z
  • Home

Young Writers Society


Island Magic



User avatar
176 Reviews
Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 4030
Reviews: 176
Sat Jan 06, 2024 10:08 pm
View Likes
soundofmind says...



James woke up with a start. Heart and head pounding. Tense. Senses on high alert. He could smell Shane and Eve before he saw them on the cold, dirt floor of a small circle opening in the hedge's path, lined with colorful mushrooms. Shane and Eve both looked unconscious, with their bodies limp on the ground, covered in dirt, faces against the earth.

There was a disgusting, pungent smell filling the air, along with flecks of bright yellow spores floating around them. James wanted to guess that it was mold, but from the way the spores were glowing and pulsing, it was more likely magical in nature. James wanted to assume they were harmless, but the sickly yellow light they cast on the otherwise dark room they found themselves in was suspect at the very least.

Some of them drifted towards his nose with his breath. It was putrid, like spoiled eggs. Sulfuric.

He wafted them away with his hand, accidentally "popping" one of them, which he regretted immediately, because it smelled like someone let out the worst possible eggy fart he'd ever smelled. Puffs of yellow pollen-like powder expoloded over his hand, and he sneezed as it caught in his nose.

Shaking away the distraction, he quickly took stock of his surroundings.

Eve to his left, Shane to his right. They were only a few feet from each other. They both looked to be breathing. Eve still had some of the shrimp splattered over the ground by her dress - now dampened from them - and the dolls they found in their first obstacle were clutched tightly in her hands. The platter was on the ground, by her feet, face-down.

Crawling over to Shane first, he could see that Shane looked relatively unharmed. Aside from being caked in dirt like the rest of them, he had a pulse, was breathing, and appeared to just be sleeping. Maybe drugged. Or they were under a spell.

He went over to Eve next, checking the same vitals, seeing no difference in her state in comparison aside from the fact that she seemed... more comfortably laid out on the ground as opposed to the rest of them. Shane was sleeping on his arm, which was bound to be numb when he came to.

If he came to. James hoped they both came to.

After being woken up by Cyrin, he could only hope that Cyrin had luck with the other two, and they were pulled out of whatever sleep they'd been lulled into.

Only a few seconds after he thought this, he heard Shane begin to stir. The Heir let out a wheezy breath, the dirt covering his nostrils dislodging as he did, and he spluttered for a moment. More dirt flew off, especially from his hair, as he sat up, rubbing his eyes clean before looking around in a daze.

"Hey," James said, to let Shane know that he was there, and also alright.

The last thing Shane saw was James getting swallowed underground, which was more than alarming.

"You ok?" he asked. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Shane's gaze refocused on James as he kept wiping his face clean, blinking as he readjusted to his surroundings.

"Was Cyrin in your head too?" he asked instead.

"Yes," James answered. "He's the reason I'm up. You too?"

Shane nodded, his head turning to Eve.

"Hopefully they're helping her out too," he said quietly.

James turned to look at Eve, his brows creased with concern. Considering it hadn't taken Shane more than thirty seconds to wake up after him, it hopefully wouldn't take too long for Eve to do the same. Time was different in dreams, so James expected it to go quickly. He took another moment to get his bearings, reaching down for the blanket that was twisted around his lower leg. He'd dropped it in the fleeing, but was glad he still had it. He lifted it up and started shaking off the dirt, watching Eve out of the corner of his eyes.

"Looks like the skeleton attack was just a way to get us unconscious," James noted aloud. "In probably the most horrifying way possible. I wonder if they set it up so that Cyrin had to use the dreamwalking. Seems they want us all to use our new magic in some way. Or... it seems encouraged, anyway."

"Well, of course it is," the voice chimed in unhelpfully. "What's the point of having such a tremendous gift if you don't even use it?"

"Not that I think it's a good idea," James muttered, rolling the blanket up in his arms. He glanced over at Shane. "Any idea what you have yet? Or still nothing?"

Shane shook his head, holding out his hands and looking at them. "No," he said, then added a little more quietly, "But if they want me to know, I'm sure they have a plan for me to find out."

James sighed at that. He hated that it was true, and that it likely was going to be the worst possible way of exposing what kind of magic Shane had. Since the trend seemed to be that things were only getting worse and worse with each obstable they ran into. At least this...respite, was merely a stinky mushroom circle and waking up from a dream.

