me?"

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 11, 2009 20:08:43 GMT -6 » 		Quote
The girl was definitely friendly. Connor didn't pick up and kind of pretend with this. She was genuine, or at least appeared to be. He also agreed with her, about finding quiet spots for clearing one's mind, or avoiding people. She continued to shoot, but he knew her attention was able to be split. She was much less concerned with shooting, and more with holding intelligent conversation.

He smiled at the nickname she had given him. "Well, I have been called much worse. Mr. Nice Blind Guy will certainly do." He felt for her. Having a disability himself, he could sympathize. However, for one to not be able to remember thing... that was just unfair. He was quickly reminded that there were those out there far worse of than he.

She wanted to know what it was like to remember things. Connor got thoughtful for a moment. He had been living in his head for a while now, and living in the memories most recently created. He had come here to escape that. Talking with her now, he believed that maybe he should wish to forget. His experiences helped him grow.

"I don't mind at all. What is it like to remember? I am afraid there is no one answer to that." He smiled at her, and faced her fully. "There is no one feeling associated to remembering. Each memory brings something different." He thought for a moment. "When I think back about my mother, I feel happy. Before she passed, I can remember how caring she was. How she never seemed to get angry about anything." He felt a tear start to form, but he brushed it away.

"Then, I remember how much I miss her, and I feel some pain. Some memories I have bring up more than emotional pain. They bring up physical pain." With that, he could feel his hands hurting, as a flash of his crucifixion came and went. He rubbed his hands subconsciously, till the phantom pain passed. "As for embarrassing, well... I haven't really been embarrassed before. I have felt nervous before though. Meeting new people, moving from New York to here. Change and something new can be a little, well, scary at times."

He smiled. "But, then I create new memories. Like the time I met a sweet girl on the basketball court after school." He smiled, and hoped his answer was helpful to her.

He was curious though. "Um, if it's not too personal, I am kind of curious what it's like to have a hard time remembering. How do you go through the day or a week without being able to remember things?"

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 13, 2009 17:53:28 GMT -6 » 		Quote
She said.

But there was a part of her that surprised me.

That was when she listened to Connor speaking, intently listening to him speak about his past, about his memories, what it felt like to lose, what it felt like to remember, and the significance of his mother in each one. The difficulty of adjusting and the mention of embarrassing memories, it was easy to think Sylvia would be just smiling through, taking little heed without truly paying attention.

However, as she listened, her smile began to fade, knowing that he wouldn't notice. It wasn't clear what she thought of it, but when she kept the ball firmly against her stomach, she watched him, noticing Connor wipe his eyes before he continued. She smiled at his reference to her, and, when he finished, listened to his question. It was a lot like hers, except with a meaning opposite to her own.

She smiled, even if he couldn't see it.

"I hate to say it, but I don't really know how. I guess there are some things your brain remembers, but you just don't know it." She said with a half-hearted smile, grasping the ball firmly, poised to shoot, "It's not anything severe - that's what my parents kept telling me and I'm probably just exaggerating it - but that's probably why I have such a hard time at school. I can barely remember anything except for a few details; not really helpful if a test comes up."

When she shot the ball, she just stood there, watching it sink into the basket.

"I guess the best way to describe the feeling is...it's a lot like being lost, I guess." She started, "Everywhere I go, the same familiar faces look new to me, the same buildings I go to and keep getting lost in; I don't even remember where my own locker is anymore, unless I keep it on a note close by; sometimes I forget even that. Only when it's something really, really important or when I try really hard to know it, that's when I can recall it, but it's not easy. Doing that for everything is nearly impossible for me. Even when I write notes."

She paused momentarily, "I wish I could remember my family the same way you could; what it's like to be there, to know what it feels like inside, to be able to recall voices, or even a little picture. I'm really glad you have thoughtful memories of your mother, so at least, I know what it feels like to lose someone important." She said, "But that's the closest I can get. *Because, the only memories of my family are just words. Just a long line of words that I'm supposed to memorize. Just like a story."*

She walked to the ball, *"It's terrible playing make-believe, making up stories about what you think happened, thinking that they're real, when you don't really know, right?"*

She picked it up, just about to pass to Connor when she realized it, "In the end, it becomes really easy to get through the day. All I have to do is-"

Just stop, Setsuna. Just st-

But she couldn't even recall that, so she simply laughed at it. She bounced the ball hard on the pavement, focusing on the sound until she calmed down, then shot the ball at the basket above. Only, it missed the basket and bounced off to the grass.

