terribibble | Ryslig IC Contact

[Fiddleford slides sideways just enough that he can reach down and brush his fingers through Marco's hair. He leaves the TV on; the sound is low enough to be soothing white noise instead of a distraction.

For a long moment he doesn't speak. He's trying to figure out the right words to say what he wants to without making this a more stressful conversation than it needs to be, and that's hard.]

Things just aren't makin' sense like they should, is all. If He was turnin' us back wouldn't He have said? He likes makin' a point of when he's done somethin' she won't like.

[He hates having to say this, but it's been gnawing at him for a long while now.]

I... Marco, I'm startin' to worry that maybe -- maybe we're seein' somethin' that's not there. Not that I'm sayin' He's evil, or, or ... I don't know. I don't know what I'm sayin'.

[It's a good effort, Fiddleford. It really is. But the fact is that Marco's blood runs cold the moment the words "seeing something that's not there" are said.

He turns his head to look at Fiddleford and for a moment that seems to drag on and on, Marco could almost swear the axis of the Earth has shifted. His train of thought gets started - why would Fiddleford say such a thing? - and then suddenly it's barreling on forward at top speed, aided by the voice of a fake god:

It's not the real Fiddleford.

He barely gets to wonder how that might be before the possibilities start piling on - the Fog God's sent some sort of shapeshifter, it's that shade again, the Fiddleford from the lake was never Fiddleford at all but now he's blended in, wormed his way into his heart--

Marco isn't sure what allows him to pull on the brakes - maybe it's Fiddleford's hand on his hair, or maybe it's just looking at him. Maybe it's neither, and lucidity has just happened to break through.]

Stop!

[Whatever the reason, he abruptly brings a hand to his forehead, fingers tense and forceful as if intent on stopping that train all by themselves.]

Don't, I won't allow you, y-you can't turn me against him, he's the best I've got...!

[It's not Fiddleford he's talking to.]

[The outburst startles Fiddleford and he pulls his hand back. For just a moment he thinks Marco might be talking to him, might not want to be touched, but then Marco continues and he realizes it's not what he's doing that Marco's having trouble with.

It's the voices again. An uncomfortable weight settles in the pit of his stomach the same way it always does when he's confronted with a problem he desperately wants to fix and doesn't have a solution for. Gingerly he puts his hand back, because in the short term comfort is about all he can give.]

Shh, shh, honey. Whatever they're sayin', you know it's not true. I'm sorry I -- I didn't mean to get them started.

[He still feels weird, talking about the voices Marco hears like they're real entities, but it's easier than treating Marco like he's insane. He couldn't bring himself to do that. Besides, they feel real to Marco, don't they? It's better to deal with them this way. He's still going to hear the voices either way.]

It's just been worryin' me is all. Ever since Kira -- well he said some things and I haven't been able to shake them off.

I know. I know. It's not your fault...

[Marco leans into Fiddleford's touch, closes his eyes and breathes in deep. He can still hear them, but remembering that Fiddleford is here - and he loves him and he is real - makes them easier to bear, somehow. Easier to treat as background noise.

He certainly won't share what they're saying, though.]

... What did he tell you? [He huffs. His last few conversations with Kira have been... frustrating.]

That... that Elias thought the same way he did. That His goal is to destroy, just -- just in a different way. That He's not as concerned with helpin' people as we want to think.

And I don't want to believe Kira, but why would He have directed folks to kill parts of the peninsula otherwise? He didn't plan to fix them after. They were goin' to stay like that, forever, just ... dead. How does that help anyone? Why would He have given Kira any sort of power unless He doesn't care at all about the kind of person Kira is? He could have asked either of us to be a conduit for him and He didn't. He went to Kira first.

That scares me, Marco.

[He has to focus on Fiddleford's touch. He has to focus on Fiddleford, because if he doesn't, the divine impostor will get louder again.

Marco wrings his hands.]

W-We would have been too obvious. Too clear of a target. You saw how quickly people went after us both.

[Kira had told him the same thing - that he was deluded about what Elias really wants. "He thinks you're crazy too." Stop. Don't go there. Focus.]

The... The park isn't dead. [He's had this conversation too. No one believes him. Reira didn't believe him. Reira outright contradicted him. Even children think he's weird. Crazy.] Elias, He... He drove the Fog God's power away. And it was buried so deep that... that... that happened. Nature will recover. In time.

[He feels a deep urge, at his core, to run and lock himself somewhere.]

[Privately, Fiddleford is deeply unsettled to find that he doesn't entirely believe what Marco's saying. He considers pressing the issue, but he isn't sure how to do it in a way that won't make this into a conversation he really doesn't want to have.]

I hope... god, I hope you're right about that. I want you to be.

