terribibble | Ryslig IC Contact

[He's about to face the Fog God and walk backwards into hell, which in this case is Ebony Threads. Same thing.]

you could say that
i'll be there.

[He's never been in Rohan's shop before but he knows very well where it is. He shows up a little while later with a bottle of tequila in one hand, his clothes disheveled and his tie half-undone. He looks like shit. It's fine. The glowing blue lights in his eyes and along his arms and spine and sputtering with barely-suppressed anger.]

[ For once, he isn't luring Fourthies into his shop to kill them. What a concept. He sets his computer aside and shuffles about to make up an intentionally dramatic scene at his front desk featuring a gray to black gradient tablecloth and a cute little lamp glowing with a blue flame he sparked up from his fingers.

Rohan looks VERY different than what Fiddleford is used to. A shame that they aren't kindred monster spirits at the moment. His elbows set up on the counter, he rests his chin atop his hands. ]

Oh my. You look like Hell.

Tequila causes pregnancy, you know. [ His demon tail sporting the little spade at its tip flicks playfully at his own """joke""". ]

[You know, he tends to double-take when he sees folks as different monsters than he's used to. He doesn't this time and it's hard to tell if it's because he's in that bad of a state or because seeing Rohan as a demon follows so logically that it doesn't surprise him. Neither does the overly-dramatic setup. He honestly would have been surprised at anything less.]

Well considerin' I'm unattached at the moment I'd say I don't have to worry about that.

[He takes a drink right out the bottle to punctuate his point. He almost wouldn't care if Rohan did lure him here to kill him. He could go for a fight right now. He won't instigate one but if things go that way... well. That'd be fine.]

[ Nice to see that dramatic demon is the line of best fit here. ]

True. [ He's not sure if he should mention that he was going to curb stomp Marco the other day but

that sounds like fiddleford really wouldn't care. ]

So... Tell me what's going on. I know Marco's more unhinged than usual... [ Glancing at his nails. ] I think-- coming from me --that's something.

I didn't realize it was this bad.

[He runs the hand that's not holding the bottle back through his hair. His tail curls beneath him so he can sit on it like a makeshift couch.]

I should've. If I'd've caught on maybe I could've-- [He hisses softly in frustration.] Doesn't matter. It's done now. Y'know that storm? How folks were showin' up in lightnin' and all? He built... some sort've machine. On the Fourth's orders, I'd assume. I don't know. He didn't tell me about it until it was already done.

[ He cocks an eyebrow. THAT'S something. ]

He built a machine on the Fourth's orders without telling you?

I feel like that's something priests should go over first. So that is what brought all of the new people this time...?

If I had to hazard a guess. If it ain't what brought them then it sure is what's makin' it go all screwy.

[Ain't. He's in the kind of place where he cares a lot less about policing his grammar, even in front of someone like Rohan that he knows will drag him for it. It doesn't matter right now.]

He didn't know it'd do any of this either and that would've been fine after a fashion but -- but -- [Another swig of Tequila.] But this is crossin' too many lines. And he won't own up to that.

[There's something more personal to it but he isn't yet quite sure if he wants to tell Rohan about that, even though Rohan is one of the people on the peninsula who already knows about his particular memory issues. Of course he does, he's one of the main things that kickstarted the whole recovery process.]

[ His lips curl because he cannot help himself when it comes to Fiddleford's accent. It's his favorite thing to poke fun at, but... Right now... ]

Mer-Icarus swam too close to the thermal vent. [ Bad reference. ] I wish I knew what to tell you, and I don't want it to sound like I'm helping you or anything, but if he is going behind your back to do these things...

[ He gestures in the air, blue embers flitting from his fingertips. ]

You have someone to confide in. In me. I think that what he has done is a grave sin. To you that's... Well, that's betrayal~

You know -- you know what they're doin'? To people's heads?

[its clear from his tone this isn't a subject he's fully comfortable talking about, but it's at the root of what's hurt him so bad.]

Edited (IPOD) 2017-08-07 05:55 (UTC)

[ He gives the naga an incredulous look as he sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. ]

What are they doing...?

They, ah. They...

[Okay. Okay. More tequila. He doesn't trust Rohan but he doesn't really trust anyone in Ryslig. He thought he could trust Marco and now he isn't even sure of that anymore. Rohan offered to listen and even if he has an ulterior motive... Fiddleford needs this.]

They're takin' memories. Blankin' things out. I didn't realize until... until I couldn't tell how much I'd lost already.

[And it's slowly destroying him, not being able to know for certain. He's kept a log of his time in Ryslig, sure, but what about things from before then?]

[ okay bud, you need to share. Rohan holds out his hand. Hmph. ]

It's not like I have experience with memories or anything. [ Said merely in passing. ]

Has he been taking them from you do you think? See, I get foggy on some details from home... Nothing that I feel is dire. If I've lost any myself... I don't think I would know.

[ That could cause an Existential Crisis. ]

Do you think that is what has happened to you?

I don't think he -- he didn't. Not personally. [He couldn't possibly believe Marco would stoop that low, even if he's feeling very uncharitable right now.] But I know. I know somethin's gone because --

[He reaches up convulsively to touch the gnarly ring of scarring around his throat. He remembers when he didn't have it. He remembers when he did, but in the middle, between those two points--]

I don't know. How I got this. It's just gone. I can guess at the time it happened but not what did it, and if I've lost that who knows what else is gone? It's gone -- it's all gone blue.

[Blue like the light Rohan forced him to remember that first time, blue like the ray, like forgetting.]

[ Rohan stays quiet for a hot few seconds. He appears to be mulling over what has been said and implied.