Well. They were supposed to be waking up from their dreams.

It'd been over a minute, now, and Eve still hadn't budged an inch.

James was getting more concerned. He crawled over to her, tucking the blanket under his arm as he stopped to sit beside her, looking down with a frown. This was just a sleeping state, right? It wasn't something more?

"It didn't take too long for Cyrin to wake you... right?" James asked. "I woke up first. On my end, you woke up maybe thirty seconds after me."

"We talked for a few minutes," Shane said. "But time in dreams isn't linear..." That addition sounded hopeful.

Hm. So the time didn't translate both ways, just as James thought.

"Well... I guess we'll wait a little longer, then," James said quietly.

And in the meanttime, he busied himself with grabbing the platter at Eve's feet, and he started picking up the dirt-covered shrimp, putting them back on it.

He was self aware of how silly it looked, but it at least gave him something to do. He couldn't help, though, that with every touch of the raw seafood he caught another whiff of it, and the painful, gnawing hunger in his stomach seemed to surge with aching. He wondered if Shane could hear his stomach growl.

It seemed like he could, from the way Shane's gaze flicked back to James, a little tensely. James hoped that Shane knew he was above eating dirty, raw shrimp.

"I'm alright right now," James said quietly. "I promise, I'll warn you if it gets to be too much."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," the voice tutted.

To which James thought back firmly: I don't.

"Liar."

But Jampes spitefully ignored that.

"Got it," Shane said quietly.

After another pause, James sighed.

"I'm... sorry," he said after a beat. "I feel like things would be different. If..."

But he didn't feel like finishing that sentence. Not when he knew it could be recorded. Not when he knew that not only was the world listening, but so were the Trieus, and so was the voice in his head, now.

Shane shook his head. "You don't need to be sorry. Nothing's in our control right now."

James pressed his lips into a frown, wishing that wasn't true. He wished something could be in his control.

"Are you..." no, that was such a stupid question to ask. None of them were 'okay' right now. "...Hanging in there?"

Shane slowly took off his flannel layer, shaking the loose dirt off before brushing it off and putting it on again.

"I will live," he said half-heartedly.

Ah. So they were there, weren't they? Not too many blessings to count at the moment when everything quite honestly sucked. James still hadn't even begun to process what happened in the graveyard, nevermind what was happening now. Or what had been happening for the last week.

James set the shrimp-filled platter next to Eve, and tucked up his legs as he sat beside her.

It'd been almost four minutes now. How much longer were they going to have to wait? He was starting to worry.

"Maybe Cyrin couldn't..." Shane started.

James pressed his lips into a frown. If Eve didn't wake up soon, they were going to get stuck here, and he couldn't help but wonder if getting out of the maze would still be up to them even if the timer was up. He'd stopped underestimating how cruel or even inconveniencing the DMV could make things for them. Even with this ridiculous quest to find a golden pumpkin, it felt like it was less about gaining a prize and more about creating drama. James wished he could say it was all for television and entertainment value, but there was far more that happened behind the scenes than that.

Anger began to boil in his stomach, intermingling with the hunger already there.

"Maybe," James said after too long of a hesitation. "I don't know why he wouldn't be able to wake her up as well, but if she doesn't wake up in another five minutes, I think we should move on. I can carry her from here until she comes to. I can't imagine these unpleasant spores are helping. Not that I know what other purpose they serve other than to be disgusting."

Shane folded his knees up to his chest.

"Either something happened to Cyrin," he said, "or she isn't... willing to wake up."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," James said softly. "I hope there's another alternative to those two options. Maybe Cyrin just wasn't able to... enter? Her dream, I mean. I don't know how that works."

"Could be they're not adjusted to Connie's powers yet," Shane agreed quietly, but he sounded worried.

"Could be," James agreed. But he couldn't help but wonder if maybe the DMV meant to keep Eve asleep.

Ever since she stormed off that one day, she'd seemed a little... different. Less worried than she used to be.

Did she pick a fight with someone she shouldn't have? Was this a consequence?

