terribibble | Ryslig IC Contact

Ryslig IC Contact

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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[Conceptually, it's not like Marco has a problem with the idea. He never thought of marriage, but that's because, for a good chunk of his life, it wasn't allowed. Only recently did things change, and Marco remembers that day - that glimpse of hope for the future. Amongst everything that's happened in Ryslig, it feels so distant now.

No, his main issue at the moment is that it feels like... Well, it's much too fast.]

I don't know. I don't... [Marco laughs. It's a brief, nervous sound that seems inappropriate to his ears.]

... He was so little, Fiddleford.

[Too fast is exactly right. They haven't even known each other a full year, and he'd like to think that's the minimum for considering marriage a possibility. He and his wife knew each other for at least that long and they probably would have waited longer if Tate hadn't decided to happen a lot sooner than either of them were planning on. At least he can't get Marco pregnant, but he really doesn't want to follow that whole train of thought right now.

He doesn't laugh when Marco does, but he does offer an awkward smile. It disappears again at the next words out of Marco's mouth.]

I know. I wasn't expectin'... I didn't think He'd be so young. Y'know, small wonder He thought we oughta be married if He's comin' at it like a child would.

God, that's it, isn't it? That's exactly why...

[His eyes fall on the rings and their glow. It's not that he doesn't like this; it's not that he isn't grateful the Fourth God thinks so highly of them - far from it. And looking at it that way, well... it's kind of cute. Almost. Not quite. Maybe if the circumstances were different.

Marco can't help but feel like there is something terribly tragic about Elias Liewen.]

When I first heard about... how He became a god, well, I wondered. I knew He couldn't possibly mean any harm. He was just a kid with a... a very, very bad father, so... why wouldn't He want to help us? And why shouldn't I help Him?

But actually knowing he's a child...

[Marco makes another sound that resembles a laugh, but this time, it's drier, more bitter.]

And people have the nerve to say He's just as bad as her.

Y'know I think the thing is, the people who defend Her defend Her even when She brings children here. The ones who're real far gone aren't goin' to care how old He is.

[He might have been a little more forgiving once. No longer. Things have gone too far and got too serious for him to give his enemies too much benefit of the doubt. He still feels sorry for the more than he actively hates them but the fact remains that there is a divide between him and the people who follow the Fog God that's far too wide to bridge. He can keep an uneasy truce in public for the sake of appearances (and because there will still always be that part of him that tries to see the best in people, even if he has to look so very very hard to find it). Hell, in some cases he agrees with them, like when Mike posted about rebuilding a new monument. He can understand that need to remember and to come together as a community. He can't understand the need to taint it with the Fog God's influence and he hopes Mike actually keeps his word about avoiding that.]

The important thing is we know, and we can protect him like he's protectin' us. We made the right choice.

[His hand squeezes Marco's tight.]

We did.

Edited 2016-11-15 07:41 (UTC)

[After all the backlash they got, it's especially comforting to remember that there is someone in Ryslig who understands him so thoroughly - someone who's with him.

Marco has thought about it; he's sure that they would still be together even in a world without these gods, in any hypothetical scenario where they might have met and bonded. But having this kind of support and reassurance... It's such a relief. It's just so nice to know someone else gets it.]

We did the right thing. [He nods, closing his eyes.] And we have to keep doing it, no matter what. No matter what she throws at us, no matter what her lackeys try to do, no matter who else she manages to ruin...

Mmhm. I really believe that, y'know. It's better to do somethin' than nothin' at all. Even if it doesn't work out right, like this didn't work out quite how we wanted. That just... it just means you have the tools to do a better job the next go-round. It's like writin' a code. You're goin' to have to sweep for bugs a few times. That's normal.

[Ghosts, bugs, same deal. He probably shouldn't dwell on this train of thought for too long, though, because it's a very good argument for Memory Gun: Mark Two, and he can't let himself give in to that temptation even if post-death is when it's strongest. God, he'd give anything to forget what dying feels like, but he can't. The process of sweeping for bugs with that device is simply too costly.]

There's a difference, that's the thing. [Not that he means to disagree; the thought simply jumps to mind and he feels the need to get it out.] Bugs with consequences happen, post-release. Things go undiscovered. But that's if you try to discover them in the first place, which-- we did. I know we did. At the physical level, though, not the metaphorical. We couldn't simulate the destruction of a virtual obelisk. So it's still not our fault, but it's different. When bugs cause suffering-- When bugs get you killed...

[He pauses, then shakes his head after a few moments of silence. He's... kind of lost track of the metaphor now.]

[Come on, Marco, let him be optimistic here. It's been awful hard to maintain that tireless dedication to finding a silver lining here in Ryslig, but somehow he has.]

It wasn't the bugs that got me killed, it was one person takin' things too far. That's... that's on him, not us.

[Still, he should have been able to fight back. He should have been able to survive. Even with all the incredible power the Fourth has given him he couldn't fight off one angry minotaur. That's distressing, but he can address it later.]

