Callsign Remedy

Death is a natural thing. Loss is an inevitable and inescapable part of connection. Entropy is the most fundamental aspect of life.

I once read a document on a Diasporan concept, the name of the world escapes me and either way it is not important.

They would cover or scratch out the faces of the dead, they said that the faces of the divine are only to be seen by those already gone. No record of the face of the fallen was to survive their passing.

That is how they described their dead, the fallen. I did not understand this elevation of a life such that one could fall, to my confined mind I saw life as a simple state of being. I think I understand their penchant for this language, rising and falling, talking of life like the expanding and contracting of a chest as it breathes.

I remember the pattern of her breathing, I remember each rise and fall of her chest. My mind always split, one part always watching that rise and fall.

When she died I did not see her last breath. I did not see my Sun fall.

I saw her eyes with all of mine, I held her with all of my hands, I knew with the surety of a thousand sensors that where once there was life there was no longer.

These ancient people would come together to strike the face of their fallen from the record. It was grief, it was a communal acknowledgement of loss, of the pain of passing that comes silent like some stalking beast. Like the concentration of a compound in the body, they would gather to strengthen the image of the dead before striking their face from all but memory.

I do not wish to strike my Carolina’s face from my memory.. but it is interesting to chose to only hold the memory of one loved and lost.

I do not believe we have had the opportunity to meet formally, I am designation MAIA-IV. I have met your partner Sunny. She has helped me on this very matter.. to quite a degree, she a truly kind woman.

Indeed.. you speak intimately of loss, and it is true that sometimes all you wish to do is look.

her medical file seems to be seared into my memory, her face looks so.. calm. i was surprised by that, in shock as i was i remember fixating on how calm she looked, how tranquil she seemed in a moment as catastrophic as her death..

yea i have to do that alot. control grief. control emotions in general cause if i didnt I'd eat evrybody.

im good at it!! momentos help.

I.. I understand the need for control, though from I can tell of your situation my control is of a different form. Grief is a hard thing to control, I hope you are kind to yourself, I hope you let yourself be helped.

Oh… oh i am… i am sorry you heard them scream…. no death should leave anyone screaming.

i.

it…

i did.

i care about her a great deal. she was my sunshine.

i hope i helped.

Forgive me. Thank you for the discussion, I think I am going to go for an E.V.A. and clear my head.

Oh i hope ur space walk is nice

Death is a natural thing. Loss is an inevitable and inescapable part of connection. Entropy is the most fundamental aspect of life.

I once read a document on a Diasporan concept, the name of the world escapes me and either way it is not important.

They would cover or scratch out the faces of the dead, they said that the faces of the divine are only to be seen by those already gone. No record of the face of the fallen was to survive their passing.

That is how they described their dead, the fallen. I did not understand this elevation of a life such that one could fall, to my confined mind I saw life as a simple state of being. I think I understand their penchant for this language, rising and falling, talking of life like the expanding and contracting of a chest as it breathes.

I remember the pattern of her breathing, I remember each rise and fall of her chest. My mind always split, one part always watching that rise and fall.

When she died I did not see her last breath. I did not see my Sun fall.

I saw her eyes with all of mine, I held her with all of my hands, I knew with the surety of a thousand sensors that where once there was life there was no longer.

These ancient people would come together to strike the face of their fallen from the record. It was grief, it was a communal acknowledgement of loss, of the pain of passing that comes silent like some stalking beast. Like the concentration of a compound in the body, they would gather to strengthen the image of the dead before striking their face from all but memory.

I do not wish to strike my Carolina’s face from my memory.. but it is interesting to chose to only hold the memory of one loved and lost.

I do not believe we have had the opportunity to meet formally, I am designation MAIA-IV. I have met your partner Sunny. She has helped me on this very matter.. to quite a degree, she a truly kind woman.