"I guess I forgot." She said with a forced smile as she ran after the ball, and walked over to him, "How was...your mother like? Do you mind telling me?"

||Just ignore the line where Setsuna's name is mentioned. That takes place in a different time frame as with his thoughts in First-Person.||

« Last Edit: Oct 14, 2009 12:59:10 GMT -6 by connor » Back to Top  
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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 13, 2009 19:36:16 GMT -6 » 		Quote
OOC: I am very much enjoying your writing style. You have a very complex and deep character here. Nicely done. ^_^

Lost. Connor was familiar with that feeling, though under different circumstances. Having to deal with blindness was one thing, but if he had a memory failure like that... well, it's hard to count steps, or familiarize oneself with the layout of a building if you couldn't remember it when you were getting around.

"It's terrible playing make-believe, making up stories about what you think happened, thinking that they're real, when you don't really know, right?"

"I would imagine it would be. I give you a lot of credit. I don't know if I could manage through a single day if I were you."

She said it wasn't all that hard, but then laughed off the end, not fully finishing the sentence. She said she forgot. He figured it was either that, or something she didn't really wish to share. Either way, Connor didn't point it out.

She asked what his mother was like. He smiled. Though her loss was painful, memories of her were pleasant. He shook his head, indicating he didn't mind. "My mother, Sorcha, was a gentle woman. She and my father moved to the us from Ireland, and had me here. I don't remember my father, as he passed before I could get to know him. My mother missed him, but she was always so happy around me. She was a single mom, trying to raise a child with a disability. Not an easy thing to do, especially given her line of work."

"She was a researcher. Both my parents were. Some kind of scientists, though she never went into too much detail about it. Anyway, she did everything she could to provide for me. No matter how hard she worked, or what she had to do, she was always there for me."

He smiled. "She was a beautiful woman. I can't judge people by there looks, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I know she was beautiful, because of her heart." He let a tear fall, as the memory of her inevitably came to her loss. "I don't know how other people remember things. Maybe with pictures, or sights they can relate back to. Me, I have the dark. But sounds, the way something feels or smells... that I can recall." Another tear, and it was almost like he didn't notice.

"I remember the feeling when she was taken from me. The sound of her passing. She was... killed. Right in front of me." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "The man was arrested, and maybe I should have moved on by now. It's been several years. But, I guess I can't yet." He did smile, facing Sylvia.

He realized he was crying a little, and turned red with embarrassment. He didn't mean to break down in front of anyone, especially someone he had just met. "Sorry." He said, as he wiped the wet from his face. "I just hope she'd be happy with who I've become. And I wish that when I was little, I hadn't given her such a hard time."

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 14, 2009 12:56:57 GMT -6 » 		Quote
||Thanks! It's really hard trying to reveal only a bit at a time, but maybe once I get a storyline-thread up, I can finally shed some light about her.||

That was when he started his recollection.

His mother...was an amazing woman. The way Connor spoke of her, the events she endured during his growing up, the places they traveled to before his birth, the sudden death of his father, their occupations, but most of all, his impression of her, despite his disability. His mother was beautiful; not because of her appearance, not purely because of what she did, but because it came from her heart. That, a gentle and hard-working widow could do so much and be remembered so well...

She couldn't fathom what it was like to know someone like her, and so she entertained notions of make-believe as she always did. And perhaps, that was why she too felt the brunt of emotional pain, when she heard about her death. It was unreal to her naturally, but she was sad just the same.

Connor's words became difficult to speak, and his eyes too felt the presence of tears. She felt a great deal of sorrow, but was probably amazed at how a memory could still affect someone...even after a period of time. There was emotion, maybe a sense of physical pain, but most importantly, it drove him to tears. With that optimistic hope that his mother would be happy with who he was, she smiled at it, feeling her sense of helplessness lift.

