How much can you trust memory? How much can you trust your eyes? How are you to defeat the object which dictates your reality?
(x)

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How much can you trust memory? How much can you trust your eyes? How are you to defeat the object which dictates your reality?
(x)
Michael Fassbender’s films + smile/laughter
For your collection, Kitty. I hope you like it.
"How does it look?"
Here's another for you...
You shouldn’t have to thank people for telling the truth. You’re welcome all the same. I’m sure I could wear knowledge like that, but as I said I’ve done too many stupid things. It’s such a thin fabric I’d rip it trying to put it on. Do I have anything of silk? Of course I do. Yes, what if I didn’t hurt you. But what if I did? I’m not willing to risk it, even if you’d be alright in the long run. You can try and convince me of it all you want and it’s not going to work. I’m not going to try it, I refuse to hurt you. You’re the only person whose ever treated me the way you do. I’m not going to risk harming you.
Mmn, maybe I’m not looking the right way. I can’t see it. Perhaps I lack the proper magic for these things. I’ll get you another hat all the same. I’d never dream of stopping when it comes to petting Casper. He’s a good cat, you know. Well, I don’t need to tell you but I see it, too. Three cats who know how to properly beg for my attention. One in her smallness, one in his sweetness and one with his ginger insistence. Absolutely dead meat. I may already be rotting. Thirty in cat years. Well he’s an adult, then. He looks so young, I envy him.
You don’t have to bring them back. I’ve cleared some space in my drawers and I have them in there. I don’t mind. I already told you I’ve washed them. There’s no point in taking them and rewashing them when they’re already clean, silly cat. Come back soon though. Don’t leave me waiting here all afternoon, please. Seven? I’m really bad at this game.
He knew what he was saying was prattle but it stopped immediately when she regarded his thanks. That part wasn't for say, wasn't for the sake of or enjoyment of speaking. She had spoke of him as if she had known him his entire life, known every moment he had doubted and paraded himself and echoed back each of his beliefs, confirmed what he knew. "I'm not thanking you for telling the truth, I'm thanking you for seeing it and telling me. You understand. Thank you for understanding." It was a privilege to have someone see you as you were and understand to a finite detail. It made his blood boil hotter to think a simpleton had affected and hurt someone so valuable. Someone so intelligent and equally unaware of her knowledge, that she wore it like an heiress in fine silks. "You'd look lovely in silk." As for his tests, they would have to be tempted at another point in time as now became urgent to leave the room and carry out the concocted plan.
Never mind his hat, and a cat would respectively stay with either of them. He was all ready to go on his way until she repeated words, intentional or not from another time of her injury. "No," he quickly said, and shook his head. "We've discussed this one too." When she was rotting, it was from another matter she thought lowly of herself and for it to be repeated now would make matters worse. "You're not rotting, you're not decaying and I won't allow it. Not one cell of it." He leaned in close to meet her eye and emphasize his point. "Three cats are giving attention by claiming it. They want you."
"I'll take some with me at some point. All the same." He couldn't worry about his clothing now, he had things to do, a person to see and a talking to have. A sweet kiss pressed to her temple with all the force of take care, don't worry, be safe, don't be upset on the tip of his lips to transfer into her thoughts. He wasn't going to be long, he didn't intend to be long to save for time that would bring her thoughts welling back to her. He knew what that was like, told her before of the ditch he knew well and didn't want to chance her falling into the same welled steps. So he released his hold with a reassuring rub on her arm and moved to stand, taking one last glance on the board and tilting his head in a falsado as he lied, "Check mate," giving her something to think on in his absence.
No need for coat or jacket, his adrenaline and anger held enough fire to drive him to his destination bringing Chester immediately to the door before he turned to her. "I'll be back, yeah?" The door opened with graceful ease, all pretense of not so well hidden temper that changed to a quick slam as he left. What was that damned being thinking when he spoke those cruel words? The assistant nurse was known for his rudeness but for the fondness he had for Vera, even Ches found it astounding he had done it-- astounding, but not surprising. His footfalls against the pavement became the loud drumming to an oncoming battle as the philosopher, the man who wanted to protect his friend from the same fate he endured, marched his way to teach the buffoon the consequences of his mistakes.
___
The return to the apartment above the quaint charity shop was forgotten in it stride. Strange that he pushed to get lost and instead of an unknown destination, it was the path to it that was unfamiliar. It was something he'd have to later appreciate, write down for its importance but for now his mind was swirling with scenarios of how Vera would react to his state, to his actions that took all of his attention. The clapping of his shoes against the false stone lost its mirth, a quiet cat moving about the streets even his own mind could barely hold awareness to his presence. In the hour or so it took to carry out his actions, Chester Gates exerted all his physical value and became lost to the tangible world. No wonder why he couldn't remember the journey.
In the thirty some years of his physical presence, the teacher took pride that he rarely resorted to anger, was never angry. Violence was for game and jest but never for the intention to harm out of the hatred, never to purposely show another pain as he had just shown. His knuckles were bruised and scraped to the point of bleeding, the joints in his hands swollen as a reminder of his rage as he repeatedly met them to the man's head. The memory of that moment, he understood now the meaning of it being blind as it too was a blur clouded by thoughts and, most likely, injury from the other getting in his own blows. No doubt he looked a sight with small cuts to his forehead and lip and additional bruising to his cheek.