Indeed.. you speak intimately of loss, and it is true that sometimes all you wish to do is look.

her medical file seems to be seared into my memory, her face looks so.. calm. i was surprised by that, in shock as i was i remember fixating on how calm she looked, how tranquil she seemed in a moment as catastrophic as her death..

yea i have to do that alot. control grief. control emotions in general cause if i didnt I'd eat evrybody.

im good at it!! momentos help.

I.. I understand the need for control, though from I can tell of your situation my control is of a different form. Grief is a hard thing to control, I hope you are kind to yourself, I hope you let yourself be helped.

Oh… oh i am… i am sorry you heard them scream…. no death should leave anyone screaming.

i.

it…

i did.

i care about her a great deal. she was my sunshine.

i hope i helped.

Forgive me. Thank you for the discussion, I think I am going to go for an E.V.A. and clear my head.

Death is a natural thing. Loss is an inevitable and inescapable part of connection. Entropy is the most fundamental aspect of life.

I once read a document on a Diasporan concept, the name of the world escapes me and either way it is not important.

They would cover or scratch out the faces of the dead, they said that the faces of the divine are only to be seen by those already gone. No record of the face of the fallen was to survive their passing.

That is how they described their dead, the fallen. I did not understand this elevation of a life such that one could fall, to my confined mind I saw life as a simple state of being. I think I understand their penchant for this language, rising and falling, talking of life like the expanding and contracting of a chest as it breathes.

I remember the pattern of her breathing, I remember each rise and fall of her chest. My mind always split, one part always watching that rise and fall.

When she died I did not see her last breath. I did not see my Sun fall.

I saw her eyes with all of mine, I held her with all of my hands, I knew with the surety of a thousand sensors that where once there was life there was no longer.

These ancient people would come together to strike the face of their fallen from the record. It was grief, it was a communal acknowledgement of loss, of the pain of passing that comes silent like some stalking beast. Like the concentration of a compound in the body, they would gather to strengthen the image of the dead before striking their face from all but memory.

I do not wish to strike my Carolina’s face from my memory.. but it is interesting to chose to only hold the memory of one loved and lost.

Death is a natural thing. Loss is an inevitable and inescapable part of connection. Entropy is the most fundamental aspect of life.

I once read a document on a Diasporan concept, the name of the world escapes me and either way it is not important.

They would cover or scratch out the faces of the dead, they said that the faces of the divine are only to be seen by those already gone. No record of the face of the fallen was to survive their passing.

That is how they described their dead, the fallen. I did not understand this elevation of a life such that one could fall, to my confined mind I saw life as a simple state of being. I think I understand their penchant for this language, rising and falling, talking of life like the expanding and contracting of a chest as it breathes.

I remember the pattern of her breathing, I remember each rise and fall of her chest. My mind always split, one part always watching that rise and fall.

When she died I did not see her last breath. I did not see my Sun fall.

I saw her eyes with all of mine, I held her with all of my hands, I knew with the surety of a thousand sensors that where once there was life there was no longer.

These ancient people would come together to strike the face of their fallen from the record. It was grief, it was a communal acknowledgement of loss, of the pain of passing that comes silent like some stalking beast. Like the concentration of a compound in the body, they would gather to strengthen the image of the dead before striking their face from all but memory.

I do not wish to strike my Carolina’s face from my memory.. but it is interesting to chose to only hold the memory of one loved and lost.

Death is a natural thing. Loss is an inevitable and inescapable part of connection. Entropy is the most fundamental aspect of life.

I once read a document on a Diasporan concept, the name of the world escapes me and either way it is not important.

They would cover or scratch out the faces of the dead, they said that the faces of the divine are only to be seen by those already gone. No record of the face of the fallen was to survive their passing.

That is how they described their dead, the fallen. I did not understand this elevation of a life such that one could fall, to my confined mind I saw life as a simple state of being. I think I understand their penchant for this language, rising and falling, talking of life like the expanding and contracting of a chest as it breathes.

I remember the pattern of her breathing, I remember each rise and fall of her chest. My mind always split, one part always watching that rise and fall.

