Ryslig IC Contact

[terribibble]

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.

<teslacoils> - main username
<novus> <ordo> <seclorum> <fulcrum> - anonymous usernames
<hadron> <thamnophis> <4eyes> - retired usernames
pixel image by CJ Pythonmelon
voice work by Penny knittinggiantbeanies

Comments

[peccatore]

New... [Marco hesitates, glancing away. He isn't sure HOW new Fiddleford means, nor is he terribly sure about any of this conversation at all, really, but if he has to be completely honest...]

Light noticed it too, a few months ago. The director.

[terribibble]

Months ago?

[He could -- should -- tell Marco he ought to have confided in someone then. It's just that that would make him a big ol' hypocrite and he couldn't stand having it pointed out.]

So it's somethin' serious, no matter what's causin' it. It won't go away on its own.

[peccatore]

[His fingers curl under the palm of his hand. Something feels so terribly wrong about this. He isn't sure in what way; all he knows is that his discomfort is building up so harshly that he almost wants to spring to his feet and run away.]

Well, what am I supposed to--

[No. Wrong angle. Backtrack.]

It's... It's not even that bad. Maybe I'm just tired, these things happen when you're tired.

[terribibble]

[This time it's Fiddleford's turn to move closer and put his hand over Marco's, not content to just talk to him from across the workshop. Words aren't working as well as he might hope so he's going to see if physical comfort might get better results.

He knows 'I'm just tired' is bullshit. Being tired would get you a lost bracket, some typos, nothing like this. He doesn't have the heart to say it.]

Maybe that's all it is. Maybe you're right.

[He offers Marco a weak sort of smile.]

[peccatore]

You don't look like you're convinced.

[But god, seeing that look on Fiddleford's face breaks his heart. He doesn't think this alone will remedy it, but he does his best to offer a faint smile of his own, even though he is definitely not feeling it.

It doesn't take long for him to break eye contact and look at Fiddleford's hand instead.]

[terribibble]

[Well, Marco, don't say he didn't give you an out.]

I'm not, not entirely. I'm just worried is all.

[He reaches out and puts his other arm around Marco's shoulders, pulling him into a cautious hug. The relationship growing between them is still so new for him, but the urge to comfort someone he cares for wins out over uncertainty. Besides, he knows for a fact that Marco likes having him close. This hug won't be unwelcome.]

[peccatore]

[The hug is just as welcome as Fiddleford guessed it would be, but Marco still hesitates to wrap his arms around him. Before long, though, he has an arm around Fiddleford's shoulders too; then, he rests his chin on the other shoulder.]

You would be able to tell if there was anything seriously wrong with me.

[It's not a question.]

[terribibble]

[This is good. Comfortable. He'd be perfectly content to just stay like this for hours if he could.]

I just... Marco, if I showed you my notebook right about now, you'd see the dang thing covered in eyes and it's because I've been drawin' them every chance I get since I saw what was in that portal.

[Did he tell Marco about that? He must have. He was so out of sorts for so long after, though... did it slip his mind? He can't remember... but he remembers rereading his notes and seeing eyes he doesn't remember drawing, the beginnings of that fractal mouth of teeth, like drawing the image for Rohan got it stuck in his hand and now it's drawing it as much as it can in hopes of getting it out.]

This sort of thing comes from somethin' serious. It doesn't mean there's somethin' wrong with you but it sure as hell means somethin's wrong.

[peccatore]

[Marco hesitates to act on his immediate instinct - what if now isn't the right time? They've been going slowly, but they've been going, but now they're talking about this and

What the hell, he goes ahead and plants a quick kiss on Fiddleford's neck. Then he resumes resting his head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath before he speaks.]

So what are we supposed to do about it?

[terribibble]

[The kiss doesn't seem to bother him, which is promising. He takes a sharp breath in but that's it: surprise, not displeasure. The tips of his ears go a little bit red.]

I... I don't know.

[He presses his cheek against Marco's hair.]

Doesn't stop me wantin' to fix it.

[peccatore]

[Marco makes a sound. It's a strange thing, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh and a sob.]

I don't know how you'd do that at all.

[terribibble]

'Least it's not just you. It's me too. You're not alone. You tell me when I'm drawin' eyes on things, I'll tell you when your code gets hinky. If we can't fix it we can... contain it, I reckon's the word.

[That has to be something, right? They can keep tabs on it. They can learn to spot it, to head it off.]

[peccatore]

... Yeah. [He makes an effort to put just a little bit more energy into that word. He wants to believe it.] W-We can manage. Together.

[terribibble]

Mmhm.

[He turns his head and presses a small kiss to Marco's cheek just beneath the arm of his glasses. This is... good. This is okay. They can make this work.]

Feelin' better?

[peccatore]

[He takes a deep breath at the touch of Fiddleford's lips, a smile finding its way into his eyes. Looking at Fiddleford McGucket, and being close to him like this...]

... Yes. I am, actually.