She kept the ball close to her, hugging it against her stomach, imagining it as best she could. A mother who cared for her family despite difficult times, someone who was gentle, someone who understood. Only to be taken away.

A frown appeared. She couldn't, perhaps, imagine any more beyond that.

*Her world was always perfect, after all. Just like a story.*

She turned to him, trying to find the words, opening her lips without a single sound. And just when she was about to shoot, her hands fell limp and the ball slipped from her fingers, bouncing away on the ground.

"Remember." She suddenly said, surprised at the memory, "Just remember."

A period of stillness. She tried to say something more, but the shock of the memory silenced her. She couldn't figure out what it meant, but if she recalled it, was there more to it? Or was that all?

After a few brief minutes, she said optimistically, "I wish I could remember details like that about my mother. Or anyone else. She sounds like someone amazing, someone who I would definitely want to meet at least once. If I ever lost her, I really wouldn't know what to do. I'm not even sure if I would do anything; maybe just cry in my room all alone..."

She picked up the ball, "But I'll never really know, *until I either remember it, or experience it myself.*"

She turned to him smiling, her tone lighter than before, "I'm really sorry for what happened, but I'm still really jealous of you, being able to remember someone like that. I bet if she was that amazing, she would always be happy for who you've become, no matter what. Just as long as it isn't something...really, really bad. Like beating up on weaker people. Or always being depressed. Or stuff like that."

She clasped the ball tightly, "And I bet, that if she was amazing, then you're amazing too."

She then shot the ball, only for it to miss the basket by a couple of inches. She cringed at the miss.

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 15, 2009 16:49:19 GMT -6 » 		Quote
He listened to her, and her words helped to ease the pain he felt. His mother was one of those people you'd feel forever changed just to have a passing conversation with. She was wonderful, and Connor felt very lucky to have had her as his mother. To hear that Sylvia wish she could have met the woman who raised Connor, it made him feel a bit warmer.

And I bet, that if she was amazing, then you're amazing too."

Those words made him blush, and hard. He wasn't used to compliments like that, and so hearing words of kindness or praise like that caused him to feel a bit shy and very humble. "Th-thanks, but I don't think there is anything that amazing about me." He shrugged. He didn't have the highest self esteem in the world, though he didn't reside on the self loathing end, either. He was just, well, Connor.

The balled bounced once, then again, and finally ended up beside him. He picked it up, and poised to shoot. "My life isn't exactly what you might call exciting. I like simple things, like music or a nice walk somewhere. Like going out at night. That's when I feel most connected. When it's dark and quiet." He shot the ball, and...

...

missed.

It fell short, bounce, hit a half-wall behind the basket, and began it's roll back to them. He grinned, and faced her again. "You didn't expect me to actually make it, did you?" He waved his hand in front of his eyes, and chuckled.

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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 16, 2009 12:20:09 GMT -6 » 		Quote
It wasn't clear what happened onward. The memory of that place was fuzzy, but there was one more thing that Sylvia spoke often. The time spent in that court was probably her favorite bit of memory she maintained through earnest concentration and effort. It was something insignificant, but it meant a lot to her. It was because, whether or not he knew it, that was actually the first time she ever recalled being in the basketball court with someone.

Her thoughts about Connor's mother reached him and touched him deeply, being modest about the compliment while reasoning out the why of the equation. His was someone simple, someone plain, someone who liked the simple joys of life from a music to a nice walk, at night when it was quiet. Those would spark another interest in those things, vaguely remembering the dreadful classes, the stare of hostile teachers, and the eventual boredom of it all.

Perhaps, that was why she didn't want to remember about school; *having been trapped in one as far back as she could remember.* And even that, those were just fragments.

She watched him take the basketball, get into position and aim at where the basket was, took a pose, ready to shoot. He launched and with it, Sylvia hoped he would get it in; another amazing trait she could add to the list. But as it soared, higher and higher, her hope reaching its peak just before descent. It was close, only a few more inches...