[He wants to ask Elias about it, really, but he's very scared of the answer he might get.]

You're right, He shouldn't have gone with us instead, but He could have chosen someone like Lorraine, someone decent. You have to see why I'm concerned.

[Marco opens his mouth--

He can't say Elias must have chosen the ones He would have minded seeing killed the least. He can't, because a child was a conduit too, because innocent people died too, because that would have been heartless too.

He closes his mouth and thinks some more.]

... What if this was a... a countermeasure? Something He had to rush through. The Fog God made a move and-- and He couldn't plan all the finer details.

But --

[He stops, sighs. Pushes his glasses up with his free hand to rub his eyes. This conversation is giving him that feeling of heat and pressure he gets when he's just the wrong mix of anxious and frustrated, and he hates it. It's not Marco's fault. It's his own for doubting.]

Maybe. Maybe that was it. God, I don't know.

It's done now. It's done now and it's mostly been put right. Just -- we just have to move forward. That's about all we can do.

[He wasn't expecting to convince Fiddleford just like that. It's fine. He doesn't exactly think he's right this time, either. In any case, that's not even the worst part of all this - the worst part is how clear it is that they see what's been happening very differently, and how easy it is for him to believe that means Fiddleford might not be so trustworthy anymore.

The latter, in particular, frightens him.]

We stop and she wins. That's always been the case.

[And yet... he's still tired.]

...Do you ever feel like it? [His voice grows quieter.] Like stopping? Does she... ever make you feel like it would just be easier to give up? [Or is he just weak?]

[He isn't convinced. He isn't remotely convinced and that's the worst part of this, that he feels as though he can't push too hard to try and reconcile these things because if he does it's just going to make Marco that much more agitated. The last thing he wants is to make things worse for Marco when he's trying so hard to just keep it together. He'll just have to keep chewing it over privately. He'll... he'll work it out. It's fine. He'll find a solution for this problem. That's what he's good at.]

... Sometimes.

[Stroking Marco's hair is by this point just as much for his own comfort as Marco's. It's a nice repetitive motion that he doesn't have to think about, something to do with his hand to keep him from fidgeting out all his stress.]

But I never -- I mean I never seriously consider it. I couldn't. I have to be doin' somethin', Marco, you know how I am. And sometimes that somethin' is restin' up so I can have enough energy to keep goin' at all, but that's still somethin'.

[Despite everything, he appreciates Fiddleford's touch. It's calming, grounding. It doesn't improve his mood, exactly, but it makes it easier to bear. Maybe that's the best he can hope for right now.]

Right-- Don't... Don't get me wrong. I've never seriously considered it either. Not seriously. It's just...

[It's the fact that he barely feels like working some days, it's those times when he just wants to retreat into his room and not even sleep but just sit there and listen and take it, it's the overwhelming nature of it all. It's not "just."]

... The water's relaxing. It... It's soothing. But it's also her. I mean-- I mean, it's her doing. It's my grave. It's a grave.

[Well -- well. That escalated quickly, didn't it. Fiddleford looks down at Marco, a little alarmed, and then his expression softens and his shoulders slump.]

Marco, honey. It's not -- it's more complicated than that. You can... [Oh, god, he's got to phrase this right.] You can take comfort in somethin' without it bein' evil. Imagine if I forced myself to stop usin' my heat lamp just because needin' heat's a snake thing and she did that to me. I'd be miserable.

[... That...

... isn't something he can just accept at face value, unfortunately.]

But you didn't care about heat lamps before. When you were human.

[The words are barely out of his mouth and he already regrets saying them. He doesn't want to imply anything about Fiddleford. He doesn't mean it. No matter who's telling him to be careful, or how loudly, or...

He wants to hold on to Fiddleford even harder.]

I-I'm sorry. I love you.

It's okay. It's okay, I know you didn't mean -- I know what you meant.

[He leans down and presses a kiss to Marco's temple. It's not difficult at all what with being a snake, and he's glad for that. Anything that makes being affectionate with his boyfriend easier is good. It is. It is good.]

But I mean, think about it. It's not hurtin' anyone. There's parts of bein' a snake I hate. You know there are, and you've seen how hard I work to beat them down. But it's like -- it's like Elias said to me. We have to take what she's done to us and make it ours. Take all the good parts and use them. He's usin' power he stole from her and He's not evil. [He can't be.]

It's -- it's what you do with it. That's what's important.

[It's not hurting anyone.

Marco takes a deep breath and repeats the statement to himself. Not hurting anyone. That's right. His dad... disagrees, he thinks. Maybe his mom, too. It's hard to tell. There's too much noise and he's doing all he can to focus on Fiddleford, but it's hard.]

... Right. Right, right. I need to... to try and remember that.

