[Well GOOD NEWS ABOUT THAT, LIL MISS. Dahut's expression immediately brightens when she complains?? Why??? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he is not suffering with a tray of sadge food, unlike her...]
Good news, good news! I have access to the kitchen, so I can see if there are any good ingredients there that I can use to whip up something tastier!
Of course! Only being able to feed people with those snacks from the vending machines was a real headache, you know? I'm super happy that I can cook something decent, now!
[Dahut just running into the kitchen not to steal all of the knives but to make so much food, as you do...]
What sort of things do you like to eat? I'll see what I can do!
A stew! To be honest, I haven't made one in a long time... I'll do what I can, though! Would you mind waiting out here for a bit? I don't think I can take anyone who doesn't have access in with me.
[JUST ABANDONS HER IN THE MESS HALL it's fine, it's for the benefit of a good ol' fashioned hearty stew...]
[THE INTENSITY SHE'S SO FUNNY. She can catch him before he actually zooms into the kitchen, because tragically, his is one of the only IDs that's been updated to have kitchen access.]
Oh! I would love for you to be able to, but I don't think you can actually enter... You would have to ask one of our senior friends for access, I think.
[HELP SHE'S GONNA GO GET THE MANAGER. Dahut just cants his head to the side, considering, and then:]
Probably because it's general food meant to serve the population on a whole! Since it's impossible to predict everyone's tastes and allergies, it's best to keep it suuuper simple, right?
....Why not just offer two options and let the people decide for themselves?
[What a waste. She picks up a bottle of paprika with a budding pout. Should she tuck it away for later?]
Actually, now that we're in here, should we take a closer look around the place? I do love a secret spice! But there could always be something more exciting to find.
Whenever Rosamund is next moseying through the observation deck/lounge area, she might be in for a little surprise! It's perhaps a bit hard to see things well between the darkness of space stretching out beyond the windows and how often people tend to look out through them instead of at the floor, so maybe she'll bump into it.
It being a pile of white fabric on the floor. Investigate??]
It's a foot! A Dahut foot, attached to the rest of the Dahut that's currently balled up under this balled up coat. He doesn't seem to respond outside of that just yet, though. The emotional spread is, as always, slightly off kilter - like something very nearly human - and a tiny bit muted, though notably less so than Scien. The most notable thing right now is this funkyass cyclical panic, though! That's fun. It's just a feeling of panic that seems to fade a bit, flicker like an electronic about to shortcircuit, and then surge again, over and over.]
She's keyed into the sensations at once. Thankfully she's had enough troublesome run ins to know that her pulse is spiking due to his distress, not any of her own. And there's a strange squeeze on the emotional front, too. Is that just the mercurial transfer between them?
Rosamund moves to her knees and switches to a gentle hold on his shoulder. For her own part she projects a grounded warmth. Not quite maternal, but of a kind with it.]
Dahut, it's Rosamund. Can you hear me all right?
[She might try to edge the coat off his head a little. Eye contact would help, or at least she could gauge his mood better. He's giving off such a jumbled cacaphony right now.]
Goodbye coat... She can do that, he won't kick up a fuss. In fact, as soon as he hears another voice, it's like he remembers he's inhabiting a human body that is just sort of existing in the middle of the fuckin floor! Goddamn! He shifts a little, peeking out from under the fabric and letting her move however much she wants of it.]
Oh— Good day, Mademoiselle Rosamund... I don't seem to have made it to the seats.
Hey, that's all right. You have no idea how many times I've laid on the ground dying. Happens to the best of us!
[She will brush his hair aside and check for fever, even she's certain it's not a regular illness. Then she'll lift him slightly, set his head on her lap (very mindful of the brairs) and stroke the hair back in place.]
[These gestures are so soft and tendy my god. She won't feel any fever, though something cuts through the weird stop-and-go of his Panic Spin Cycle as she sets his head on her lap and brushes his hair back into place. A sense of loss and longing; something mournful and aching.
He'll just close his eyes for a moment, like he's reestablishing his bearings or maybe indulging in a bit of nostalgia.]
You should stop lying on the ground dying... It's not very comfortable. [PLEASE DON'T DIE ANYWHERE??? There's a little sigh after that, though.]
I think... being around sooo many people with all of those big, big emotions was a little much for me, ehe...
Not having a fever is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because sickness in closed spaces is so dangerous. A curse because the cure just became that much more murky. And he is just bleeding loneliness, a grief that pricks her own heart in just the echoes.]
You mean that weird sharing thing that's going on? [She can imagine it could turn into something scary. It was already creepy to start with.] Was there anyone in particular that hurt to be near?
He opens his eyes again, fixing her with his freaky lil multicolored stare.]
That, most likely. [There's a little flicker of a smile; he'd nod, if he wasn't comfortably situated.] It's no one in particular, really... There are just a lot of emotions, you know? A lot all at once. Even I have trouble processing that.
[You don't have to tag this back, this can just be a lil cap on their time together ;;]
That's okay. Sometimes too much of a good thing can hurt you. Not that all the sharing is good, but. I think it's very sweet that you're so receptive.
[She will begin to stroke his hair anew, this time more to calm than correct. It doesn't seem like he's against the touch. She knows some people don't like to be coddled, and that's okay too.]
Why don't we wait a little while together? If you need to sleep, I don't mind. You don't have to talk. [She smiles.] Whatever you need, I'm happy to help.
Aha, I don't know that I'd call it sweet... Silly, maybe! [He would have made better modifications if he knew he was going to be flavorblasted by 38 other people's emotions...
He does seem to be fine with this, though. The tender sort of pang in his emotions surfaces again; his smile is a little nostalgic, and the wistfulness makes him seem both older and younger than what his face alone would suggest.]
...It's been a looong time since anyone's fussed over me like this. [A little blip of mother.] You're kind of heart to be donating your time... Thank you very much. [A smile! It's smaller than usual, but the sort with a warmth genuine enough to make his eyes crinkle.] I won't take up too too much of your time, or it'd just be greedy of me, ehe! Buuut... maybe just another minute or two. We can still talk! I'll just rest my eyes for a moment.
[And he will! And maybe he'll end up dozing a little in this comforting familiarity right after struggling with his stupid, complex heart, and maybe that's fine.]
[Hi Rosamund! Are you enjoying the party? This guy hopes you are! Or something! Who knows... He's just sort of man-standing there, pixelatedly, looking at her like he's considering something?]
[NOT FAST ARTHUR. THIS IS JUST IT FOLLOWS. Well, he will lead Rosamund over to a sketchy dark back area of this party room where no one else is... The perfect place to commit murder.
Except he doesn't. He just GOES IN FOR A HUG!! Which is probably weird for the 2 seconds that this is still Pixel Arthur, but his pixel form glitches into Pixel Dahut soon enough.]
[I HATE IT HERE. ALSO STOP GETTING BIT AT THE VAMPIRE CLUB!!!!
Anyway, NOT THE "YOU". Dahut just laughs, a light and chiming sound, or as much of a laugh as he can get out before they're both HUGGING EACH OTHER SO TIGHT. He rests his head against her for a moment, beaming and radiating the energy of a very social person who has been stuck with introverts for weeks.]
[THEY LEFT THAT PLANET BEHIND 029345938 YEARS AGO BY NOW]
I-I missed you too! Dahut, how are you — is it because this is a virtual place? I know you can speak through the message system, but I never imagined seeing—
I know! I get to hear your voices all of the time, but it's really not the same as talking to you directly! Neither are the letters or messages... I miss everyone sooo much! But I'm glad you guys are still alive!