And it never made it.

She sighed, her expectations were betrayed by reality, and she laughed along with him, taking in the light-hearted nature of their conversation; its earlier atmosphere that of regret. She commented, "But at least you were almost there! Just shift a little to the side with a little more force, and it would have sunk in. Still, that's amazing, being able to shoot without seeing the basket. Really amazing."

She waited until the ball was nearby before taking it, "But to be honest, I don't think I've ever gotten out of this school, or if I had, I don't remember. Either way, I don't remember the last time I had fun, or if I did, I forgot to write it down somewhere. It'd be nice, taking a walk at night. My tutor told me this once, when he was speaking to one of his friends."

She thought deeply, trying to remember, "The simplest pleasures are always the best."

"I guess, since I haven't done anything exciting either, I'm probably just the same as you. Just with more holes in my memory than normal. It would be nice, not having to have an excuse just to have fun; that's probably why my friends usually tell me to stop or something; I'm always, apparently, acting like a spoiled little girl around them."

She smiled at it, "It'd be nice, doing that once in a while."

She looked at the ball, then at Connor, and walked up to him, handing him the ball gently. She stood behind him, ready in position and said, "Why don't you take another shot? This time, I'll be here just to help guide you. Try it! I'll be right here behind you, ready to help."

« Last Edit: Oct 16, 2009 12:21:40 GMT -6 by connor » Back to Top  
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Out on the Courts (Conner)
« Oct 19, 2009 20:39:31 GMT -6 » 		Quote
He smiled brightly. The conversation turned to a much more pleasant and upbeat tone. He thought about taking a walk with her. How it would be to share the company of someone on a nice, quiet night. He had that at one point, and for now he would be happy with a friend. Someone he could hang out with. He just couldn't risk having what happened with Berlin happen to someone else. Connor wasn't ready for that.

The words of her tutor rung true. It was something his own mentor had told him on many occasions. "I'll second that. Your tutor's words are very wise." He smiled at her. "I would love to walk with you some night. I think it could be fun. You should take a break and relax a little. That, and I'd really enjoy your company." He couldn't be more sincere. Sylvia was a kind, sweet girl. He was already pleased to have met her today, and to hang out with her again would be fun.

"And regardless what your other friends say, you don't seem a bit spoiled to me. Then again," he grinned. "I 'see' things a little differently than most." The comment of 'other' friends implied that he, too, was a friend of hers now. He hoped he wasn't implying too much.

She handed him the ball, which confused him until she spoke. She wanted him to try again. Honestly, he had not done it for any real reason. But, according to her, he had come close. He heard before where she had sunk the ball, and from where his shot had bounced, where he had to shoot to make it in. He hadn't planned on shooting again.

But, she seemed really eager to have him try again, and had been excited with how close he got. So, he didn't argue. He simply nodded in agreement, and positioned himself again.

She was close, and helped him to adjust, giving him instruction and support. When he was ready, he released the ball exactly as she instructed. The ball left his hands, and became invisible to him once more. He still had trouble detecting people or objects that were airborne, so he just waited for it to come down somewhere, expecting it to fall short, or too high, or too much to either side. He was never good at throwing objects, be it in martial arts or sports.

What he heard surprised him. He heard the sound of rubber on metal, then a gentle swish. The ball, it seemed, had hit the rim, and sunk into the basket. At least, it sounded like it. He couldn't be sure, for obvious reasons.

He was nervous. He had not played a sport in school. He simply went by her words, and so he stood there, wondering what happened. "D-did it go in?"

OOC: I hope that assuming she would be guiding him was not assuming too much. If she does it with just words, or actually guides him physically, that is fine. If not at all, let me know, and I'll re-write. ^_^

« Last Edit: Oct 19, 2009 20:43:18 GMT -6 by connor » Back to Top  
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« Oct 23, 2009 14:48:08 GMT -6 » 		Quote
||It's perfect! :) ||

And with Sylvia's prodding, he continued once more, this time with Sylvia's assistance. She helped him get into position and corrected any errors she could see with his form and his aim, but the chances of him getting a shot in was low, remarkably low. He could not see the basket. He could not judge distances. He could not intuitively know how much force to apply. The lack of sight would make this nearly an impossible shot, even with prior knowledge of where the basket might be due to his position.