He wasn't inclined to be hopeful in this situation. So far, he'd been under the impression that Eve was "immune" to any harassment from the DMV because of her former relationship to Oliver, but if she was getting put through the same things he was in the maze, maybe that didn't matter anymore. Or maybe Oliver's influence was waning. He wasn't, after all, the director. That was Maeve, who from his understanding, was less restrained than Oliver, and had more of a taste for drama than anything meaningful. He supposed that had to have been what earned her the position she was in now, having influence over the one DMV challenge that was being broadcast worldwide, with its purported "twist" of being less "intense." Which was a lie, by the way, not that anyone cared.

Sure, it was non-traditional in its roundabout way of "testing" them all, but it was no less intentional or malicious.

He guessed it was naive to think that Eve would be excluded from that forever. Maybe he'd only been hoping so because he'd wished there was someone he could keep close without consequence to his or their well-being.

"Consider this," the voice spoke up once more, tone diplomatic.

James tensed.

"The sudden absence of your friend's immunity isn't a consequence of your actions," he said, "but rather hers."

It wasn't that the disembodied voice didn't have a point, but rather that it'd been listening in the whole time that made James prickle. It sunk in that moment that none of his thoughts had been private, had they? Did this person have a front row seat to everything going on in his head? Was there nothing barring him from listening?

"It has been quite a spectacular view," they confirmed with a touch of unabashed glee. "Unwilling participant that you are, I must thank you."

Anger bubbled in James's gut, burning hotter.

You don't happen to have a name, do you? James cut in fiercely.

"So, you figured out whose magic you've been blessed with, yes?" the voice asked instead.

Of course he didn't know how to answer a question without asking a question. James was already growing tired of this. The man could hear his thoughts, couldn't he? He already knew the answer.

"Every single one," he chirped in confirmation.

Invasive. Wonderful. No privacy even in his goddamned mind. James was done speaking with the disembodied voice.

"If it's any consolation," the voice went on sweetly, "I've found you're quite the master compartmentalizer. A lot of your subconscious is like a locked box, sitting at the very bottom of some ocean."

James turned to Shane beside him.

"Which begs the question: What are you trying to hide?" the voice sing-songed.

But James ignored it, and instead put together the only thing he could find comfort in, in that moment: if he didn't think about something, the person in his mind wouldn't know it. He said James's thoughts were 'locked away,' sure. But all that really meant was that James wasn't bringing them to the forefront for the man's viewership, which was something James now intended to keep doing for the remainder of this uncontrollable occupancy.

Don't you have something better to do? Someone else to annoy? James asked.

The foreign presence hummed. "None quite as delightful as you."

James let out a quiet, yet audible groan at that, rubbing his hands over his face.

No wonder Aaron was a recluse. This was miserable. James felt like he was beginning to understand the man more by getting stuck in his shoes.

How many people are your hosts, anyway? James asked. Do you monitor them all like this?

The voice chuckled. "Must I repeatedly reiterate how utterly fascinating I find your level of intellect? Not that I mind going heavy on the flattery."

Okay, well. He wasn't going to get anywhere with asking questions, then. Fine. Then this man inside his head was useless. Obnoxious, and clearly suffering from a case of over-inflated ego.

Shut up, he groaned internally.

"James," Shane said loudly.

James's head snapped up. He hadn't realized how hunched over he'd become beside Eve's body, but the moment he became self-aware he could only imagine how things looked from the outside.

"Ah. Sorry," he said quickly.

"It's fine," Shane said quietly. "I was just... wondering if we have a plan for what to do if Eve doesn't wake."

James sat up straighter, sighing as he looked down at Eve with a frown.

"Well, we can't leave her," he said. "And we can't stay here. I can carry her from here on out. Maybe there's something ahead that will help us wake her up. Could be part of the challenge."

Shane nodded. "We can take breaks when you need it, too."

James wanted to mention how utterly little Eve weighed in comparison to what he could handle, but he didn't feel it worth saying aloud.

"Sure," James said. "I'm really hoping it doesn't take us another four hours to find our way out of here, but I'm guessing they didn't plan it for us to just get out since we're 'hunting for a golden pumpkin.'"

He took the blanket out from under his arm, unfolding it and dusting it a bit more.

"Probably not," Shane said, with a bit of a sigh. "I hope someone else finds it fast."

James let out a weak laugh.

"Same," he said, throwing the blanket over Eve. It seemed she still had a death grip on the dolls, so he wasn't going to pry those away from her.

