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.

<teslacoils> - main username
<novus> <ordo> <seclorum> <fulcrum> - anonymous usernames
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pixel image by CJ

Pythonmelon
voice work by Penny

knittinggiantbeanies

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Don't

think much of it or anything.

I know for a fact that a few of those people are just trying to mess with you.

But what if they're on to something? What if they're all just noticing something I'm not seeing? Even you thought I was.

[Oh lord.

Oh sweet lord.

Oh sweet merciful lord this just makes things MORE COMPLICATED.]

I don't kno
I don't know! That's not really something I can tell you one way or another it's

You have to

figure it out for yourself!

:)

:8(

[Marco, that's not helping. See this little emoji face? It's the face of a very confused snake who's been having a hell of a couple of months. He killed man in a public pool, he's been growing steadily more hungry and bloodthirsty since, he died! He was murdered! And on top of that he's been doing his best to deal with the niggling doubts and confusion and worry that this thing he's accepted as an integral part of himself his entire life might actually be something as foreign to him as the scales he grew in March.]

I've been trying to. I know for certain I like girls. [His ex-wife and Justine are concrete proof of that.] And folks keep saying you can want both but it's awful hard to wrap my head around the idea. You can't write a function that returns two different answers.

People aren't numbers, Fiddleford.
You can't

You can't shove sexuality into math.

[Is it even right for Marco to help with this? Does he not have an ulterior motive?]

I mean speaking of science you could experiment
With somebody you trust, if you're comfortable

[ah]

I could count the people I trust in this place on one hand.

And the last time I tried to get intimate with one of them she nicked me with some sort of venom and I had about the weirdest trip since college.

[A few seconds later he adds:]

It wasn't on purpose.

[... Okay that's not where he expected this conversation to end up.]

Right.

Well you don't HAVE to get
intimate. With anyone.

Just...

I don't know, think about men and see how that makes you feel.

[Honestly, he'd have just ignored the whole thing if people didn't keep bringing it up and forcing him to acknowldge the possibility. This is one of his problems he can't will away by just saying it's fine until he believes it. The issue is that only leaves his instinctive need to Fix Problems. Marco's right, this isn't something he can do math to, but in his opinion just sitting around ~thinking about boys~ until it solves itself isn't a solution.]

That's what I've already been doing and it hasn't solved anything.

[It's probably a good thing Marco isn't going to read too much into that statement.]

Then
I'm not sure what to tell you.

[Yeah, it probably is, because while Fiddleford didn't exactly intend it like that he can't deny he's been entertaining thoughts of some hypothetical situations. How else is he supposed to figure out if he's into men?]

Well. Thank you for trying.

You can stop by with that phone whenever you fancy.

Oh it

's actually Soeki's phone, so I was hoping you could come over just so I don't have to keep it away from him or anything.

Oh! Sure. I could do that.

Where do you two live?

[There is an address here, as well as one or two identifying landmarks.]

Or I can come pick you up if you want.

Oh no, that ought to be good enough. I'll be there in a bit.

[Sure enough, not too much later there's a knock. He chooses to be pleased with himself for finding the place instead of worried that he's already so good at navigating Bavan. Sure, he intends to stay here if given the choice, but he can still be worried about how quickly he's settling in.]

[As much as Marco has been urging himself to get over his feelings for Fiddleford, the fact is that he runs to the door as soon as he hears a knock, and the smile on his face as he opens it is just short of manic.]

Hello! Come in, come in, come in.

[At least he isn't impeccably groomed or anything. Actually, his hair is a little messier than usual.]

[Wow. Marco is really excited about this smartphone. Luckily so is Fiddleford so he doesn't think much of exactly how wide Marco's smile is or how ruffled he looks.]

Hey, Marco. [He does indeed come in, but considering he's a snake that's a lengthy process. He spares a glance back at his own coils and frowns.] We, ah. We might want to make our way to whatever room's biggest. Even all coiled up I'm dealin' with a lot of tail right now and I'd feel awful sorry if I broke anythin'.

[Though he's pretty sure two bachelors aren't going to have too many priceless antiques lying around. At most maybe he'd knock over a chair or something.]

Oh. Right. [Marco follows Fiddleford's tail with his eyes.] You, uh... just keep growing, don't you?

[He remembers when nagas used to creep him out. Oh, god. Oh, sweet lord, help him.]

We should, erm... The living room. [He turns, points and heads towards it.] That's probably the best place, I'm... I'm sure you'll fit on the couch somehow.