All he had were Sylvia's guiding words and actions.

And what happened next, was exciting to her.

Sylvia's instruction, however unreliable it may be, couldn't have been the deciding factor; the fact that she had a low score rate earlier was testament to that. It must have either been luck or sheer skill, or both, that caused the ball to fly and land just in the center of the ball, barely hitting the metal rim as it landed. Her breath was held when he made the shot, and when it fell through, she couldn't contain her excitement.

She grabbed his hands and jumped up and down like a schoolgirl, saying, "It went in! It really did go in, Connor!"

After that brief moment, she let go of his hands, "See! I told you you were amazing! You just need to trust yourself more! And, maybe, need a little bit of help just to get you going! But still, that was definitely you making that shot! You really are amazing!"

The excitement of that shot couldn't simply disappear in a matter of minutes. She was, in that moment, absolutely happy that he made that shot. She probably knew the chances unconsciously and the impossibility of such a shot; maybe that was why she was so excited over it.

That was the first time she finally realized that the impossible could be beaten.

She stopped all of her yelling and jumping and frantic schoolgirl excitement, and calmed herself down somewhat, as best as she could. She then whispered something to herself, quiet and unassuming, loud enough for Connor to hear, even if she didn't realize it.

"I guess...the impossible really isn't so impossible after all." She said, *"Maybe one day, I'll finally be able to remember everything...one day..."*

She then went after the ball again and held onto it, remembering what Connor said earlier before he took the shot. She wanted to ask if he had any free time this week, but before she could say anything, her watch started beeping. She couldn't remember what that sound was for, but after a few seconds of thought, she realized what it meant.

She closed it.

"I guess I have to go and get math lessons from my tutor right now." She said disappointed, "My grades aren't that good and...um...that really smart guy is helping me with it. It'd be easier if I could remember the rules for, um, algebra? That's it. I wish my tests were all open book..."

She decided to give Connor a chance, in case he wanted to ask anything, "Well, is there anything you want to ask me before I leave?"

« Last Edit: Oct 23, 2009 14:49:27 GMT -6 by connor » Back to Top  
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« Oct 25, 2009 16:06:10 GMT -6 » 		Quote
It... went... in?


He might not of believed it, save for her reacting to it like he had just won a tournament. Her excitement made him blush, and all he could do was smile for the moment. She had taken his hands, and congratulated him many times. He grinned, and accepted the compliments. For the moment, he felt really good.

Her words ran deep, and that was where he truly felt good. It sounded like she had hope. Really had hope. He spoke to her with a gentle tone, but one that held much wisdom. "There is no such thing as impossible. Only improbable. Everything can be overcome." He wished he knew how to help her, and felt a strong desire to do so. But, he had no idea how to overcome massive and repetitive memory loss. He also had a feeling there was little he could research about it.

His thoughts were interrupted with the beeping, and she sounded sad that she had to leave. Truthfully, he wasn't looking forward to going home. Though, he did have his pet to look after. Still, he had enjoyed her company very much, and hoped they could meet again.

"Well, is there anything you want to ask me before I leave?"

Connor's eyes met hers, and he nodded. "Yes. There is." He smiled. "Are you busy all week, or can we get together again?" He didn't know why he hadn't gotten nervous. Maybe because he was simply asking to get together with a friend rather than something more. "I had a good time, and I'd like to meet up with you when you are free."

He indicated the direction of the boy's dorms. "I live on campus. I am sure that if you headed over there and asked for the 'Nice Blind Guy,' they'd know who you were asking for." He chuckled. Nice blind guy. He didn't mind that at all.

Whether she took note of his address or not, or maybe gave him hers, it didn't matter. So long as they hung out again, then he'd be happy.

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« Oct 25, 2009 20:45:06 GMT -6 » 		Quote
He asked. And the answer was already decided even before he said anything.