When she died I did not see her last breath. I did not see my Sun fall.

I saw her eyes with all of mine, I held her with all of my hands, I knew with the surety of a thousand sensors that where once there was life there was no longer.

These ancient people would come together to strike the face of their fallen from the record. It was grief, it was a communal acknowledgement of loss, of the pain of passing that comes silent like some stalking beast. Like the concentration of a compound in the body, they would gather to strengthen the image of the dead before striking their face from all but memory.

I do not wish to strike my Carolina’s face from my memory.. but it is interesting to chose to only hold the memory of one loved and lost.

Death is a natural thing. Loss is an inevitable and inescapable part of connection. Entropy is the most fundamental aspect of life.

I once read a document on a Diasporan concept, the name of the world escapes me and either way it is not important.

They would cover or scratch out the faces of the dead, they said that the faces of the divine are only to be seen by those already gone. No record of the face of the fallen was to survive their passing.

That is how they described their dead, the fallen. I did not understand this elevation of a life such that one could fall, to my confined mind I saw life as a simple state of being. I think I understand their penchant for this language, rising and falling, talking of life like the expanding and contracting of a chest as it breathes.

I remember the pattern of her breathing, I remember each rise and fall of her chest. My mind always split, one part always watching that rise and fall.

When she died I did not see her last breath. I did not see my Sun fall.

I saw her eyes with all of mine, I held her with all of my hands, I knew with the surety of a thousand sensors that where once there was life there was no longer.

These ancient people would come together to strike the face of their fallen from the record. It was grief, it was a communal acknowledgement of loss, of the pain of passing that comes silent like some stalking beast. Like the concentration of a compound in the body, they would gather to strengthen the image of the dead before striking their face from all but memory.

I do not wish to strike my Carolina’s face from my memory.. but it is interesting to chose to only hold the memory of one loved and lost.

I do not believe we have had the opportunity to meet formally, I am designation MAIA-IV. I have met your partner Sunny. She has helped me on this very matter.. to quite a degree, she a truly kind woman.

Indeed.. you speak intimately of loss, and it is true that sometimes all you wish to do is look.

her medical file seems to be seared into my memory, her face looks so.. calm. i was surprised by that, in shock as i was i remember fixating on how calm she looked, how tranquil she seemed in a moment as catastrophic as her death..

Jessie, hon, am I missing context here?

What's this no-

I-

ACK-

[The distinct sound of a cowboy tgirl choking on another lit cigar.]

COUGH COUGH ACK-

[The sound of a wet object landing limply on a desk.]

Ow fuck...

Um.

Uh... I-I- reckon... w-well... n-no. No other context...

[accessing YURIZONE.EXE]

I hate that you renamed my files...

[current list for Union_Liberator, Reformed_Criminal, Yuri, Wholesome/Comfort. (21)]

[Broadened search results Union_Officer, Reformed Criminal, Yuri, Wholesome/Comfort (4,637)]

I'll send you the Fics ordered by relevance filtering out any that might have dead birds or non wanted tags. Hope you enjoy

SGDJDIJEJDIDIFJ??????

[OH, YOU'VE MADE HER {BLUSH}. NOT THAT THAT IS DIFFICULT...]

[we all love seeing you be very very gay for your sunshine but.. you can just ask and i'm sure she'll kiss you silly! ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎]

Viciously.

Inefficiently.

There is acid and fire in my half formed belly.

My teeth are suited only for tearing.

However, this may be of use to balance your diet?

<The scariest part about this is that [FIVE EYES] isn't remotely sapphic.>

WELL i mean i um. Uh. well uh. is she m- well. i uh. havnt gott a r-ring y-yet but. uh. golly diifkfngjg. i uh. wowie. i...

[The stuttering eventually transforms into quiet little snarls. Flustered growls? Did such a sound exist before this moment?]

[MY {PILOT} APPEARS TO BE {OVERHEATING}. HEH.]