[He would not sacrifice the ship just to be less lonely.]
[SWEET ROSAMUND... Dahut's pixely face looks as soft and apologetic as pixels can look, and he reaches out to hold her hand.]
I'm sorry... I was trying really hard to survive! But I ended up leaving behind a mess... [WEEK 0 BAT TO EVERYONE'S KNEES.
But he nods at that!]
Mm! We're about as well as we can be, and everyone's getting along nicely. Everyone's pretty level-headed, fortunately, and we all understand that hands are being forced here.
[She pulls back to cup him by both cheeks, looking direct into his eyes.]
You wanted to live. You did your best. None of it is your fault, and you should never feel ashamed about what happened, not for our sakes.
[The report heartens her though. She smiles down at him.]
That's wonderful. Truly, I'm so relieved. Once I was told the dead may still be present in some way, I was worried about what might be happening to you all.
Please, explain everything you can. I want to help you.
ME WRITING THIS TAG BEFORE TRIAL AND THEN WATCHING YOUR MURDERHANDS EMERGE
[UEUEUE she's so sweet... Dahut looks up at her and depixelates for a second, so the warmth in his eyes is crystal clear.]
...Thank you very much, Mademoiselle Rosamund. You're very kind-hearted...
[Will he still feel a little guilty MAYBE SO. But being told that it wasn't his fault is a nice thing to hear. But! He just nods in response, smiling a little more brightly.]
I'm glad we can deliver some good news, then! Though I don't really know how much I can explain without it being blocked... Um! We're in the Helly Belly, and we miiight be- [STATIC NOISES.] -but we're doing okay so far! It might be because of our version of your Wednesday activities? Oh, and we're- [WOOD SAWING NOISES.] -probably!
Oh—! Please be careful with those, they may harm you!
[Fortunately they will not, but he's cautious just in case. That flower, as well as the entire field spread out before them, is a blanket of red spider lilies - but they're all jet-black, making for a striking contrast with the blue of the sea and sky.
He also glances back behind them toward where the rift has SEALED THEM IN. "it opens if they visit it" not this time it doesn't.]
...Unfortunately, I think we'll have to proceed through whatever nonsense is here first. Just take care, okay?
No need to apologize! These are just dangerous, typically... Or rather, I can never tell when they'll be dangerous to others when they show up in things like this.
[Because this happens SO OFTEN... He'll hold her hand, though, making his careful way through the flowers. There's a little path that cuts through, so they can walk without stepping on any - and he's cautious not to.]
...It is, most likely. Or at least, this cliffside is one I'm very familiar with.
[Which, speaking of: though the sun was only just hanging a few feet above the horizon, it starts to set at an unnaturally fast clip, entirely set in just seconds. Overhead, the clouds scatter, and a big, full moon hangs over them.
The scent of the ocean also mingles with something more acrid. She's probably familiar with the iron tang of blood by now.]
[It's a simple answer despite what it means, but Dahut - whose free hand has been resting against his stomach - shifts to hold his stomach more fully and hunches just the tiniest bit, like he's reluctant to press on despite continuing to do so.
There's a figure in the swaying flowers up ahead, lying prone among them. The scent of blood in this area is so heavy and thick that it's enough to make anyone with a weaker stomach gag. Dahut's steps slow, contrasting the reaction of someone who's normally prone to throwing himself into dangerous situations to help others who need it.]
[This queasy move doesn't escape her notice. She gently puts a hand to Dahut's back, rubbing if he's receptive to it.
She's not easily quailed by violence or gore. It's more the emotion behind it that balks her — hence her frequent outbursts at executions, the least fair battles she's ever witnessed. When it's a body, it's just a body.
Which is what it looks like they'll find today. When he slows she looks down at him, considering him carefully.]
I can go ahead alone if you prefer. You don't have to look again, not if you don't want to.
[He doesn't seem to mind the gesture, at least, even though he still seems a bit stiff rather than warming into the touch of others as he normally does.
There's a moment of quiet at the suggestion, though it's not because he's thinking over his answer. Rather, it seems at first like he might not have even heard it, his gaze firmly fixed on the figure. It seems perfectly still, so maybe she's right - a body, just a body.
But eventually, he shakes his head and slips his hand away from hers.]
I have to look, every time. [Penance, maybe. A sense of duty. Even if it isn't real, how could he just leave things like this? Then, softly:] You can wait here, if you'd like. I don't want to burden you.
[But he won't stop her if she decides to follow along as he steps away from the little trail and into the flowers. She'll just have to take care; the carpet of them is thick, though many have already been snapped and flattened as they draw closer.]
It's not a burden. [She lets her hand still, but it remains as will she.] I'd rather be here with you than leave you alone.
[It's not something he would enjoy sharing, of course. She suspects the point of these rifts is to peel back your layers and show your guts to whoever was strung along with you. She might not have a choice in looking either.
So they move together. She treads as carefully as she can. It's something she's used to, forests and greenery were her terrain. The blossoms may be odd and overgrown but she takes the trampled path, moving slow after Dahut.
[she came back from her facial so quickly...! But through the flowers they go, careful as can be. Though the one she picked earlier didn't seem to have an effect, there's a thin black miasma hanging in the air here with how many have been crushed or snapped. She might find that it's harder to breathe, that there's a tickle in the back of her throat urging her to cough even more than the thick smell of blood.
As they approach, she'll be able to get a good look at the figure: it's the body of a young woman dressed in resplendent royal silks, torn to shreds and dyed such a deep red that it looks as black as the flowers under the moonlight. Her beautiful dusty brown hair is streaked with blood, her arms and legs bent at painful-looking angles, as though god discarded her here like a broken doll. She's covered in violent injuries and her eyes stare half-lidded and unseeing into the night sky.
Then, her mouth just barely moves.
Liam... My sweet boy, is that you...?
The way he literally just got done scolding Scien about entertaining these hallucinations, but what else can he do? He immediately moves to kneel by her side, reaching for her cold and bloody hand, everything about him so openly tender.]
Yes - it's me, Mother. I've come to see you and I've brought a wonderful friend along with me... She's kind enough to come all this way.
[There's a polite clearing of her throat, as soft and silent as she can manage. Illusion or not, she can feel the pollen trickling into her lungs with a pungent threat. Are Relievers immune to such things?
This isn't the time to ask. There's a woman here, abandoned. Left for dead more like. Rosamund's heart sinks the second she lays eyes on her, barely restraining herself from rushing to her side. It's not real, she reminds herself, taking in the splayed limbs and the sour blood, there's nothing that can be changed here.
Dahut has no such qualms. He's at her side at once, with such open emotion that it shocks her. Yes his heart had been purposefully expanded, but she's had it impressed upon her time and again that they are not at all the same. The capacity isn't there for love.
Then what do you call this?]
Hello. [Rosamund looks to Dahut apprehensively, then kneels at his side. She brushes some of the hair out of the woman's face. "Mother." Literally, or figuratively? And why was she calling him "Liam?"] I'm Rosamund. Your Liam is a...a lovely boy.
[As Rosamund is wondering about a Reliver's ability to breathe among the lycoris, Dahut clears his throat, too, in the same stilted and quiet way of someone trying not to be noticed. No one in Arpéchéle is immune, after all - not even Scien.
He doesn't seem at all bothered by it, though. Rather, it's like he doesn't even notice. His gaze is fixed so wholly on this battered woman that it's a miracle he's even thinking to include Rosamund in this mess at all, but he does seem to stay aware of her throughout.