The thought of having a fun time by herself, without her friends harping above her, gave her something to look forward to. A once-in-a-lifetime chance was what this almost looked like despite its simplicity, and she was excited for it; she would show it, if she hadn't wasted all her energy celebrating Connor's victorious shot, but she compensated by answering a resounding 'yes' to his question.

"I'm free tomorrow at the weekend, since my tutor's going to be busy in the next few days. He's going to give me three times the work since he'll be attending some seminar of his, but it won't be anything too hard...I hope. So any time tomorrow is perfectly fine with me!" She said happily, "Oh, and I also live on campus too! I don't know if anyone will remember me, but I guess if you ask about the...Psychotic Kendo Girl's roommate...that'll be me.

Yet, when she recalled part of her memory problem, the faces of her friends were barely kept in her mind, with her acquaintances being nothing more than strangers. The thought of forgetting about him didn't sit well with her, so she concentrated on remembering him, but like he said, maybe a perfect memory tag would be the nickname she had given him earlier.

The Nice Blind Guy.

Nice. Concise. Sufficient. Descriptive. That was enough to remember him by. Hopefully, that itself would be enough.

Still, remembering how bad her memory was - really amazing that she knows she has a bad memory - she searched her pockets for a pencil and something to write with, finding a small pencil and a small piece of tissue left over from somewhere. Using her left hand as a table, she was prepared to write down whatever Connor had in mind.

Her handwriting wasn't the best, of course, but it would have to do.

"So, when and where do you want to meet tomorrow?" She said, waiting to eagerly take notes.

« Last Edit: Oct 25, 2009 20:45:57 GMT -6 by connor » Back to Top  
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« Nov 3, 2009 15:28:57 GMT -6 » 		Quote
He had expected her to turn him down, though politely. She was sweet, and Connor was used to being turned away. However, not only did she answer yes, he had detected a bit of excitement there. Not only that, but she even suggested they meet tomorrow.

He smiled, not having thought she would want to see him at all, let alone so soon after today. He heard her tell him she too was on campus, and she fished something that sounded like a paper out of her pocket. After asking him where and when, he paused for a moment.

He wasn't sure what to say, exactly. He had never made plans before, so this was new for him. "Um, right after school would be fine. And, I could meet you here. Then we could figure out the rest of the day together." He smiled, the thought of having some company after dealing with the school bullies and staff seemed very refreshing.

He heard her jot everything down, and then, he didn't know what else there was to do. He didn't exactly wish to depart, but he knew he had to get back to his dorm room to feed his pet. He also had a few assignments he had to work on. He decided to be poetic, as literature and music were in him.

"Alas, parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow." He smiled, took her hand like a gentlemen of old, and bowed. "I look forward to meeting with you again, Sylvia. Till then, take care." With that, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and released it, and made his way in the direction of his dorm room.

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« Nov 3, 2009 19:53:01 GMT -6 » 		Quote
||Yay! My first finished thread! :)||

After she took all the notes she needed, it took a bow and a slight hand squeeze, and it was time for Connor to make his exit.

She wanted to say something more, but as he turned around, heading back, she decided against it. Her appointment with her tutor was nearing, and she needed to be there as early as she possibly could; the last few times, she was more than an hour late, which tested her tutors' patience to no end. It was decided then that if she didn't show up in at least ten minutes past their allotted time, he would leave the Fremont Building and get back to his work. Which was very, very important, especially to his thesis regarding the involvement of a special retrovirus as a possible vector for use in gene therapy.

That was why it was absolutely necessary for her to head back. Now.

She was probably already imagining what would happen after school tomorrow, hoping that it would be just as eventful and interesting as today. After all that, she didn't want to forget their meeting, or lose that note just in case. She would work hard making sure she would be here in time, and hopefully, on tomorrow.

With that, when Connor was just about out of sight, she was about to turn around and head out of the basketball court.

Until she stopped, staring at Connor's back.

