Damien and Jezreel Walk

Jezreel shrugs too. "I really don't much like talking to him about that part of his life," she says, "I'd rather not know too much about what he does for Them, you know?"

Damien gives Jezreel a look that says, "No, I have no idea what you're talking about," before out loud he says, "Uh-huh."

Jezreel just nods, apparently not seeing-- or misinterpreting-- your look.

After a pause, Damien bursts out, "So you live with just your mom? What's it like, living with just your mom?"

Jezreel shrugs. "It's okay. Mom's pretty cool most of the time. I can talk to her about anything. But we're very different. I..." she stops for a moment, wondering if she should admit it, then decides to tell him to Truth. "Sometimes I miss my dad, though. The way he used to be, I mean, not how he is now. We used to be very close... I'm a lot more like Dad-- like he was-- than I am like mom. And sometimes it gets pretty lonely."

Damien nods thoughtfully. He has a sort of pensive, wistful air about him as he replies, "But you haven't seen your dad since he... left?"

"I have seen him since then," Jezreel says. "But only once... And that visit didn't go very well."

"Does your mom still miss your dad? Does she, you know, want him back or anything like that?"

"She misses him," Jezreel says. "Or at least misses who he used to be. But I don't think they'll ever get back together... Not even if Dad Redeems himself. Mom was too hurt by..." Jezreel stops not sure how to put this, then rather lamely says, "Everything..."

---

Damien looks at the girl like she's really strange. "You do talk a lot, but half of what you say doesn't make much sense. Are you in one of those accelerated special ed programs or something?"

Jezreel looks confused. "No," she says, then, "You haven't understood me? What haven't you understood? I mean, I thought my English was pretty good, actually?"

"Oh, no, your English is impeccable." Damien pronounces the last word as if it were one he'd read but never actually said before. "You just sorta talk like you're a host on one of those high-falutin' public television politics shows or something."

Jezreel still looks puzzled. "I don't watch much television," she says. "I don't really understand the appeal."

She shrugs. "But if you don't understand me," she says, "Then maybe I need to change how I talk. What is it that you doesn't make sense, and I'll see if I can explain it a little differently."

"No, no, you're fine, sheesh, don't worry about it. I'm sorry I said anything." Damien's tone, completely different from the tone when asking about Jezreel's mother and father, is annoyed here.

Jezreel looks miserable and confused. "Sorry," she says, completely at a loss as to what she's done to piss Damien off.

---

"Oh," Jezreel says. "That's cool. Where do you school?" she asks, "And what's it like? School, I mean."

"School's OK," Damien says, leaving it at that. He doesn't sound too excited about the concept.

Jezreel is thinking furiously. This isn't working at all like she planned. Dodai says that most people like to talk about themselves, and if you just ask the right questions, you can just stand back and listen and people will think you a great conversationalist. But so far, that seems to be a no-go here. How on Earth are you supposed to know the right questions???

[Damien] >[OOC: :P Sore topics, you know :) ]

OOC: Oh, *I* understand the situation perfectly... It's *Jezreel* who's at a loss. :)

Still trying to keep the conversation alive, Jezreel asks, "So, where do you go to school, anyway?"

Damien tells her. (Perry? Could you help me out here?) "School is OK, I guess. I get good grades."

"That's good," Jezreel says. "What's your best subject?"

---

Jezreel looks a little disappointed. "Oh," she says, "Okay. Maybe we can get together and mess around on the computer," she offers. "I could show you some of the games I'm writing... Or, you could show me some of your work."

"You write games? Cool," Damien says. "What sort of games do you write?"

Jezreel smiles. Yes! A connection. "Mostly action/arcade style things so far. And a few puzzles and mind teasers. I want to do something a little more interactive-- a role playing style game-- but I haven't figured out quite what."

"The problem is, I just can't seem to find a plot I am comfortable with." She shrugs. "I mean, its hard to get it to leave free choice for the player and still reflect the Truth."

Jezreel shrugs again, "Uncle Eli says that fiction is not lying because it's not presented as Truth. And he says that imagination and make-believe are important tools for teaching, but I'm just not very good at making stuff up, you know? It still feels like lying, somehow..."

Damien laughs. "Sheesh, it's just a computer game. You know, people play it to have fun, you don't have to have Truth in it." Damien pronounces the word with a capital-T.

At that comment, Jezreel stares at you, stunned, almost as if she's just been slapped. She cannot ever gather herself enough to answer before you go on...

"You know, just because somebody likes to play Doom doesn't mean he's going to get a shotgun and go on the street killing everything that moves. It's just a game. So it doesn't matter what it says. Anybody knows it's a game. You're Uncle Eli's right. When you're reading a story, or watching a movie, you know it's just a story. Nobody's lying, or anything."