The woman reaches up with her other hand - or tries to, and fails, and Dahut catches that one too and leans down so she can place her bloodied palm on his cheek.
You've made... a friend? How lovely... She wheezes out her words with rattling lungs. Despite the pain she must be in, she carries on like this is a normal conversation and she isn't bleeding out in a poisonous field. She turns her cloudy gaze toward Rosamund.
How wonderful to meet... you, madamemoiselle... What a kind young woman... She looks, maybe, like she's trying for a smile, but doesn't even seem to have the strength for that. As if saying what anyone in this situation would think, gravely but with apology: There is nothing more that can be done... And then, to Dahut: Oh, my darling Liam... I'll leave the rest to you... Never forget that your mother loves you so very, very much...]
Of course, I never will. I'll always remember. I love you, too, Mother...
[She gives his cheek one gentle, shaky stroke and then seems to still, and he just sits there unmoving, too, even with the press of miasma growing more potent with every second. Rosamund might taste iron in her mouth soon enough.]
[It's difficult to take in. Rosamund's eyes are watering both from the deathly pollen and the way this woman makes her pleas.
She doesn't dare interrupt now. These last words are wasted on her, illusion or not. Her eyes go to Dahut. A sweet, gentle boy, no matter how unusual or long-lived, sitting on the ground, watching a woman who he calls mother fade away.
There's wetness at her cheeks soon. She averts her eyes for the last. It's too private. Too terrible to take from him, not in this sense. When the quiet lingers after her breath halts, Rosamund can taste it. Blood, all in the back of her throat.
She suppresses a cough. Instead her hand returns to Dahut's back, rubbing slow.]
[He knows he has to go - that they both have to go. His throat and lungs feel thick with the toxin, and he can't help but cough, too. But it's always so hard to let go of her hand.
At least he's well-aware of the fact that it's an illusion this time. The hand at his back and gentle words are enough to draw him away, and he gently sets his mother's hand over her chest and draws her eyelids shut.]
...Thank you, Mademoiselle Rosamund. Even after all these years, it's still... well. Some things don't go away with time, I guess.
[But he'll cough into his hand after that, give his mother's body one last stare, and then rise to stand. With his non-bloody hand, he'll reach back out for one of hers.]
[How could it? The loss of family was knife that could never be dislodged. That wound may close over but blade stays snapped off within, gutting you anew when you twist just the right way.
She takes his hand, searching his eyes. If he'll let her, if he'll look at him. She'll take the lead now with a nod and soft steps forward.]
I should hope it is.
[Let him rest. That's enough for one day.
As they walk the scene evaporates, and they are back in the dank air of the Helly Belly. At once she breathes easier, though her chest remains taught and stinging.]
[He'll let her, and he looks back, but it's hard to read much in his expression beyond the fading vestiges of that tender emotion and a weariness that belies his true age.]
Thank you. [THEY'RE FREE THOUGH YIPPEE. Back in the Helly Belly and so glad for it... What a time to be alive. Or undead. It's fine. He gives her hand a little squeeze, clearing his throat from the last lingering feeling of lycoris poison. A beat as he considers, and then:]
She was assassinated by the rest of our family and left in that field. I was around five at the time, so it's been quite a while.
Also that's such a mood! He's constantly appalled by his own terrible family! His shoulders raise into a sloping shrug.]
People do horrible things when the opportunity to grab power presents itself. I was my mother's only child and my father died when I was just a baby, but our family is fairly large and full of very ravenous people.
[WHAT A LOVELY DAY TO BE....... at the... dripping debussy........ Hateful that this name is so awful when the location is decent.
Anyway, as she's wandering through, her peaceful lil walk will be interrupted by the sound of someone apparently coughing themselves to death behind a pillar.]
Anyway thank you very much for the comforting backrub, Dahut's trying desperately to get his coughing under control. He has so many blue flowers and petals in his lap and in the hand that's covering his mouth.]
—Sorry! I'm-- [COUGH.] -fine!
[A little poof of tiny blue petals flies out from between his fingers.]
You don't look it? [All these flowers help! She pulls a napkin from her pocket, and hands it to him, lightly patting at his back. She'll also guide him to a proper seat.]
[Mostly azure with a gentle sprinkling of marine... He will take the napkin, though, and let himself be led to sit.]
It's not-- so bad...
[He's dealt with so much worse TB before, this is fine!!! Though he is still wheezing tremendously and coughing up a few bits of petals here and there. At the very least, he seems to be strongarming the worst of it under control...]
[She's had something of a peek at the books on flowers in the libraries by now. Her off-hand knowledge is limited but she knows the blues tend to lean to — well. The blues.
She takes a seat at his side, still holding on. I forget if this is before or after power returns so I'm deciding after: with one hand to his back, she casts Cure Wounds.
His chest will clear and his throat will feel soothed, as if he's drunk tea with divine honey. The petals will stop for the moment. All ailment gone.]
[HE'S CURED... Magic is still wild to him especially since powers have been off this wholeass time so he's never actually witnessed it, and he blinks, clearly startled when everything calms down.]
Mm? Ah... [Touching his throat lightly and then glancing over to her.] ...Was that you?
[As for the question, WELL, YOU SEE. Sometimes you're a very private person who doesn't like their emotion flowers getting everywhere for everyone to see. He glances down at the petals, frowning.]
Yes, that was me. [With a small smile and a flourish of her fingers, a flame sparks to life dances in the middle of her palm.] I don't have a lot of magic. Just enough to help in a pinch.
[Don't rely on her for miracles or resurrections, but if you want wilderness survival baby she is your gal.
She closes the hand and the flame goes out.]
Why so? I would gladly welcome your company. You don't ever have to hide away from me, even if you're not feeling well.
Oh! [MAGIC. Damn, even knowing it's a thing for others it's still wild witnessing it for himself. He looks like he wants to reach out and touch it even though it's a fckin fire, but fortunately she closes her hand first. He offers a little smile.] Well... Thank you very much for the help. I feel better now...
[Physically, but alas, the emotional turmoil persists.]
I'd rather not trouble anyone, that's all. We all have so much we're dealing with, after all! The last thing I want to do is add to it even a tiny bit.
[ROSAMUND AND GREGOR OUT HERE WITH THE KILL SWEEP well. Dahut is alive! Again!! He's freshly cleaned and wearing a nice new outfit that isn't garbage stinkified, and he seems... very fine! Completely fine! There is a brightness about his mood that is maybe a little uncanny compared to his usual demeanor but that's surely fine, too!
He'll wave a hand and smile when he spots her, his head canting curiously to the side.]
Mademoiselle Rosamund! I believe I heard your voice earlier...?
[NOOOOOO ROSAMUND!!!! SHE'S SO SWEET and he is delighted to be scooped into a hug, even if it's with an unhinged air of optimism. He hugs her in return!! And pats her back so reassuringly!]
Oh, there's no need to look so sad! You all did your very best, I'm sure of it. And everyone is so strong that I'm equally sure they'll all feel perfectly fine in no time at all!
[Just like him! A perfectly fine-feeling normal lad!]
Oh, well, we went home! And then got caught up in a bit of trouble here and there, and ended up being experimented on for a bit, but at least I was able to get my mother out of there! We died, once or twice I believe? But everything worked out perfectly well in the end, considering we're all back in one piece!
[The demented optimism continues to shine through...]