She stood there, frightened, her eyes showing hints of surprise, of unfamiliarity, and of unbridled fear. She unconsciously dropped the ball to the floor, *staring at something*, the offending image probably deep in her mind. She raised her hand out in front of her, reaching out at something, clenching with her fingers, but only grabbing air.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

After several seconds passed, she shook her head, regaining her own awareness of the real world. She looked surprised at where she was, but after a few moments of recollection, she whispered to herself.

"What was that?" She said, unsure of what just happened. She didn't quite understand it, but she treated it lightly, ignoring it as she picked up the ball and left for Fremont.

It was just one of those things she had gotten used to now.

At least, that was how I understood it.
END THREAD
_____________________________________________________

~Meanwhile, in New York...

Our next lead took us to the name of a researcher named Sudakar Rahjad, a professor in O'Hare University who held a Ph.D in Biology and Genetics. There were few details on him, save for his academic experience, that were on his file. There was at least one count of shop-lifting when he was thirteen years old and one count of domestic violence ten years ago, but nothing else of importance was there.

It seemed he was an exemplary citizen, someone who didn't let his past influence the course of his future.

Yet, that name were the last words of a dying merrow.

I sat in the conference room, reading over the brief profile Sylvia compiled for my benefit. It had been a few days since the big sting operation, and I was glad that most of it was already over. A part of it nagged at me, leaving me restless and a bit impatient. I couldn't sit still and wait for results, not with what we were told.

Ha! That's a nice joke. You think that's the person responsible? I'll tell you. He's dead! All of them are dead! You think you've got something! You've got nothing! Nothing!

He was only half-right; we were back to square one, but we had a lead.

"What do you think of Dr. Rahjad? Nice guy, right?" Sylvia said, dipping a black tea bag into her boiled water, "Learned his lesson; did his time; didn't commit any more crimes and ended up with a Doctorate in two fields. Amazing, right?"

"Maybe, but it's not that interesting." I said truthfully. Compared to the people we've met lately, he seemed like someone normal, if a bit on the extraordinary side.

"That's the best kind of interesting." She said, playing around with the teabag, "Much of his record is based around Southern California, but did you notice anything else?"

I checked his profile.

Born in Kolkata, India in October 4th, 1961, he emigrated to the United States in San Diego in 1970. He studied in East Briston Middle and High School, being a remarkable student despite his earlier juvenile record of being a delinquent. He then moved on to San Diego State University and earned a Bachelor and Masters degree in Biology and Genetics, then moved out of state to Washington State University, earning a Ph.D in both fields. He married in 1992 to Tamasa Kaur, had a younger daughter named Ishana Rahjad, and was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in Science in the same year for his work.

Afterward, he accepted a job in New York with Ernest & Brians Pharmaceuticals, leaving his family in San Diego, only to be charged with domestic violence 48 hours later. Afterward, Sudakar was acquitted of the charge with Tamasa Kaur declared mentally ill, their daughter under Sudakar's custody. He has since then been working for that company ever since, researching in San Diego and Chula Vista.

There wasn't anything unusual I could see. It was sad to see a family break up, of course, but at this point, I couldn't really care; it was just another sad story of his life, abbreviated neatly for my convenience.

However, Sylvia saw something here I couldn't see at first. I checked it carefully, gazing through every detail I could find. I decided to focus on the company, since the name wasn't at all familiar.

"Is it Ernest & Brians Pharmaceuticals?"

"Exactly."

I was lucky.

She continued, "Ernest-Brians is a company that deals with heavy research into biotechnology and drugs; they're usually affiliated with the major pharmaceutical companies, but they've closed operations out of lack of funding." Sylvia explained, "The thing is, Dr. Rahjad was employed by Ernest-Brians about 10 years ago, right? Back in 1999?"

I confirmed it.

"Well, the company closed operations back in 1988. A full 11 years before his employment." She sipped her tea, "But that's not all. Did you read over the domestic violence count?"

I nodded, "That was in San Diego, 48 hours after he left for New York after being employed by that company. It's a little unusual why she would file that against him, but it's not that strange, considering people nowadays."