He could hear the tone now, the scolding from a mother to her son for rough-housing but what did mother's know of boyish delights? It wasn't his mother's chiding word he'd meet behind the door. Instead it was the judgement of another directly involved and whose opinion laid so heavy on his conscience that he felt the weight reduce him to a boy, already hurt by the imagined conversation as he knocked on the door for re-entry.
And Many More.
"Seems like it’s a hobby of yours," Vera murmured softly, the gentlest of slurs to her tone as she reached forward and carefully poured more liquor into her shot glass. "The getting lost on purpose, thing. I’d reckon you often end up knowing where you are, if you’re lost so much." Pause only came to her actions when she thought about her statement — enough time to rest the bottle down and lift up her shot once more, narrowing her eyes as the level of it before swallowing it away. Once more there was a warm path from her lips to the pit of her stomach and it promised fire where it rested. After a moment she smiled her mind making sense of the whimsical statement where there was none. Perhaps he would understand it, too. "Well I appreciate your honesty. It’s why I only wanted a cryptic hint. You know, so the mystery and pizazz wasn’t sucked out of suffering through this existence. Something existential or there-related-to. Shenanigans. The lot of it."
A soft shrug rolled through her shoulders followed by a giggle to match his own. “Murderer? By theory or would you just be a random slayer? I don’t there’s ever been a truly random murderer. You could be the first, though I suppose I might be a target then. Please don’t kill me, not just yet. I like your company and I don’t want to have to haunt you for it.” Attention fell back onto the bottle which she stared at for a moment before pulling the pour spile out and discarding it beside the glass. Shirking the idea of pouring the shot, she instead took a swig from the bottle and let it rest between her knees when she was done with it. “It’s not midnight yet? Mmn, I’ve been here all afternoon. Came in around two. Had a beer with the bartender here … well, it was a different bartender and then this fellow came in and we had a beer too. Then I had shots and here I am. I started contemplating life when it got too busy to have a talking buddy. But you’re here now so … new topic.”
Chester's head slowly nodded in agreement, of his many hobbies wandering would take him to places unknown and known in a new way. His value of the known and unknown, respectfully, drove most of his decisions and conclusions, why stop at directions and which way to go? "Sometimes things are exactly as they appear to be. Most of the time there's enough that's different that it doesn't appear the same and if it does, well, what's another direction going to do harm," he proposed, but thoughts of a mother's hushed warnings of strangers in strange places where already at defense. "Have you ever gotten yourself lost before, Miss Slade? Not aiming for a location and ending elsewhere but going specifically to find a place you do not know? It's very difficult but refreshing when you achieve it. I wonder what wonders you'll find."
His gaze drifted back to her, returning to his original intention and habits of people watching, peculiar watching of the thoughts written on their faces or hidden away behind exaggerated features. How she drank so quickly it was if she was forcing words back into her stomach lest they threaten to expose her thoughts and worries. Even now, her words suggested wanting the unknown for the sake of protection rather than awe or wonderment. "Oh good, I'm glad you got what you wanted though it appears you've been having quite a lot of the hedonistic life tonight. Mazel tov." His glass lifted in cheers to the unstated celebration of his similar lifestyle. Though now she was venturing into his land of thinking, the door to a room without walls, constraints or reason; even his own could be overthrown for the nature of possibilities. Though her increasing state suggested she was too inebriated for such talk or to counter, the perfect state in which to provide something more to ponder and mull. "But the existential has nothing to do with life, it's a misunderstanding between the meaning of the words. The existential is entirely and purely concept without no reference to how it's perceived, only to why. Think on that for a bit, yeah?" More information, detailed mumbling and additions spurred in his thoughts for more conversation but stopped for better amusement. What would she say? What crossed expression would contort her beautiful features and how quickly would she stifle her thoughts the burn of leisure consumption?
"Hm, randomly massed murderings." Did that really exist? Strange to think it wouldn't be or even strange to discus it within earshot of other guests of the place. Would they think themselves subject to the random but wouldn't his new acquaintance's be the cause of their mutilation? It was a prime example for conclusion. "New topic is murderers. Though it might be random from convenience but it then it doesn't become random anymore, does it? Though you should never believe in convenience and coincidence. It doesn't happen. As for me, you won't have to worry until I discover the meaning of life and when it happens, there will undoubtedly be a symptom showing that I have. Surely I'd be insane. Though I don't think I would kill you. More than one ghost present is too many. I'd have to keep you around for the sake of principles, more than one. Do you think me a murderer?"
I love Cheshire cat so much.
Are you, are you coming to the tree ...
strange things have happened here, no stranger would it be if we met at midnight in the hanging tree.
(x)
Today Is a Good Day.
Ches: Where do you think you are now?
Vera: Well I'm backpacking through many countries.
Ches: Yes, but where did you leave off?
Vera: I was in Sweden.
Ches: Does it sound like I'm a hinga-dinga-dirgen?