Okay, none of what you said at all matches the tone you said it with. [Given how distraught he'd been over his Mother alone. Even when he'd approached with offers to euthanize the newly returned, he hadn't been peppy about it.]
jk it's one of the libraries. Rosamund is laying ponderously on the ground, a book open across her chest, staring at the ceiling. She's come to no profound conclusions about the what the lack of a murder means, and the plan to revive them all hasn't quite hit fruition, so she's waiting. Antsy, dry-mouthed. She doesn't startle when she hears footsteps. She just waits.]
Dahut will meander over, enjoying a brief reprieve from the insanity of his CYOA effects. Ah, clarity of mind! He misses you so much when you're gone! He'll settle down next to her, tucking his legs up.]
A little of that, a little of wanting to give everyone a break from dealing with my terrible side-effects, a little preemptive nostalgia...
[He's been here for so long, after all - longer than almost anyone, and losing this stupid fuckin Helly Belly represents losing a lot of things to him, in the same way he imagines it means to Rosamund.]
[Very grateful its standard edition Dahut for the moment. Alter Dahut can wait.]
Oh. So you did knew you weren't quite yourself. [Not that he wasn't cheery, but it was a more palatable brand of it. Less denial involved.]
Nostalgia? [Odd. She turns her head and blinks up at him, curious. Hesitant to say much about herself.] I suppose I'm all right, really. I just don't like having to sit on my heels and wait. I know we've got a plan underway and things didn't turn out like we expected last night, but it all feels a little too...tidy.
I can tell that I'm not acting quite right when I'm out of those moods, at least... When I'm in them, not so much!
[Which is just all kinds of frustrating but it's fine, it's fine.]
But yes! I've grown a bit attached. [HIS HELLY BELLY HOME... He didn't even spend much time in this library and when he did it was getting attacked by small flesh rats.] Worried about something going wrong at the last minute, then?
[She really hopes so. It's the strangest effects she's seen coming out of one these at all. At least he wasn't a ghost, like Sheba or Diluc.]
I can guess that, yeah. You've been down here an awfully long time, haven't you? [Much longer than he'd spent on the ship proper. She smiles up at him, folding one ankle over the other.]
There's more than enough time for it, yes. Or rather, I'm worried about what may happen after. There's a lot of loose ends to tie up.
U DONT HAVE TO TAG BACK i just prewrote this before return kicks it out of my tabs
Any way we can help it stop? I know it was...um. Likely an experiment, and you have your heart... [Frowns. Perhaps this is much less of her business than she's making it to be.] Well, I'm glad that there may be an end to it yet. I prefer you as you are, most certainly.
What would you miss most about this place? Or — actually, was there anything fun I missed? You all seemed to be having a lot of adventures down here.
Aha, it's actually just a lingering effect from the terrible adventure I went on. It should clear up on its own, so there's no need to worry! I can say wholeheartedly that I prefer me as I am, too.
[Bouncing between the wild highs and lows of insane hopeful optimism and unshakeable depression has been tiring for him and stressful for his memory bank... BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY:]
I do like the labs! [TERRIBLE.] And I'm not sure about fun, really... We didn't start having our parties until you showed up!
[Regrettably, Dahut is standing a little too close to a certain princess when a memory rift swallows them whole.
He finds himself looking through the eyes of Rosamund. It's a room in a dark inn, a candle of ominous importance on the table. Standing around are a motley crew, more fable than human. They speak, fretful but quick-paced, as if sensing they're on the verge of doing something they'll regret.
"Do you want privacy while you talk to your mom?"
"No, no. I'm not-"
Rosamund pipes up, "I'd like to meet your mom."
The little puppet boy fidgets on the spot. "Yeah, I'm not embarrassed of my mom. I mean, I've never had a mom before, so, I mean, I just... And she's just very..."
He hesitates. The candle flickers before him, waiting for his choice. Before he speaks, the old man panics and thrusts Rosamund — only Rosamund — into a closet.
The light in the crack of the door shifts. There's a sense of expansion. There's a scream — a woman, not anyone present before. A shadow stretches, vast, unknowable.
And by the time the madness ends, their saviour sums it all up with one concise phrase.
Dahut's dropping his plate of scones for the third time today, he really should just give up and leave them in the kitchen and tell everyone where to get them if they want any, damn.
That's a whole lot of wildness to take in in just a few moments, though - a few moments that simultaneously sure do feel strung out over years. As the vision fades, he's left gasping for breath, a hand rising to clutch at his chest over where his memory bank is struggling to process the onslaught of foreign, strong feeling.]
Rosamund immediately runs to his side. It's not the first time she's been flung back to this damnable moment, and for once she forgets her own panic. It's Dahut she's worried about. She remembers how he'd been laid out on the floor, under the labcoat. He's clutching at his chest now.
She bends to better meet him, hands settling at his shoulder and back. She speaks softly.]
It's okay. It's okay. Breathe deep, all right? Everything's going to be fine.
Sweet Rosamund is so caring, she should just let him splat onto the scones and become one with the void floor... He reaches out when she comes to support him, resting a hand on her arm in turn, the other still against his chest. At the very least, he doesn't seem to be on the precipice of launching into another fucky Reliver emotions spiral...]
Ah— I'm okay... [He always feels vaguely embarrassed when other people feel the need to console him from their own horrific memories.] --But are you?
[She nods fast as he asserts himself, but falters when he asks after her.]
Me? I... [Well then. He can catch a waft of her own dread, not just of a pulse-pounding encounter but of perceiving things best never seen. An awareness of something beyond her scope or power that might rend her apart if she turns to face it.
And exhaustion. A bone-weary exhaustion that betrays her easy cover and quick words.]
I'm fine. I've seen her before. I don't like having to see her again, but it's not the first time I've been made to.
[There's a beat.]
For what it's worth, I don't think she can do much to anyone any longer.
[They're emotions he sure can't blame her for feeling, given what it looked like she was dealing with. Even though the encounter wasn't his own, nor the dread or sensation of witnessing something unknowable, it's still hard to shake the lingering remnants of it so soon.]
...I'm glad. Something like that feels like it shouldn't exist. It's too big a threat.
[And big threats should always be eliminated, for the good of the people who would otherwise be destroyed by them.]
[And now comes the hard part: trying to put her nonsensical world into sensible terms. There's a line between her brows as she puzzles it all out.]
She was the Wicked Stepmother. She was a character in someone else's story, who was made only to be a villain so that the heroine could be loved. And when she discovered that — when she found out the truth of her existence, she decided she wanted to do something about it.
She found a way to leave our world, and to start devouring all the versions of her that ever existed. Then she started eating those that were close to her, or rather the role she played. Gaining power to...well, I suppose she wanted revenge on the people who made us.
[Damn he can understand going batshit after finding out that the entire purpose of your existence was just to be shitty and hated so everyone loved someone else, at least in theory. But what she became is still incomprehensible to him... Busting out of your book house and eating other versions of yourself really makes you into an eldritch monstrosity, huh.]
They should count themselves lucky that she was already stopped, then, all things considered.
[His shoulders hunch upward for just a moment as he still shakes off the lingering unease of WITNESSING THINGS best left in the shadows he hates it here.]
...I'm sorry you had to experience that, though. That was a horrible feeling...
[HELP you're right she is also bloody and a bit soggy maybe?]
Oh, no, nothing that I couldn't fix with a heal gun. [Getting slashed by monster Puss in Boots was less than fun, but she didn't suffer the worst of it. Just a slap from heart tentacles too.] What about you? I heard you were in a bad way after a brush with the organs...