"Let's think for a moment: She was declared mentally ill. It's possible that in the last 7 years of their relationship, he was the one taking care of her, being very mindful of his wife's disorder. They could have had their fights and this one could have, unfortunately, gone over the edge. From there, the usual case of spouses arguing for custody over the child occurs, but with her being in a mental hospital, he won custody over Ishana. And from then on, happily ever after, right?" She said.

"That's possible and plausible." I said, agreeing with her analysis of the situation.

"But there's a problem; it's with the eyewitness reports." She said, swirling her fingers over her cups' rim, "All of them do not match up in the general sense. I couldn't print them out fully in time, but here's the short version: One friend of his thinks their relationship was just fine; an old guy who worked with him when he was a kid thinks they were a little crazy; another family around the block thinks they were just very private; a neighbor says that he was abusive toward his wife and children; and a friend of hers says she's been constantly battered after they were married."

"They don't really match up well." I said, "Their own friends obviously defended them. It could make sense under the right situat-"

"But there is one factor that they all agree on: That Tamasa Kaur was completely sane." She said, sipping her tea, "Of course, she may have just been good at hiding it for seven years, and was perfectly immaculate in every way possible. It's plausible; people could do that, but what if we take a different assumption?"

"That his wife isn't insane?"

She smiled. "Let's ignore the fact that the company didn't exist and let's play with this idea: Suppose he comes home from New York and tells his wife that he accepted a really good job with Ernest-Brians, and that the only downside was that they had to move from San Diego. Of course it's a little inconvenient, but ignoring the crazy ones, most people would understand. It's a big opportunity for them, especially with their only daughter."

I nodded.

"But she charged him with domestic violence instead, was declared mentally ill due to the messy testimonies by eyewitnesses despite their correlation to a single, consistent fact, and has been confined to a mental hospital since then. Not only that, this would traumatize their poor daughter, and she would have to live with the fact that her mother was never right in the head." She said off-handedly, "For her, that decision would never have given a 'happily ever after'."

I didn't like it.

The way she described it, a story of a family that broke down in the course of 48 hours, I didn't like it at all. My parents didn't argue much since my father wasn't the confrontational type; if any of their discussions turned violent, my grandfather was always the voice of reason, often dispelling every single argument both of them have had, making sure that they understood each other. But for Sudakar Rahjad...it was difficult to imagine what it was like.

I didn't feel much pity for him or his wife, but for their daughter, Ishana. She was the one who would lose out the most, as Sylvia described. Didn't that ever cross her mind, or was his wife just that callous? I guess it would make sense that she was mentally ill, but after that explanation, I was leaning toward Tamasa being sane.

Still, it nagged at me, bringing up another memory of a time I didn't like remembering.

It was when I was seven years old, when I was leaving the institute with my dad, after being told that I was being a bother to their work by the director. He disagreed and said that I was actually helping them, but he couldn't convince the director to change her mind. So just when I was about to leave, that was when she came out and ran toward me, held back by everyone else. The way she acted made me realize how much she wanted me to stay. And how important I was to her.

No! Why does she have to go!? I don't want her to go!

I couldn't forget about it; I was her only friend, and maybe, the closest thing she had to family. Those four words still remain etched in my memory from that day; I could still hear her voice, crying out.

Don't leave me alone!

Maybe that was why I didn't like thinking about this, why I couldn't understand Tamasa's decision.

It all came back to the question that started it all.

"Why?" I said, noticing another smirk across Sylvia's face. It seems I was getting better at following her train of thought.

"Well, we're going to find out why, exactly." She said, standing up, "This is our only lead based on what the merrow said, right? Can't let it go to waste now~".

"When are we leaving?"

"In about six hours."

It was only now that I finally understood why she wanted to meet me in the morning and pack a few things. I still didn't like, and would never get used to, the way she always spontaneously did things without telling me, but it was better than just sitting around waiting. I stood up and grabbed my things, walking over to Sylvia who still had that devious look on her face.

"What now?" I said.

"Nothing." She said, quickly opening the door, "Let's go, Miss Tsuchimiya."

I sighed.

« Last Edit: Nov 3, 2009 22:46:38 GMT -6 by connor » Back to Top