"Do you uh," James said, looking over at the platter. "Do you want to take that with us? Do you think it could still be useful? I don't know about our odds of running into the person with your magic, but, if we do, it could at least tell us what happened to Shrimp."

Shane was quiet for a few moments, in thought.

"You said he was with Alan, right?" he asked.

James paused, taking in another deep whiff. He let his senses search, parsing out the smells from one another through the maze.

Yes. Shrimp was still with Alan. Cyrin and Lyall too, it smelled like, now that James could hone in on it.

"Yes," James answered. "I think he's with Alan's group. Cyrin and Lyall too."

Shane nodded. "I trust them all," he said. "We don't need this, or my powers."

The voice scoffed lightly. "We all know he really just means Alan."

Okay.

That was enough. James was over this peanut gallery commentary. Not only was it completely unnecessary but also unwarranted.

James threw his hands up in the air.

"That's it," he said. "I've had it."

"Come again?" the voice hummed, confused.

James looked to Shane, putting on a tense smile.

"You know what this stupid power comes with?" James asked. "Apparently, when the parasitic person who makes wendigos infects someone, their victim also gets the misfortune of having their host live in their head. This whole time I've been hearing this pompous, narcissistic man's voice in my head, commenting on everything we're doing. It's driving me insane."

There was dead silence in the space where the voice took up residence.

"Yeah, of course that'd get him to shut up," James muttered, reaching down, tucking his arms under Eve's back and legs.

Shane held up a hand as if to stop him there, staring at him.

"A person?" he demanded, eyes wide. "In your head?"

"Yes," James answered. "Got a whole personality and everything."

A pause.

"A horrible personality, by the way," James added.

"Outrageous," the voice objected, deeply offended.

"Though it doesn't surprise me at all for someone willing to subject others to something like this kind of condition," James said.

Shane was rubbing his face with his hands, looking aghast.

"I'll concede," the voice tried reasoning with him, "I came on rather strong. But I'll have you know, this could be a mutually beneficial partnership."

"Ohhh my god," James groaned, lifting Eve up off the ground. "This (BLEEP BLEEP.)"

"Who is he?" Shane asked, now staring into James's eyes as if he were trying to see through to the person in his brain.

"He won't tell me his name," James said. "But... I know who the original host is."

"Well, hello to you too," the voice greeted pleasantly, likely in response to Shane's searching gaze. "Please ask the adorable young man if he and Alvaro have defined their situationship yet."

James was not doing that.

Shane's jaw tensed.

"I didn't know wendigos worked that way," he said quietly. "I thought they were... more like a possessive spirit. Not another person."

"Turns out the possessive spirit is a person," James said. "Fancy that."

"Brilliant," Shane muttered, still staring into James's head.

"You're not going to see him," James said slowly. "If... that's what you're trying to do."

Shane frowned, dropping his gaze. "I don't want to."

"Yeah, neither do I," James muttered.

James adjusted Eve in his arms, letting the blanket drape down and cover her legs. He tried to support her head so it wasn't hanging back, and let it rest against his arm so she wouldn't wake up with a headache. He hoped she didn't wake up like this, honestly. It would be so awkward.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind," the voice said cheekily.

Ughhhhhhhh.

James closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, much to his chagrin. He inhaled a spore, and by god did it stink like hell's butthole. He coughed and sneezed in disgust, shaking his head.

"Okay. Let's get out of here," James said. "It's disgusting."

Shane was quick to stand up, brushing the last of the dirt off himself-- that was, the dirt that wouldn't have a hard time coming off-- wrinkling his nose against the smell as he did.

And so they departed out of the mushroom circle, back into the standard pathways guarded by basic hedges that stretched up into the sky.

The timer overhead started to feel like it was ticking by slowly as they walked, and walked, and walked. There were several times where they'd reach a fork in the road, pick a direction, reach a dead end, turn around, and find that the path they'd once taken had changed. It was impossible to navigate when the paths were always changing, and James had the sinking feeling that they weren't going to get out until the DMV wanted them to.

After an hour of wandering, Eve still hadn't woken up. The timer overhead, written in the clouds, read 3:01:23. One 'til 9. This maze was running until midnight, which meant they had at least three more hours to survive. Despite the last hour of aimlessness, James worried that their troubles would only multiply soon enough.