[A BIT SOGGY. Life's rough out there... He will pat her arms fondly.]
Mm? Oh! Yes, yes - I almost died, but fortunately Monsieur Temenos was there to help heal me again. No dying this side of the Helly Belly! ...Well, I guess we were back in the Helly Belly at the time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
WEEK 0: First Saturday
I've never in my life had a meal where the meat tasted just like the vegetables.
[Which in turn taste like sawdust.]
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Good news, good news! I have access to the kitchen, so I can see if there are any good ingredients there that I can use to whip up something tastier!
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I mean I've eaten rough meals before. I can put up with plenty! It's no trouble, I mean it.
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[Dahut just running into the kitchen not to steal all of the knives but to make so much food, as you do...]
What sort of things do you like to eat? I'll see what I can do!
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[As much as she misses cakes and roast suckling pig and all manners of extravagance? Her gurgling belly is calling for something more down to earth.]
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[JUST ABANDONS HER IN THE MESS HALL it's fine, it's for the benefit of a good ol' fashioned hearty stew...]
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[He's gone? So small and yet so fast.
Except she's not letting him get away that easy. Rosamund bursts into the kitchen after him.]
At least let me help!
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Oh! I would love for you to be able to, but I don't think you can actually enter... You would have to ask one of our senior friends for access, I think.
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[But...it's a kitchen.]
Could it be there's something secret inside?
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[THE GOOD STUFF IS IN THE KITCHEN.]
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[GASP.
the plot can wait, she must know]
Show me!
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[THE SECRET SPICES... THEY'RE JUST NORMAL SPICES BUT THEY'RE WHAT THE PREMADE FOOD IS LACKING.]
Paprika, rosemary, cumin, parsley... They really have it all!
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If they have all these, then why don't they season the food?
[WHERE IS THE MANAGER]
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Probably because it's general food meant to serve the population on a whole! Since it's impossible to predict everyone's tastes and allergies, it's best to keep it suuuper simple, right?
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....Why not just offer two options and let the people decide for themselves?
[What a waste. She picks up a bottle of paprika with a budding pout. Should she tuck it away for later?]
Actually, now that we're in here, should we take a closer look around the place? I do love a secret spice! But there could always be something more exciting to find.
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Oh, absolutely! I've found a few fun things already! And I can finish making something tasty for you later, if that's alright.
[AND THEY CAN GO DO THAT and i can set you free of weekend pcs so we can move on to fresh ones heheh]
w0 mon
Whenever Rosamund is next moseying through the observation deck/lounge area, she might be in for a little surprise! It's perhaps a bit hard to see things well between the darkness of space stretching out beyond the windows and how often people tend to look out through them instead of at the floor, so maybe she'll bump into it.
It being a pile of white fabric on the floor. Investigate??]
w0man.....
Rosamund bends down to peruse it. Delicately, with one hand, she prods a safe looking lump.]
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It's a foot! A Dahut foot, attached to the rest of the Dahut that's currently balled up under this balled up coat. He doesn't seem to respond outside of that just yet, though. The emotional spread is, as always, slightly off kilter - like something very nearly human - and a tiny bit muted, though notably less so than Scien. The most notable thing right now is this funkyass cyclical panic, though! That's fun. It's just a feeling of panic that seems to fade a bit, flicker like an electronic about to shortcircuit, and then surge again, over and over.]
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She's keyed into the sensations at once. Thankfully she's had enough troublesome run ins to know that her pulse is spiking due to his distress, not any of her own. And there's a strange squeeze on the emotional front, too. Is that just the mercurial transfer between them?
Rosamund moves to her knees and switches to a gentle hold on his shoulder. For her own part she projects a grounded warmth. Not quite maternal, but of a kind with it.]
Dahut, it's Rosamund. Can you hear me all right?
[She might try to edge the coat off his head a little. Eye contact would help, or at least she could gauge his mood better. He's giving off such a jumbled cacaphony right now.]
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Goodbye coat... She can do that, he won't kick up a fuss. In fact, as soon as he hears another voice, it's like he remembers he's inhabiting a human body that is just sort of existing in the middle of the fuckin floor! Goddamn! He shifts a little, peeking out from under the fabric and letting her move however much she wants of it.]
Oh— Good day, Mademoiselle Rosamund... I don't seem to have made it to the seats.
[THANKS SIR.]
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Hey, that's all right. You have no idea how many times I've laid on the ground dying. Happens to the best of us!
[She will brush his hair aside and check for fever, even she's certain it's not a regular illness. Then she'll lift him slightly, set his head on her lap (very mindful of the brairs) and stroke the hair back in place.]
Tell me what happened, okay?
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He'll just close his eyes for a moment, like he's reestablishing his bearings or maybe indulging in a bit of nostalgia.]
You should stop lying on the ground dying... It's not very comfortable. [PLEASE DON'T DIE ANYWHERE??? There's a little sigh after that, though.]
I think... being around sooo many people with all of those big, big emotions was a little much for me, ehe...
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Not having a fever is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because sickness in closed spaces is so dangerous. A curse because the cure just became that much more murky. And he is just bleeding loneliness, a grief that pricks her own heart in just the echoes.]
You mean that weird sharing thing that's going on? [She can imagine it could turn into something scary. It was already creepy to start with.] Was there anyone in particular that hurt to be near?
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He opens his eyes again, fixing her with his freaky lil multicolored stare.]
That, most likely. [There's a little flicker of a smile; he'd nod, if he wasn't comfortably situated.] It's no one in particular, really... There are just a lot of emotions, you know? A lot all at once. Even I have trouble processing that.
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That's okay. Sometimes too much of a good thing can hurt you. Not that all the sharing is good, but. I think it's very sweet that you're so receptive.
[She will begin to stroke his hair anew, this time more to calm than correct. It doesn't seem like he's against the touch. She knows some people don't like to be coddled, and that's okay too.]
Why don't we wait a little while together? If you need to sleep, I don't mind. You don't have to talk. [She smiles.] Whatever you need, I'm happy to help.
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Aha, I don't know that I'd call it sweet... Silly, maybe! [He would have made better modifications if he knew he was going to be flavorblasted by 38 other people's emotions...
He does seem to be fine with this, though. The tender sort of pang in his emotions surfaces again; his smile is a little nostalgic, and the wistfulness makes him seem both older and younger than what his face alone would suggest.]
...It's been a looong time since anyone's fussed over me like this. [A little blip of mother.] You're kind of heart to be donating your time... Thank you very much. [A smile! It's smaller than usual, but the sort with a warmth genuine enough to make his eyes crinkle.] I won't take up too too much of your time, or it'd just be greedy of me, ehe! Buuut... maybe just another minute or two. We can still talk! I'll just rest my eyes for a moment.
[And he will! And maybe he'll end up dozing a little in this comforting familiarity right after struggling with his stupid, complex heart, and maybe that's fine.]
w4 weds
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Also she's got suspicions now. Gives a little wave?]
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AND THEN STARTS ZOOMING OVER. As soon as he's close enough, he throws a hand out toward her?!]
Hi! Let's go!
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What you do—huh?
[Okay but who is she to deny a mystery invitation? Rosamund stupidly takes a stranger's hand and follows]
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Except he doesn't. He just GOES IN FOR A HUG!! Which is probably weird for the 2 seconds that this is still Pixel Arthur, but his pixel form glitches into Pixel Dahut soon enough.]
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Anyway she is getting flashbacks to getting hella bit at the vampire club (ragret) until the attack comes in the form of tender hug.
