2026-06-07: Just Your Typical Every-Day Seance
- Cutscene: Just Your Typical Every-Day Seance
- Cast: Isabeau Fontaine
- Where: Kagurazaka - Penthouse
- OOC Date: 2026-06-07
- IC Date: Wednesday, November 2012
- Summary: Isabeau records a video diary for her mother, who's in no state to receive it.
"Hey, mom," Isabeau starts a camcorder recording, as she settles back on the floor of her room, cross-legged. She's a broad girl, but it doesn't entirely cover up the fact that her room is fastidious -- the exact opposite to her mother Fleur's style. "It's been a while, huh...? Sorry I haven't gotten any of these to you yet... eheh, shipping's kind of a nightmare." Her schoolmates wouldn't recognise the soft expression on her face now, warm and a touch embarrassed; to be fair, most of them wouldn't recognise the French she's speaking, either. She scratches at a cheek, as she glances away, her honey-blonde curls bouncing with the movement, before she looks back to the camera, planting her hands at her ankles as she leans forward and insists: "But I haven't given up or anything! Once I figure out the harmonics, it'll be a cinch! I got some great readings from that creepy old hospital I was telling you about!"
She tilts her head up, looking to the ceiling; it's dusted, thank you, she's not some sort of monster who forgets to look up. "I remember... you always said if I wanted to do something, I should do it the most. Soooo... about that... I still am totally hitting up the courts for at least two hours a day! But -- uh -- I met this, like, actual Olympian, and she told me I was going too hard going for eight hours straight...? Not that I could keep that up with school in the way, anyway..." Isabeau sighs, looking back down. "Don't worry, though, I'm not slacking on anything else. Of course I head out right after school, I don't want those morons trying to talk to me... unless there's official Tennis Club practice, you know, Monday, Wednesday, Friday? I told them it should be every day, but they voted me down ten to one," she sighs, her shoulders sinking. "I don't know why they won't listen to me... I'm their best player, you know?!"
Isabeau blows out her cheeks, with a pout. "Anyway, Tuesday and Thursday, that's when I head over to Madame Bambarina's for voice coaching... she keeps telling me I don't have any hope as a singer, but she just doesn't believe in me. I'm good! You told me I was good! If she keeps holding me back, I'll just go over her head!" She slaps a hand against the rug, scowling. "I can't let these ordinary people hold me back, right? You and me, we're special. We're not like them."
She's using present tense, and it's not that she doesn't know just why she needs to study ghosts to contact her mother. It's just...
... she can't accept it so easily.
"Of course, once I'm done with that, it's back to the courts...! But don't worry, I'm back in time for dinner," she adds, waving a hand. "Actually, I make a point to get back before dinner... that's when I work on my sculpting! Besides, it would be rude not to be at home to help papa set the table up, you know? He works hard to cook dinner... sometimes he even shows me what he's up to! I guess you'd say you're a modern woman, so that's why you never cooked... but you could have done a little more to live practically on Earth," she adds, with a touch of whining-chiding. "It's kind of cringe to have your kid thinking about all that stuff... even if people with higher resonance like me are more capable at baseline. I can't always be there... to look out for you, so..."
Somewhere along the line, those muscles beneath her soft profile have all tensed up, her face scrunched as she looks somewhere to the left of the camera. "I know I let you down, but... if I can just talk to you again, um..."
She scrubs at her face, and shakes it, vigorously. "AN-y-way!" She says, the syllables a touch too forced, "I get up earlier than you because that's when I work on my homework so there I win."
She's still, by her own metrics, talking to her mother.
Isabeau grumbles, slouching into her folded legs. "I mean... you don't have to worry about me. Papa's friends are looking out for me, and I'm getting better, I really am... I don't need any help. Kanae doesn't suspect a thing about you, either... she totally believes I just turned into a bitch for no reason. It's better this way, uh... friends just made me weak, you know? I have allies, I'm all grown up now... and I'll definitely find a way to reach you. I'd be pretty worthless if I never lived up to your vision..." Her expression darkens, as she recalls something which doesn't touch the homework on her desk, the open closet full of sporty clothes, the tennis racket neatly hung on its hook. "... but I'm not useless enough to just lie down and die about it." Her scowl deepens, a little more. "Emotions invite in those same emotions, right? They amplify each other, they... what was it you said, attract themselves? Yeah. That's why I won't cry. I'm not sad at all! Getting angry makes me much stronger! I'll attract a million battles, and then no one will defeat me ever again!" Even so, she looks sour.