Eve wasn't getting heavy, but Shane and James were admittedly getting tired. James was more tired of the unending hunger than anything. It was bearable, but it was tiring to ignore it, and it really did feel exhausting to have a hollow stomach all of the time. He couldn't imagine how Aaron functioned. He probably ate all of the time. Suddenly, the image of Aaron inhaling food voraciously at the pool party made sense - as that was one of James's only vivid memories of him, anyway.

He wondered if food really was a viable way to appease the hunger, or if there was anything else that would satiate it for more than a mere moment. He felt like to explore that train of thought was pointless, though, since it wasn't like he was going to act on any of the urges anyway.

Though he did think, for a moment, that maybe he could eat some of the hedges.

It was a low thought, sure, but for some reason he was more willing to eat leaves than raw shrimp. Maybe it felt more dignified than eating something half-prepared than just eating something that wasn't food anyway - though he wasn't proud of that logic.

The wendigo hummed. "Not your best thought so far, no."

James only rolled his eyes.

With a sigh, James sat down, laying Eve on the ground carefully. He had no idea what the hell they drugged her with, but it had to be something like chloroform - probably a high dose. He couldn't imagine they managed to inject her with anything that would have this long-lasting of an effect.

Shane took a seat beside him, and James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. James rubbed his face tiredly, feeling like this was the longest five hours of his life.

"When they said pack a lunch," James said. "Do you think anyone actually did that?"

"Clarity," Shane said. "But who knows where she is now."

Right. James rested his chin on his arms with a sigh.

"...Are you hungry?" James asked. "Did you get to eat at all before we got here?"

"I did have lunch," Shane said. "Just pasta with pesto. But there's leftovers for when..."

James stopped listening when he caught a whiff of something strong. Iron.

Blood.

The hunger inside of him lurched as the scent like nothing ever before. James furrowed his brows tightly as he moved a hand over his stomach, clenching a fist to distract himself from the agonizing ache that pierced through to his chest, crawling up his throat. He felt like he was seeing red.

Closing his eyes for a moment, James hardened his resolve.

No. He wasn't going to give in to this. But if there was blood that meant someone was bleeding. Or injured. And for some ungodly reason it was like he could tell the difference. It wasn't an animal. It was human.

"Shane," he said, his voice feeling tense as he fought the animalistic urge in his body. "I think... someone's coming. Someone hurt."

He paused. "Two people."

"Who?" Shane asked immediately, sitting up and putting a hand on the ground, ready to stand.

All it took was another whiff to tell who it was.

"Jay and Aaron," James answered.

And he could smell their fear, too.

"They're scared," he said. "Best we don't spook them. Probably best if we stay put and let them find us. I think they're on our path."

"If there's anything we can do, we should help," Shane said. "We're not following competition."

"I agree," James said.

But if he was being honest, it would be better if he let Shane take the lead on this one.

"Can you... take it?" he asked a little more faintly. He could feel the sweat starting to form on his forehead from the strain.

"Take what?" Shane repeated.

"Talking to them," he said. "If they're wounded, I don't think I should... be close."

Or rather, he needed to reserve his mental fortitude for keeping the monster at bay, not managing someone else's crisis.

Shane held his gaze for a moment, his expression darkening slightly at the implication.

"If I can sit back and focus I should be okay," James said a little softer.

The smell was getting stronger. He could hear their footsteps. Slow. Limping along.

Shane nodded slowly after a few moments, getting to his feet. "I'll look--" he started, but then shot a glance ahead.

Coming around the corner, they could see the two men leaning on each other, walking at a slow pace. Aaron was standing up straighter, but Jay was curled down at his side, visibly in pain.

Good grief, what happened?

James could see the makeshift bandage around Aaron's bare stomach. It looked like Jay had a wound of similar placement, as he held his hands over the area tightly. Aaron was the first to notice their presence up ahead, meeting Shane's eyes.

Protectively stepping out in front of Jay, Aaron brought them to a stop, twenty paces away. Shane held up his arms non-threateningly, watching them with concern and a growing worry. James saw the crease in his brow deepen the further he scanned the two of them.

"Aaron," Shane said, with soft urgency. "Jay. What happened to you?"