And then it's a familiar head of green hair.
She gasps aloud.]
You!
[Then she's squeezing him just as tight. No briars in vr land to worry about she can do this all night.]
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Anyway, NOT THE "YOU". Dahut just laughs, a light and chiming sound, or as much of a laugh as he can get out before they're both HUGGING EACH OTHER SO TIGHT. He rests his head against her for a moment, beaming and radiating the energy of a very social person who has been stuck with introverts for weeks.]
Me! Surprise! I missed you...!
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I-I missed you too! Dahut, how are you — is it because this is a virtual place? I know you can speak through the message system, but I never imagined seeing—
[Oops he's Arthur again.]
—hearing your voice again.
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Anyway low poly Arthur just makes a sad face...]
I know! I get to hear your voices all of the time, but it's really not the same as talking to you directly! Neither are the letters or messages... I miss everyone sooo much! But I'm glad you guys are still alive!
[He would not sacrifice the ship just to be less lonely.]
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[She pulls back and holds him by both cheeks, looking into his (pixel) eyes.]
Are you well? Have you all made peace with each other?
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I'm sorry... I was trying really hard to survive! But I ended up leaving behind a mess... [WEEK 0 BAT TO EVERYONE'S KNEES.
But he nods at that!]
Mm! We're about as well as we can be, and everyone's getting along nicely. Everyone's pretty level-headed, fortunately, and we all understand that hands are being forced here.
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[She pulls back to cup him by both cheeks, looking direct into his eyes.]
You wanted to live. You did your best. None of it is your fault, and you should never feel ashamed about what happened, not for our sakes.
[The report heartens her though. She smiles down at him.]
That's wonderful. Truly, I'm so relieved. Once I was told the dead may still be present in some way, I was worried about what might be happening to you all.
Please, explain everything you can. I want to help you.
ME WRITING THIS TAG BEFORE TRIAL AND THEN WATCHING YOUR MURDERHANDS EMERGE
...Thank you very much, Mademoiselle Rosamund. You're very kind-hearted...
[Will he still feel a little guilty MAYBE SO. But being told that it wasn't his fault is a nice thing to hear. But! He just nods in response, smiling a little more brightly.]
I'm glad we can deliver some good news, then! Though I don't really know how much I can explain without it being blocked... Um! We're in the Helly Belly, and we miiight be- [STATIC NOISES.] -but we're doing okay so far! It might be because of our version of your Wednesday activities? Oh, and we're- [WOOD SAWING NOISES.] -probably!
w5 weds OUR OWN MEMSHARE!!!!!
[Fortunately they will not, but he's cautious just in case. That flower, as well as the entire field spread out before them, is a blanket of red spider lilies - but they're all jet-black, making for a striking contrast with the blue of the sea and sky.
He also glances back behind them toward where the rift has SEALED THEM IN. "it opens if they visit it" not this time it doesn't.]
...Unfortunately, I think we'll have to proceed through whatever nonsense is here first. Just take care, okay?
OURS! NO ONE ELSE'S!!!!!
Sorry!
[They're just so unusual? Perhaps that was the first sign they should not be trusted.]
...All right. [She nods slowly. Her first steps are cautious, and she'll reach for the boy's hand as they go.]
I take it this is something from your past?
BUNNYKICKS THE REST AWAY
[Because this happens SO OFTEN... He'll hold her hand, though, making his careful way through the flowers. There's a little path that cuts through, so they can walk without stepping on any - and he's cautious not to.]
...It is, most likely. Or at least, this cliffside is one I'm very familiar with.
[Which, speaking of: though the sun was only just hanging a few feet above the horizon, it starts to set at an unnaturally fast clip, entirely set in just seconds. Overhead, the clouds scatter, and a big, full moon hangs over them.
The scent of the ocean also mingles with something more acrid. She's probably familiar with the iron tang of blood by now.]
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[No picking them, absolutely.
The scent does hit her nostrils with a sharp urgency. Rosamund straightens, scanning for the source.]
There's blood. Is someone hurt?
[Or worse.]
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[It's a simple answer despite what it means, but Dahut - whose free hand has been resting against his stomach - shifts to hold his stomach more fully and hunches just the tiniest bit, like he's reluctant to press on despite continuing to do so.
There's a figure in the swaying flowers up ahead, lying prone among them. The scent of blood in this area is so heavy and thick that it's enough to make anyone with a weaker stomach gag. Dahut's steps slow, contrasting the reaction of someone who's normally prone to throwing himself into dangerous situations to help others who need it.]
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She's not easily quailed by violence or gore. It's more the emotion behind it that balks her — hence her frequent outbursts at executions, the least fair battles she's ever witnessed. When it's a body, it's just a body.
Which is what it looks like they'll find today. When he slows she looks down at him, considering him carefully.]
I can go ahead alone if you prefer. You don't have to look again, not if you don't want to.
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There's a moment of quiet at the suggestion, though it's not because he's thinking over his answer. Rather, it seems at first like he might not have even heard it, his gaze firmly fixed on the figure. It seems perfectly still, so maybe she's right - a body, just a body.
But eventually, he shakes his head and slips his hand away from hers.]
I have to look, every time. [Penance, maybe. A sense of duty. Even if it isn't real, how could he just leave things like this? Then, softly:] You can wait here, if you'd like. I don't want to burden you.
[But he won't stop her if she decides to follow along as he steps away from the little trail and into the flowers. She'll just have to take care; the carpet of them is thick, though many have already been snapped and flattened as they draw closer.]
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[It's not something he would enjoy sharing, of course. She suspects the point of these rifts is to peel back your layers and show your guts to whoever was strung along with you. She might not have a choice in looking either.
So they move together. She treads as carefully as she can. It's something she's used to, forests and greenery were her terrain. The blossoms may be odd and overgrown but she takes the trampled path, moving slow after Dahut.
She looks to the bloodied mess ahead.]
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As they approach, she'll be able to get a good look at the figure: it's the body of a young woman dressed in resplendent royal silks, torn to shreds and dyed such a deep red that it looks as black as the flowers under the moonlight. Her beautiful dusty brown hair is streaked with blood, her arms and legs bent at painful-looking angles, as though god discarded her here like a broken doll. She's covered in violent injuries and her eyes stare half-lidded and unseeing into the night sky.
Then, her mouth just barely moves.
Liam... My sweet boy, is that you...?
The way he literally just got done scolding Scien about entertaining these hallucinations, but what else can he do? He immediately moves to kneel by her side, reaching for her cold and bloody hand, everything about him so openly tender.]
Yes - it's me, Mother. I've come to see you and I've brought a wonderful friend along with me... She's kind enough to come all this way.
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This isn't the time to ask. There's a woman here, abandoned. Left for dead more like. Rosamund's heart sinks the second she lays eyes on her, barely restraining herself from rushing to her side. It's not real, she reminds herself, taking in the splayed limbs and the sour blood, there's nothing that can be changed here.
Dahut has no such qualms. He's at her side at once, with such open emotion that it shocks her. Yes his heart had been purposefully expanded, but she's had it impressed upon her time and again that they are not at all the same. The capacity isn't there for love.
Then what do you call this?]
Hello. [Rosamund looks to Dahut apprehensively, then kneels at his side. She brushes some of the hair out of the woman's face. "Mother." Literally, or figuratively? And why was she calling him "Liam?"] I'm Rosamund. Your Liam is a...a lovely boy.
[Good lord, what can she even say?]
Miss, is there anything we can do to help?