The line just seems so fine sometimes...

I know. That's why you have me to remind you, right? S'why we have each other. So we don't forget. So we stay on the right side of the line.

[It hits him suddenly and with great clarity that without Marco he doesn't know where he'd be. Marco is the bright spot in his life, the reason he keeps going. No matter how long or difficult a day he has, Marco will be there at the end of it. Marco is a constant in the way that so very few things are in Ryslig.

Is it any wonder that he's so desperately invested in Marco's happiness?]

I love you, darlin'. And I'll remind you as often as you need.

Right.

[He attempts a smile. It's not the best, but it's there.]

I-I love you too. [Marco seeks out one of Fiddleford's hands, then guides it to his face so he can plant a soft kiss - or two or three - on it.] I love you... I can't allow her to change that.

[Any smile is still a smile. Fiddleford will take it and treasure it just the same.]

She won't. That's somethin' she can't take from you.

[The kisses to his hand leave his ears pink. It's not that his hands are a particularly sensitive area for him or anything, but there's something intimate about it all the same. He catches himself wishing that he didn't have inch-long claws so he could put his fingers in Marco's mouth but he pulls that thought up short. Marco's tired. Now's probably not the time.

But maybe now is an okay time to kiss one of Marco's fins? He just likes the way they flutter when he does it, that's all. It's cute.]

God, I hope so...

[He sighs. This time, at least, it feels like a weight is leaving his shoulders.

And right on cue, his fin flutters at the kiss. As a nice bonus, there's a little more conviction to his smile, too. God, Fiddleford is so good.]

[Gosh that's cute. Really, really cute.]

Love the way your fins do that. See? Somethin' like that, that's good.

[He's just gonna go ahead and give it another kiss to punctuate his point. All these monstrous additions may be worrisome in theory, but attached to Marco Evangelisti, they can be good.]

Heh. Not hurting anyone, is it? [He lets out another quiet, but sincere laugh at the second kiss.

He does like his fins. Which is troublesome, the way he sees things, but at the same time - maybe he should try to keep Fiddleford's words in mind. It's cute. It feels good. It's not harmful in the slightest. It's fine.

He turns his head and cranes his neck to softly kiss Fiddleford's lips.]

[Fiddleford obligingly puts a hand behind Marco's head to help mitigate the angle. The more genuine that laughter gets the less he cares about 'well maybe Marco's tired, maybe not now'. This is helping. He should keep going. It's not a fix for the problem, exactly, but it's a nice temporary solution.

He's just going to ignore how having Marco in his coils -- on his coils, really, let's not get ahead of ourselves here -- is quite nice. The kiss is quite nice too, but that's nothing new. He's always liked kissing Marco, ever since the first time he did it.]

Oughta sit up proper, maybe, before you get a kink in your neck.

[That would kinda ruin the mood. It's a surprisingly good mood, he doesn't want it ruined.]

It's not... not quite as uncomfortable as you'd think, believe it or not.

[But he obliges, because yes, okay, there are more comfortable angles for kissing (he remembers that time at the lake regardless. Boy, that was strange. He tries not to think about that time at the lake). He repositions himself, sitting up and shuffling closer to where he figures Fiddleford's lap would be.

... Which, granted, is making his heart go pitter-patter just about as much as that time at the lake did.

He glances at the TV.]

... Could you turn it up a little? Just for background noise.

[Is it selfish of him if he doesn't want anyone or anything to interrupt this? He feels uneasy, but-- God, after the contrast between their conversation and what they're doing now, he just wants a break. Please.]

[Yeah... yeah. Fiddleford feels about the same. A break is what they need. Just some time where they don't have to worry quite so much about everything outside of this apartment. It can wait for at least a little while, right?

He picks up the remote and turns the volume up until it's a pleasant background hum of sound, like people are speaking just a room away.]

How's that? Better?

[His voice is oddly soft, not quite what one could call 'breathless' but maybe twenty percent of the way there. He lived in a dorm once and he knows very well what it means when you turn up your TV or radio for 'background noise'.]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, FIDDLEFORD HADRON MCGUCKET. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 011.23.581.321 * teslacoils has joined 011.23.581.321 >> teslacoils has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN01. <teslacoils> Lab hours are 10 AM to 6 PM Mon-Wed, 7 PM to 3 AM Thur-Fri, special appointments available. <teslacoils> I am no longer associated with the Fourth God. <teslacoils**> But I will answer any questions you might have about him with the honest truth.

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cw: nasty delusions

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we don't even have to move this to the smut comm because it's a private inbox haHA

is that how it works, i genuinely don't know

I MEAN I THINK? it's not in the main comm it should be fine

YOU KNOW ME I WORRY ABOUT THINGS

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