It's an uncomfortable thing to consider. And maybe he feels a twinge of sympathy. Not that he'd say it. ]

Feel free to not believe me on this, Fiddleford. You have no reason to after all I have done and pinned upon you in the last year and a half...

Memories are deeply personal to me. The memories of any person-- whether I like them or not.

... If I could, I could look at it and maybe see what is missing.

You -- that's -- mm.

[Rohan got his name right. Rohan got his name right. It seems a silly thing to get stuck on, but...]

That's... kind of you to offer. Honest it is. Y'know even if you're playin' me for a fool with all this it's helpin' to talk about it.

Just... don't know if I'd want you in my head. It's not you even, it's anyone, I wouldn't want -- y'know. All that's private. And messy.

[Did any of that even make sense? He isn't sure. It felt like it did in the moment but it also could have just been gibberish. He's feeling kind of jittery, and on top of that when he's tipsy his brain tends to go even faster than normal and far outpace his mouth.]

I've lived with a brain like a ripped-up quilt before, I can... I can manage it. Probably.

[ Snatching the bottle and placing it to his lips. ]

That doesn't make it right. Coping is...

Temporary. No matter how you rely on it...

Some wounds don't heal. I've been fortunate.

[Don't you dare make him and his very sensitive snake tongue indirectly kiss your gross Fog mouth, Rohan Kishibe. God dammit.]

It... the thing is --

I'm scared to remember what I might get back. Whatever gave me this scar. Anythin' else I lost. Remember when you brought back that -- that thing you had me draw for you? I'm still drawin' eyes whenever I let my guard down enough not to notice.

It's-- it's just a complicated issue. Is all. For me.

[He can't quite come out and say it was an addiction, not yet. Mainly it's because he's ashamed of how easily he's considering backsliding now that the option is open to him. He knows he shouldn't, knows it's better for his mind to be whole, but there's still that weak, cowardly part of him that wants to be blissfully unaware.

He hates that part of him more than he hates his snake brain.]

[ The tequila bottle finds itself on the table. Man, Fiddleford needs it more than he does. ]

I can't begin to understand what it all is or what it means. small>[ beat. ] I have that picture still. It's ancient but I have it.

Feel free to say no: What would you say if I [ airquotes ] "picked your brain" for a few minutes?

Not quite with my powers She gave me. More of a meditation... Kind of what I do at home. [ not really at all bc there's no face-opening or paralysis or just general horribleness. ]

... Can you promise me She won't get into my head, if you do?

[ Rohan taps his claws on the table cloth. Dull thump after dull thump. ]

I can. I won't let it get to that.

[ he's still gonna get high on your anxiety tho. ]

I think at this point we should be on the same page about this.

[What doesn't get high on his anxiety? But Rohan has a point. If Fiddleford was going to die here it would have happened by now.]

Alright... alright. If you think-- if you're sure.

[His coils shift nervously and his hands grip and worry at the hem of his shirt (which, for once, is fairly restrained). He could be making a very big mistake but... but at this point, what would it matter? When he's angry and hurt he tends to make extreme, snap judgments. This is one of those.]

[ Rohan makes no move to reach out or touch the naga. He flicks his hand to signal something. Then he shuts his eyes. It's a signal to follow along. ]

Close your eyes. None of that crazy stuff right now.

[ He opens them after a moment to check if Fiddleford has followed along. If he has, he will rise to his feet and let his hooves click deftly on the carpet beneath them as he rounds the desk. ]

Imagine a hallway. A long hallway... [ He coos in his buttery purr. ] Walk with me down it. At the end, there is a dip in the ground... A flight of stairs.

Do you see it?

Go down them... There is a light down there. Tell me when you see it. Breathe. Meditate. Focus...

M'not crazy. [It's a low, petulant mumble. He's still going to close his eyes and play along.

Meditation didn't work for him when Ford tried to get him to do it but he has a gut feeling that had more to do with Ford than it did the thing itself. That doesn't stop him thinking this is all a little... well... a little crystals and feathers and auras for his taste, but living in Ryslig for as long as he has means that he can no longer use that as an excuse to discount something. He bought gills from a witch with magical coins not a couple of months ago. This is benign by comparison.]

... I see it.

[More accurately, he is imagining it. He supposes it's some kind of metaphor. He breathes in, breathes out. His tail rises and falls with it. At least Rohan has a nice voice.]

[ Look, as an artist he has to find ways to get into The Zone.

From how he is instructing, it doesn't sound like he's making it up on the spot. Like he's trained the description into himself. ]

That light will lead to a door. It is muffled behind it. You have to open it.

Open the door.

[ Click-click. ]

Behind it is a book... Open that. Flip the pages. Really look into that encyclopedia of your memories.

[ His hands ghost their way along one shoulder to the other as he passes behind Fiddleford. Their tips spark up again with benign but hot lick of blue flame. ]

Inhale.

When you exhale, tell me the very first thing that pops into your head. Or that passes through.

[ His steps pause, facing the wall still and not looking anywhere near his "subject". ]

Go.

[The light touch to his shoulders almost takes him out of things. His shoulders twitch and his blue fluorescent glow flickers fitfully, but the lick of heat calms him down. Real heat always makes him feel like basking, and that's sort of the mental place he thinks Rohan wants him to get into anyway. Relaxed. He can never really relax anymore but he can manage to make himself comparatively less tense.

Alright. Door. Book. Pages. He breathes in deep, exhales through his nose, and says:]

My wife. My -- my ex-wife.

[Relationships and specifically relationship troubles are on his mind right now for some reason. Can't imagine what that might be.]

Edited 2017-08-07 09:53 (UTC)

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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action time baby

mm bb

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addiction stuff from this point on i guess?

thumbs up emoji

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