FEEL BETTER SOON SWEET KABBY AAAAAAA
He doesn't seem at all bothered by it, though. Rather, it's like he doesn't even notice. His gaze is fixed so wholly on this battered woman that it's a miracle he's even thinking to include Rosamund in this mess at all, but he does seem to stay aware of her throughout.
The woman reaches up with her other hand - or tries to, and fails, and Dahut catches that one too and leans down so she can place her bloodied palm on his cheek.
You've made... a friend? How lovely... She wheezes out her words with rattling lungs. Despite the pain she must be in, she carries on like this is a normal conversation and she isn't bleeding out in a poisonous field. She turns her cloudy gaze toward Rosamund.
How wonderful to meet... you, madamemoiselle... What a kind young woman... She looks, maybe, like she's trying for a smile, but doesn't even seem to have the strength for that. As if saying what anyone in this situation would think, gravely but with apology: There is nothing more that can be done... And then, to Dahut: Oh, my darling Liam... I'll leave the rest to you... Never forget that your mother loves you so very, very much...]
Of course, I never will. I'll always remember. I love you, too, Mother...
[She gives his cheek one gentle, shaky stroke and then seems to still, and he just sits there unmoving, too, even with the press of miasma growing more potent with every second. Rosamund might taste iron in her mouth soon enough.]
I'M TRYIN MAN
She doesn't dare interrupt now. These last words are wasted on her, illusion or not. Her eyes go to Dahut. A sweet, gentle boy, no matter how unusual or long-lived, sitting on the ground, watching a woman who he calls mother fade away.
There's wetness at her cheeks soon. She averts her eyes for the last. It's too private. Too terrible to take from him, not in this sense. When the quiet lingers after her breath halts, Rosamund can taste it. Blood, all in the back of her throat.
She suppresses a cough. Instead her hand returns to Dahut's back, rubbing slow.]
I'm so sorry, Dahut. I'm so terribly sorry...
THE FLU RLY CAME FOR YOU...
At least he's well-aware of the fact that it's an illusion this time. The hand at his back and gentle words are enough to draw him away, and he gently sets his mother's hand over her chest and draws her eyelids shut.]
...Thank you, Mademoiselle Rosamund. Even after all these years, it's still... well. Some things don't go away with time, I guess.
[But he'll cough into his hand after that, give his mother's body one last stare, and then rise to stand. With his non-bloody hand, he'll reach back out for one of hers.]
Shall we see if that's enough to leave?
it did, bursts into tears!!!!
[How could it? The loss of family was knife that could never be dislodged. That wound may close over but blade stays snapped off within, gutting you anew when you twist just the right way.
She takes his hand, searching his eyes. If he'll let her, if he'll look at him. She'll take the lead now with a nod and soft steps forward.]
I should hope it is.
[Let him rest. That's enough for one day.
As they walk the scene evaporates, and they are back in the dank air of the Helly Belly. At once she breathes easier, though her chest remains taught and stinging.]
What happened to her?
OUR MEMSHARE BEFORE MEMSHARE 2
Thank you. [THEY'RE FREE THOUGH YIPPEE. Back in the Helly Belly and so glad for it... What a time to be alive. Or undead. It's fine. He gives her hand a little squeeze, clearing his throat from the last lingering feeling of lycoris poison. A beat as he considers, and then:]
She was assassinated by the rest of our family and left in that field. I was around five at the time, so it's been quite a while.
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What? [She looks to him, appalled.] Why? For what? Their own mother?
[Or wife. Or daughter.]
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Also that's such a mood! He's constantly appalled by his own terrible family! His shoulders raise into a sloping shrug.]
People do horrible things when the opportunity to grab power presents itself. I was my mother's only child and my father died when I was just a baby, but our family is fairly large and full of very ravenous people.
w6 mon
Anyway, as she's wandering through, her peaceful lil walk will be interrupted by the sound of someone apparently coughing themselves to death behind a pillar.]
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Hello? [Immediate concern. She moves towards the pillar, one hand outstretched tentatively.] Hello, are you — Dahut!
[Fussing at once! She rubs at his back and holds him by the shoulder.]
Are you all right? Should I find some water? Are you sick?
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Anyway thank you very much for the comforting backrub, Dahut's trying desperately to get his coughing under control. He has so many blue flowers and petals in his lap and in the hand that's covering his mouth.]
—Sorry! I'm-- [COUGH.] -fine!
[A little poof of tiny blue petals flies out from between his fingers.]
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You don't look it? [All these flowers help! She pulls a napkin from her pocket, and hands it to him, lightly patting at his back. She'll also guide him to a proper seat.]
Come now, sit down. Take it easy, breathe...
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It's not-- so bad...
[He's dealt with so much worse TB before, this is fine!!! Though he is still wheezing tremendously and coughing up a few bits of petals here and there. At the very least, he seems to be strongarming the worst of it under control...]
—Sorry to worry you...
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She takes a seat at his side, still holding on. I forget if this is before or after power returns so I'm deciding after: with one hand to his back, she casts Cure Wounds.
His chest will clear and his throat will feel soothed, as if he's drunk tea with divine honey. The petals will stop for the moment. All ailment gone.]
Don't be sorry. You're not troubling me at all.
Were you hiding back there?
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Mm? Ah... [Touching his throat lightly and then glancing over to her.] ...Was that you?
[As for the question, WELL, YOU SEE. Sometimes you're a very private person who doesn't like their emotion flowers getting everywhere for everyone to see. He glances down at the petals, frowning.]
...I just wanted to be out of the way.
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[Don't rely on her for miracles or resurrections, but if you want wilderness survival baby she is your gal.
She closes the hand and the flame goes out.]
Why so? I would gladly welcome your company. You don't ever have to hide away from me, even if you're not feeling well.
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[Physically, but alas, the emotional turmoil persists.]
I'd rather not trouble anyone, that's all. We all have so much we're dealing with, after all! The last thing I want to do is add to it even a tiny bit.
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You wouldn't be. At least I don't think so. Did someone tell you it was bothersome?
w6 thurs
He'll wave a hand and smile when he spots her, his head canting curiously to the side.]
Mademoiselle Rosamund! I believe I heard your voice earlier...?
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...You did.
[Okay fuck this she immediately scoops him into a hug.]
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Oh, there's no need to look so sad! You all did your very best, I'm sure of it. And everyone is so strong that I'm equally sure they'll all feel perfectly fine in no time at all!
[Just like him! A perfectly fine-feeling normal lad!]
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Of course I am! I'm doing wonderfully. After all, everything will turn out just fine, even if things are a little tough right now!
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Really? [A beat.] Then, would you mind telling me about what happened today?
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[The demented optimism continues to shine through...]
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Okay, none of what you said at all matches the tone you said it with. [Given how distraught he'd been over his Mother alone. Even when he'd approached with offers to euthanize the newly returned, he hadn't been peppy about it.]
What experiment was it?
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It wasn't just one experiment, but a true plethora. Not sure what information that person was trying to glean, but he took us apart very thoroughly!
[He is radiating an aura of beatific saintly forgiveness!]
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Dahut, that's not good. That's terrifying. Can't Scien help put you back the way you were?
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What do you mean? I'm perfectly wonderful, all in one piece!
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This blind optimism thing isn't good, and it's not you.
WEEK 6: Friday
jk it's one of the libraries. Rosamund is laying ponderously on the ground, a book open across her chest, staring at the ceiling. She's come to no profound conclusions about the what the lack of a murder means, and the plan to revive them all hasn't quite hit fruition, so she's waiting. Antsy, dry-mouthed. She doesn't startle when she hears footsteps. She just waits.]