[Fiddleford laughs; it sounds more rueful than anything.]

I am a couch. Haven't gained any more feet since last month though so I'm hopin' this is where things top out.

[He doesn't show it overtly, but inside he's relived. Their earlier conversation strayed into some potentially very awkward territory, and thus-far it looks like it hasn't impacted anything between them at all. Like everything else in his life that has had no easy solution, he resolves to just ignore it for now. There's a smartphone somewhere in this house and that's what he's focused on.

When they make it to the living room he sizes up the couch.]

I could more'n likely fit most of myself on that if I coiled up, but there'll be nowhere for you if I do. Probably oughta take the floor, at least partway.

Oh, just... just make yourself comfortable in whatever way you like! I'll sit... wherever I fit. [He smiles, doing his damned best to hide how nervous he is. Goddammit, he shouldn't be nervous at all. Soeki is right, he is too old for this.

... Hopefully he'll be able to sit somewhere that won't make Fiddleford uncomfortable.

As it happens, the phone is right there in the living room, so while Fiddleford settles in, Marco goes ahead and grabs it.]

[It takes some doing, but he manages to get most of his body on the couch. The end of it drapes off the side and curls in a lazy loop on the floor but you know what, he's still going to consider it a victory.

But, as expected, there's simply no room for Marco to squeeze in beside him -- and he's going to have to if they're both going to be looking at what he's now realizing is a truly minuscule device.]

... Here. [He pats a loop of his tail.]

Sit. I don't mind.

[In fact, the part of his mind under parasite influence is delighted at the excuse for physical contact.]

[Marco opens his mouth.

Then he stares at Fiddleford for several seconds, processing what he just said.

Is... Isn't this intimate? Isn't this kind of like sitting on someone's lap, or - oh, lord, he hopes it's not like sitting on someone's butt, that's not the kind of thing he wants to be thinking about right now--

Oh good sweet lord the longer he's quiet the higher the chances of Fiddleford noticing he's making a big deal out of this.]

... Sure! Okay.

[He sits. Then he stares very, very intently at the phone in his hands.] So! Here you have it. It's all touch-operated, save for a couple of buttons-- oh, hold on. [Aaand he unlocks the phone.]

[Really it's more like sitting on someone's chest. Sure, his human torso might look outwardly normal, but there's nothing in there except esophagus and bones. Everything important is housed in the snaky coils Marco's sitting on. If he pays real close attention he might even feel them expand and contract along with Fiddleford's bigger functional lung -- the one that is now as long as he used to be tall.

Snakes are weird. He doesn't seem to think much of it anyway; if he did he wouldn't have offered, or at least that's what he tells himself. His eyes are only for that phone, and they light up when Marco unlocks it. It's like magic, almost, though he's smart enough to instinctively parse what he's seeing. Just because he's never encountered anything like this doesn't mean someone of his intellect can't intuit it when it's right in front of them. He reaches out (careful with his claws) and swipes the pad of one finger across the screen the way he saw Marco do. One set of icons is exchanged for another.]

Wow. This is -- Marco, this is incredible! Touch-operated? How can it tell? No, no, let me -- it's somethin' to do with electric charge, isn't it? Skin conducts electricity, it senses the input and somehow calculates where on the screen that input is happenin' via where the change in charge occurred? So if I --

[He takes off his glasses and the taps the screen gently with the end of one of the earpieces. Nothing happens.]

Ah!

[Hahahaha oh god why is Fiddleford's tail moving. Is this breathing? Is he actually sitting on Fiddleford's lungs?? Oh lord, is there even anything left in his torso???

Marco is immensely grateful when Fiddleford starts talking, because it means he gets not to think about it for a little while. And he doesn't even have to try particularly hard to focus on his words, because every single one of them is music to his ears. His smile grows exponentially as Fiddleford just deduces, in five seconds, how touchscreens work.

Of course it wouldn't be difficult for someone like him.]

That's... That's right! You got it. Not that complicated, I suppose...

Well no, of course not. None of the best inventions are. The best kind of engineerin' is simple and efficient, even if what it's doin' is revolutionary. Y'know all the telegraph was was a simple circuit? It was practically just a step up from the potato battery and it still laid the groundwork for long-distance technological communication.

[He presses an icon at random, just to see what will happen. What the fuck did he just open? He doesn't care. He's having the time of his life.]

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AAAND ACTION ?

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