Jezreel just stares at you for several seconds, not really sure what to say. "I know... about the killing part, I mean. I know there is a difference between the make-believe fantasy of a game and people's actions in the real world... I know it's just pretend, but..."

Jezreel shrugs, her face a wash of confusion, "It's just..." she sighs. "It's hard to reconcile sometimes," she says. "Truth is very important to me... I can't imagine anything, even fiction, without at least a grain of Truth in it. You know, 'Beauty is Truth-- Truth, Beauty.'"

Then, as if to change the subject, "Oh, just for the record," she says, "Eli isn't really my uncle. He's more like a friend of the family." She shrugs. "He's more than that, really, but it's kind of hard to explain. But he says it's okay to call him 'Uncle Eli'. He says that's appropriate for an older eccentric male friend..."

Then realizing she's talking again, Jezreel tries one more time to pull Damien in. "Maybe you could help me with that part?"

OOC: Poor Jezreel... She really should just shut up while she's behind, huh? :)

Damien shrugs. "I dunno. I'm not really that good with stories and things. I'm better with programming, and stuff like that."

"Oh," Jezreel says. Then shrugs, and smiles brightly. "Well, that's cool too."

He looks up at Jezreel. "Are any of your games any good? Honestly now. Could I take a look at some of them sometime?"

Jezreel smiles. "You don't have to worry about the 'honestly' part," she says. "I *always* tell the Truth."

Then she shrugs. "*I* think they're pretty good. But I haven't really been able to get an objective opinion. I used to show them to my Dad, but..." she shrugs again.

"I'd love to have you take a look at them," Jezreel says with a bright grin. "Then you can tell me if they're any good..."

---

She reaches into her backpack and pulls out a notepad and a pen and starts writing... "May I have your address and phone number?" She asks. "Here's mine." She neatly tears a page from the notepad and hands it to you.

"Uh, yeah," Damien says, looking around. He hesitates before saying, "um, just, you know, don't pass this around. Like, don't let your dad have this address and know that I was asking about Smith & Smith, OK?"

"Okay," Jezreel says. "I'm not very good with keeping secrets," she admits, "But then, it is okay to keep them from the Enemy..."

Damien is a little taken aback at her use of the term "enemy." A little too hastily, he response, "Oh, I'm not worried about making any enemies or anything like that. I just... you know. I just, er, don't want to get on any more, um, spam mailing lists, or, stuff... like that."

Damien cringes at his lame excuse for not wanting to be seen in Smith & Smith's, but he can't think of anything better on the spur of the moment.

Jezreel doesn't seem to notice how lame the excuse is. "Oh," she says, "I see.... Well, you don't have to worry about it at any rate, I won't tell my Father if you don't want me to."

Damien writes his address, and adds his E-mail address, on Jezreel's notepad.

Taking the notepad back and glancing at it, Jezreel says, "Oh, I didn't think to give you my e-mail address... It's Jezreel@Whatever.it.is.net."

OOC: Do the angels have their own ISP? Heaven.net or Jean.com? :)

OOC: Or would that be heaven.gov? Or @heaven.mil? (I guess if you work for Laurence it's @heaven.mil.) :)

OOC: So, Perry??? What's that addy look like??? :)

[GM] OOGM: YES!!!! I completely forgot!!!! Ok, both of you, listen up (and sorry I didn't catch this one earlier)

GM: Jezreel, as an angel who has been granted an e-mail address by HEAVEN, you have at least two accounts. The first is the one you are expected to use within human society. It's a service run by a mundane company in which Heaven/Marc/Laurence/Jean has "stock" so to speak. Soldiers are *great*. Your _second_ account, is run by the BIG BOYS.

Most likely, because of your nature, you would use this one: [jezreel@halls.of.progress.org]

Okay... In that case, Jezreel will use Jezreel [jezreel@halls.of.progress.org] *unless* one of her Superiors has caught her at it and specifically *ordered* her to use the other account. In the absence of such an order, Jezreel will use the one that seems more honest, namely [jezreel@halls.of.progress.org]....

[GM] IF jezreel gives Damien [jezreel@halls.of.progress.org] THEN Damien, you *immediately* recognize it as a server which MANY of the "angels" use.

OOC: Coolness :)

[GM] (GM HINT: this would be an excellent way to get you two to reveal what each of you IS and KNOWS. He he he...)

OOC: Sounds good to me...

IC: If you actually look at the note Jezreel gave you, you see that it is penned in a highly stylized almost gothic calligraphy script. It has "Jezreel" written at the top. Below that it says "Address:" and gives her address on Powell Street then "Phone:" and lists her phone number...

Damien's address was your typical quick-scrawl on a dogeared piece of note paper.

OOC: Gotcha...