Not sure what to do, either?
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Dahut will meander over, enjoying a brief reprieve from the insanity of his CYOA effects. Ah, clarity of mind! He misses you so much when you're gone! He'll settle down next to her, tucking his legs up.]
A little of that, a little of wanting to give everyone a break from dealing with my terrible side-effects, a little preemptive nostalgia...
[He's been here for so long, after all - longer than almost anyone, and losing this stupid fuckin Helly Belly represents losing a lot of things to him, in the same way he imagines it means to Rosamund.]
How are you feeling?
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Oh. So you did knew you weren't quite yourself. [Not that he wasn't cheery, but it was a more palatable brand of it. Less denial involved.]
Nostalgia? [Odd. She turns her head and blinks up at him, curious. Hesitant to say much about herself.] I suppose I'm all right, really. I just don't like having to sit on my heels and wait. I know we've got a plan underway and things didn't turn out like we expected last night, but it all feels a little too...tidy.
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[Which is just all kinds of frustrating but it's fine, it's fine.]
But yes! I've grown a bit attached. [HIS HELLY BELLY HOME... He didn't even spend much time in this library and when he did it was getting attacked by small flesh rats.] Worried about something going wrong at the last minute, then?
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[She really hopes so. It's the strangest effects she's seen coming out of one these at all. At least he wasn't a ghost, like Sheba or Diluc.]
I can guess that, yeah. You've been down here an awfully long time, haven't you? [Much longer than he'd spent on the ship proper. She smiles up at him, folding one ankle over the other.]
There's more than enough time for it, yes. Or rather, I'm worried about what may happen after. There's a lot of loose ends to tie up.
U DONT HAVE TO TAG BACK i just prewrote this before return kicks it out of my tabs
Not really... But the last time I had to deal with something like this, it didn't really lessen, either. It just stopped.
[HE HOPES IT WILL DO THAT THIS TIME TOO or he'll just die.]
But yes, I have! Almost two months now... [Much, much longer than the time he'd spent on the ship.]
That's a fair concern, though. Always the loose ends...
binch i WILL write back
Any way we can help it stop? I know it was...um. Likely an experiment, and you have your heart... [Frowns. Perhaps this is much less of her business than she's making it to be.] Well, I'm glad that there may be an end to it yet. I prefer you as you are, most certainly.
What would you miss most about this place? Or — actually, was there anything fun I missed? You all seemed to be having a lot of adventures down here.
REACHES MY PAWS FOR U
Aha, it's actually just a lingering effect from the terrible adventure I went on. It should clear up on its own, so there's no need to worry! I can say wholeheartedly that I prefer me as I am, too.
[Bouncing between the wild highs and lows of insane hopeful optimism and unshakeable depression has been tiring for him and stressful for his memory bank... BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY:]
I do like the labs! [TERRIBLE.] And I'm not sure about fun, really... We didn't start having our parties until you showed up!
WEEK 7: Monday ((cw: body/edritch horror, cannibalism, threatening minors, squelching noises))
He finds himself looking through the eyes of Rosamund. It's a room in a dark inn, a candle of ominous importance on the table. Standing around are a motley crew, more fable than human. They speak, fretful but quick-paced, as if sensing they're on the verge of doing something they'll regret.
"Do you want privacy while you talk to your mom?"
"No, no. I'm not-"
Rosamund pipes up, "I'd like to meet your mom."
The little puppet boy fidgets on the spot. "Yeah, I'm not embarrassed of my mom. I mean, I've never had a mom before, so, I mean, I just... And she's just very..."
He hesitates. The candle flickers before him, waiting for his choice. Before he speaks, the old man panics and thrusts Rosamund — only Rosamund — into a closet.
From there, things get strange.
The light in the crack of the door shifts. There's a sense of expansion. There's a scream — a woman, not anyone present before. A shadow stretches, vast, unknowable.
And by the time the madness ends, their saviour sums it all up with one concise phrase.
"What the fuck was that?"]
((Watch from 17:39-End))
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Dahut's dropping his plate of scones for the third time today, he really should just give up and leave them in the kitchen and tell everyone where to get them if they want any, damn.
That's a whole lot of wildness to take in in just a few moments, though - a few moments that simultaneously sure do feel strung out over years. As the vision fades, he's left gasping for breath, a hand rising to clutch at his chest over where his memory bank is struggling to process the onslaught of foreign, strong feeling.]
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Rosamund immediately runs to his side. It's not the first time she's been flung back to this damnable moment, and for once she forgets her own panic. It's Dahut she's worried about. She remembers how he'd been laid out on the floor, under the labcoat. He's clutching at his chest now.
She bends to better meet him, hands settling at his shoulder and back. She speaks softly.]
It's okay. It's okay. Breathe deep, all right? Everything's going to be fine.
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Sweet Rosamund is so caring, she should just let him splat onto the scones and become one with the void floor... He reaches out when she comes to support him, resting a hand on her arm in turn, the other still against his chest. At the very least, he doesn't seem to be on the precipice of launching into another fucky Reliver emotions spiral...]
Ah— I'm okay... [He always feels vaguely embarrassed when other people feel the need to console him from their own horrific memories.] --But are you?
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Me? I... [Well then. He can catch a waft of her own dread, not just of a pulse-pounding encounter but of perceiving things best never seen. An awareness of something beyond her scope or power that might rend her apart if she turns to face it.
And exhaustion. A bone-weary exhaustion that betrays her easy cover and quick words.]
I'm fine. I've seen her before. I don't like having to see her again, but it's not the first time I've been made to.
[There's a beat.]
For what it's worth, I don't think she can do much to anyone any longer.
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...I'm glad. Something like that feels like it shouldn't exist. It's too big a threat.
[And big threats should always be eliminated, for the good of the people who would otherwise be destroyed by them.]
But-- what was she...?
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You're right. She shouldn't.
[And now comes the hard part: trying to put her nonsensical world into sensible terms. There's a line between her brows as she puzzles it all out.]
She was the Wicked Stepmother. She was a character in someone else's story, who was made only to be a villain so that the heroine could be loved. And when she discovered that — when she found out the truth of her existence, she decided she wanted to do something about it.
She found a way to leave our world, and to start devouring all the versions of her that ever existed. Then she started eating those that were close to her, or rather the role she played. Gaining power to...well, I suppose she wanted revenge on the people who made us.
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They should count themselves lucky that she was already stopped, then, all things considered.
[His shoulders hunch upward for just a moment as he still shakes off the lingering unease of WITNESSING THINGS best left in the shadows he hates it here.]
...I'm sorry you had to experience that, though. That was a horrible feeling...
[Even just as a witness, that was truly wild.]
WEEK 7: Saturday
You saved us! I can't believe it! That last shot? Incredible!
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Aha, thank you, thank you! Our team really managed to do some good at the tail end...
[Since they BUNGLED THE FIRST PART SO BAD.]
Are you doing okay? No injuries?
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Oh, no, nothing that I couldn't fix with a heal gun. [Getting slashed by monster Puss in Boots was less than fun, but she didn't suffer the worst of it. Just a slap from heart tentacles too.] What about you? I heard you were in a bad way after a brush with the organs...
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Mm? Oh! Yes, yes - I almost died, but fortunately Monsieur Temenos was there to help heal me again. No dying this side of the Helly Belly! ...Well, I guess we were back in the Helly Belly at the time.