"...," her shoulders sink, a little. "Well... I know it's not really... uh, there was this girl, you know? She emailed papa, he realised she was in trouble... her mother died, and she blamed herself. I don't know if she really didn't do anything, but... papa said she was troubled, and... even if she got her mom killed, that doesn't mean she deserved to die. Or for her Shadow to eat her... it really wasn't harmless, mom, even if it took a while to get mad, it got super violent with us when I pissed it off." Isabeau doesn't hear the blame she's taking for herself, as she gets to Futaba's. "Shadows are all the same! But I wasn't... strong enough. Another of those Shadows came out, bigger than anything I'd ever seen, and... it blew me away. Those damn kids said I was a bully, but what do they know? Stupid catgirl and her stupid sexy butt and her stupid sexy Persona..." Grumble, grumble. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. There's a Shadow preying on them, too, right? One of those ones which act cute and talk and make friends with people... like, I don't think that's a Humour, those are just for Ateliers, but... they don't see what's right in front of them, and they're blaming me for it. It's even worse, because that one looks like a cartoon cat... but there's no way a real cat would be a monster, mom. The worst part is, when I went back to check the Palace again, I couldn't even get in..."
Those awful green eyes are troubled, as they look to the carpet beneath her; it's an expression which twists to anger, in her momentary pause. "Why didn't it work?" She demands, acid entering her voice. "Am I not strong enough?! That's not fair! I would have kicked that Shadow's ass if those damn Thieves hadn't made me go all-out so early! I could have saved her! If I was just stronger -- if I was just stronger, then -- that damn Shadow even blew papa away! I should have served him its hide!" Her fist impacts the carpet, as she pitches forward; but she catches herself, in the outburst, and takes a breath as she straightens back into her criss-crossed position.
"... I wonder if they'll let her die because it's what she wants to do. Stupid... if people make dumb decisions... someone should have told you no, too." Isabeau's shoulders tighten, but her hands, in her view, remain lax. (It's what she can see -- and what she can't.) "No, don't argue with me... I know you would! But I should have been much, much sterner!" She's still talking to her mother. "Though... I guess you're right... I wasn't very obedient back then. Maybe if I started listening to you more, you'd listen to me, too... but I learned it from you, mom," Isabeau pouts. "You can't always just, have fun and do what you want... mm... though, it's funny, you know? One of papa's friends, Viv... she kind of reminds me of you. I guess I appreciate it more now we... you know, now we don't live together... like, I help out at her cinema, sometimes? Part time? This one time, I even climbed up the front and fixed her sign... you would have laughed. I guess at least I get along with adults okay, but..."
Isabeau's expression darkens. "Why's it on me to get along with them when they're wrong, anyway?! Those Phantom Thieves are to blame... next time I see them, I'll definitely crush them. Between them and that skank Yukari... bah, it's clear I can't get along with immature people! Besides, with Kanae being such a goody two-shoes... I'll make a much better villain, right, mom? You know... the kind who's doing what it takes to save the world... they'll feel really stupid when they realise I'm right, but I know they're not gonna listen. Sooo... I won't even try to explain to their stupid little pea brains! I'll just fight them, and get stronger, and then nothing will ever blow me away, and I'll be the one blowing the giant enemy Shadows away, and maybe I'll even let them beg for forgiveness once I fix all these monsters trying to snack on humanity!"
Here, Isabeau pauses, delicately. "... but you'd never be a monster, right, mom? Like... yeah, there was that one time I accidentally kinda let one of those monsters steal your image, but... ghosts don't count, right? They're people, they're just... dead people! I like people just fine... uh, I mean, not these people, most people around here piss me off, but like... in general...?" She bites at her lip, for a moment, as she frowns. "All these supernatural things prey on humans like it's nothing... but... you're still human," she insists, her smile a touch thin.
"Don't worry," she says, and she pretends she's talking to her mother, not herself. "I'll figure out some way that it'll all be okay. I can do anything, right? Just like you said! Well..." Isabeau sighs, shaking her head, as she pushes away her doubts. "As always... this is Isabeau, signing off. If you ever get one of these... make sure to leave me a sign, okay?"
She never does, but there's always tomorrow.
Leaning forward, she ends the recording on the camcorder, and stands to go to a filing cabinet beside her desk.
It is a tape left with plenty of company, in a sea of fellows just like them, marked only with the date.
Photographs can show the afterlife... but video can capture it, too.