Coulda done without Tate followin' me around for two weeks but...

[He trails off. He doesn't really have a 'but'. He's already haunted by his son enough without being literally haunted by his son.

At least it wasn't his ex-wife. That's something.]

[Before he can really stop himself, Marco asks, quiet and rushed:] He didn't talk to you, did he?

[Marco already knows the answer to that, but he needs to ask. It doesn't mean anything. It will make sense if he just keeps thinking about it. He knows it will.]

Not one word. At first I thought that was just Tate bein' Tate, he was always quiet, but --

[Then it catches up to him why Marco must have asked and he cuts himself off.]

Did -- did yours?

[Well.

That's not a question he can dodge now, is it?]

It's complicated.

[That's not a dodge. It's the truth.]

I thought he was the one speaking, at first. Occam's razor. But that didn't make sense - nobody else's ghosts spoke, and he's already been here for a while anyway. So I supposed he was just speaking through him. I don't like the sound of that either, since the ghosts were hers, they weren't real, but I haven't been able to find a better explanation yet. It doesn't have to mean that he's... with her. Maybe it was just easier for him to speak that way, some sort of spiritual connection, I don't know...

[He might be sharing too much, but... It's Fiddleford. He'll understand.]

[It's sharing too much, but not because Fiddleford doesn't want to hear it. It's more that it's too much too fast without any explanation along the way, and it takes him a few moments to piece together thing things Marco isn't saying.

Oh dear.]

You've been hearin' his voice even before this, you mean?

[He doesn't respond right away. Maybe it's just the way Fiddleford phrased the question, but now Marco finds himself having second thoughts. He's going to call him crazy, isn't he? That's what people who hear voices are. But he doesn't just hear voices; he hears someone he knows, and he hears... someone. He hasn't quite figured out who it is yet. Maybe the Fog God. But it's someone, it's not "a voice", it's real.

... He has to try to remember that Fiddleford understands. He has to try very, very hard.]

I've been hearing... him for a few months.

[Look. He's from a time where this isn't all that well understood to begin with and on top of that he's a man who's very sensitive to anything out of the ordinary, even if he tries to be polite and understanding because that's just being a good person. The fact remains that he's not well-equipped for this and stumbling his way through it blindly is about all he's got.

The way Marco says that, though... that sets off alarm bells.]

Who, exactly? How often?

[Marco looks at Fiddleford for a good few seconds, caught off guard by the question. He thought it would have been obvious by now.]

My father. Just about every day.

[Look, he just wanted to be very, very sure. It doesn't pay to assume in this sort of situation, even if it's easier.]

Marco, that...

[Okay. He has to phrase this very carefully.]

I'm not goin' to say I'm not... concerned. About that. Do you think you're bein' haunted?

[The only reason Marco can talk about this at all is because it's Fiddleford - and even then, it's hard. He feels too exposed, too open.]

Haunted... Yes. Haunted by one, hunted by the other. Not quite hunted, maybe, but chased, tormented...

... I haven't been able to figure out who he other one is, [Marco adds in fearful whisper.]

[Hahaha oh yikes]

There's an awful lot of different sorts of spirits.

[He remembers. He remembers, because Ford told him, and it was one of the few things he could accept (however grudgingly). A superstitious man is no stranger to the idea of spirits, even if he likes to think superstition is all they are.]

What does he -- what do they say?

[He doesn't KNOW if that other one is a spirit. His best guess so far is that the Fog God is responsible for it somehow, if it isn't straight up just her.]

... Remember when I was calling myself the Envoy?

[That it might be Her was Fiddleford's first thought as well, but he didn't voice it. It's too terrible to contemplate.]

Yes. Yes, I do.

That was his idea. I-I mean... I thought that was the Fourth God. At first. It felt... right. I was his messenger, his agent... I did as he said...

... But then I realised it wasn't the Fourth God at all. The Fourth - Elias, He... He doesn't act like a god. Do you know what I mean? So, whoever that was-- whoever that is... must be trying to deceive me.

[His eyes narrow.] Probably someone on her side.

[He nods. He does know what Marco means. Elias has never acted like any god he ever knew of, which is probably why it's been so easy to reconcile his dedication to the Fourth with his casual cultural Christianity.]

You don't think -- it can't be Her. He ought to be able to keep Her out of your brain, right?

... I don't know. I-I mean, He should. He should be able to. But then, who is it? I...

[This time, he makes direct eye contact with Fiddleford. The way he looks at him, he almost looks like he's pleading.]

I can't figure it out.

Have you tried asking them... it?

[Would that even work? But then again, what other course of action really is there?]

I have.

[He gazes back down at his fidgeting hands.] Even when... it acknowledges the question, it's just the same old lies over and over again. "I am your god." "You are special." "Do it for me."

... "Why doubt me," he says. It.

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