Muraki Kazutaka (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letsplaysurgeon) wrote2011-05-26 03:25 am
letsplaysurgeon) wrote2011-05-26 03:25 am
Case 004 [Voice/Action]
[Due to the recent disclosure from the last experiment, Muraki no longer feels the need to hide his voice--even from the ones who know about him. His tone is warm and casual, as if he didn't realize there isn’t a filter over his post. Or that he was the type of gent who didn't need a filter because he was a good banana, through and through.]
It's difficult not to notice the recent stream of newcomers over the journal system and in the village. Salutations are in order, as you will be staying here for quite some time. And don't be offended if I don't refer to you collectively as "New Feathers." [As it sounds like something a four-year old came up with.] ...But I will welcome you. I'm Muraki Kazutaka, a doctor that has settled into the local clinic. It is always open if you ever need anything. And of course I offer my own services in any way that I can.
[He stops for a moment, and noise can be heard in the background: a sharp metallic click, and then a steady release of breath. He lights a cigarette and proceeds to smoke while he talks.] If this place has anything going for it, it's the variety of medicine that different people bring with them. I've seen practices similar to my own, and some that my colleagues back home would consider crude, if not primitive.
I have to wonder, with this irrefutable evidence of other universes, if perhaps there is a world where medicine has advanced to the level that I had always dreamed of: one that is past sickness and death. [A offhanded chuckle.] Or perhaps that would only cause sickness to evolve the way a mouse finds a way to outsmart the updated mouse trap.
[Despite the nature of his journal entry, Muraki spends very little time at the clinic that day. He leaves after a few hours and goes by the flower shop, picking up a bouquet of light pink roses and brings them back to his apartment. They are arranged with care in a vase next to his bed, on the side that he rarely sleeps on.
He doesn't care much for the heat wave, or the sensation of his clothes sticking to his skin like an envelope. He stays inside until the late evening, when it cools--and it's more likely he'll run into the one he is most interested in seeing.
Muraki was more of a night owl, anyway.]
It's difficult not to notice the recent stream of newcomers over the journal system and in the village. Salutations are in order, as you will be staying here for quite some time. And don't be offended if I don't refer to you collectively as "New Feathers." [As it sounds like something a four-year old came up with.] ...But I will welcome you. I'm Muraki Kazutaka, a doctor that has settled into the local clinic. It is always open if you ever need anything. And of course I offer my own services in any way that I can.
[He stops for a moment, and noise can be heard in the background: a sharp metallic click, and then a steady release of breath. He lights a cigarette and proceeds to smoke while he talks.] If this place has anything going for it, it's the variety of medicine that different people bring with them. I've seen practices similar to my own, and some that my colleagues back home would consider crude, if not primitive.
I have to wonder, with this irrefutable evidence of other universes, if perhaps there is a world where medicine has advanced to the level that I had always dreamed of: one that is past sickness and death. [A offhanded chuckle.] Or perhaps that would only cause sickness to evolve the way a mouse finds a way to outsmart the updated mouse trap.
[Despite the nature of his journal entry, Muraki spends very little time at the clinic that day. He leaves after a few hours and goes by the flower shop, picking up a bouquet of light pink roses and brings them back to his apartment. They are arranged with care in a vase next to his bed, on the side that he rarely sleeps on.
He doesn't care much for the heat wave, or the sensation of his clothes sticking to his skin like an envelope. He stays inside until the late evening, when it cools--and it's more likely he'll run into the one he is most interested in seeing.
Muraki was more of a night owl, anyway.]
[Action]
[Action]
More spare time than what is usually offered here? That's impressive--and quite dangerous depending on what has been occupying your thoughts lately.
I hope it has not been interfering with your loved ones.
[Action]
[He shakes his head in an attempt to push those thoughts away.] It is better this way. I cannot intrude on their privacy, and I do not have to worry about offending them any longer. [Oh boy does he sound bitter about the whole thing anyway. It's fairly telling that this is one of the issues occupying his thoughts. He sighs.]
...Perhaps I have spent too much time alone since then.