Aaron's eyes flicked from Shane to James. James only looked back with what he hoped looked like empathy, but he was self aware enough to know his face was not friendly by default.

"Who's--" Jay said, his voice strained as he looked up, looking like he was only just noticing their presence. "Oh. The heir."

"And company," Aaron murmured, wary gaze next settling on Eve.

"What happened to her?" Jay asked, looking at the unconscious Eve on the ground.

Shane hesitated.

"We got... buried alive," he said. "And she hasn't woken up from it yet."

"Drugged asleep," James added quietly.

Jay shivered a bit as he turned away, looking from Eve to Shane again.

"(BLEEP)," was all Jay said.

"What about you both?" Shane asked quietly. "You're injured."

"We're managing," Aaron corrected with a mistrusting frown.

Shane's gaze went to Jay, who didn't appear to be... managing well.

"It looks serious," he insisted worriedly.

Aaron briefly followed Shane's concerned gaze, intense worry flashing across his face. He then turned back, unable to meet Shane's eyes again as he relented, "It was a giant spider."

Giant spiders. Those only existed on Nye. Did they ship one in just for this? If they got stung by one, the two of them needed to be in a hospital.

"Non-venomous strike," Aaron went on, as Shane's eyes widened, "but serious all the same."

Still. Hospital.

Aaron glanced back at Jay. "...I believe Jay has your friend's magic, heir. It was originally my wound."

So Aaron meant Cyrin, then. Jay had been given the ability to wound transfer. What James would give to have his original power right now. It would be so easy for Jay to transfer the wounds to him, and he'd heal in in an instant.

But James had a good pain tolerance as it was. Jay was a small man, and didn't seem to have much physical werewithal to put up with the stab wound even in the way Aaron was holding up.

"Keller lasted longer than I thought he would," the voice weighed in idly.

But James didn't care for the wendigo's commentary.

"He can give it to me," James volunteered.

Shane turned to him, frowning. "You don't have--" he started.

"I'll heal in seconds once this is all over," James defended. "It will be nothing."

Shane didn't object further, although the uncertainty in his eyes remained.

"Well," Jay groaned. "I won't... say no."

And it was a mere second before James felt the stabbing pain pierce through his back, curling up into his stomach. In a sick sense, James felt relieved.

The pain was distracting. Distracting from the hunger. He let out some of the tension in his hands, no longer in need of it. The stabbing pain shot through him, but it was far more bearable. He leaned forward heavily, letting out a sigh. In front of him, he heard Jay sigh his own relief, and caught a glimpse of him standing upright. Turning his full attention to Jay, Aaron seemed to silently fret over where the wound used to be.

Jay and Aaron began to murmur amongst themselves, but James didn't have the capacity to tune in to it.

"You know," the wendigo drawled, "you don't have to wait for the swap back to be able to heal."

He wasn't going to let the monster take over. No. Not for this. He could bear with the pain for a mere three hours of his life. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things. But a second in comparison.

You'd enjoy that, James muttered internally. But you won't get it.

The wendigo tsked with unconcealed disappointment. "Suit yourself, tough guy."

James hid his face in his hands.

Maybe they didn't need to go through the maze at all. They could just wait here, couldn't they? Good grief, he was so tired.

"Are you okay?" Shane asked quietly. He'd stepped closer, worry in his eyes.

James didn't know what happened, but apparently some time had passed already by the time he looked up.

His eyes felt glazed as they landed on Shane's hands. He was wringing them in front of him.

"I've been better," he said too passively, because there was not a good, real response to that question. But what Shane was really wanting to know was if James was going to make it.

He had just taken a stab wound. Of course Shane was worried. Naturally.

It only occured to James just now, though, that he was bleeding.

It was... a strange experience.

James looked down at his stomach, where the hole skewered through him just enough to send blood out him. Dribbling, like a wound half-healed.

Half healed. Half healed.

Jay had been half healed because he was half injured. That meant he had either shared half of the injury with Aaron, or he'd taken half of it from Aaron.

It also meant that James had taken a lesser blow, which was the only thing truly relevant at the moment.

James put a hand over the exit wound, feeling blood dribble down his back in turn. Out both ways. Lovely. He applied pressure.

Would it be strange to admit aloud that this would be the longest he'd ever bled before, without the process being actively stopped? Pain wasn't a stranger, but the persistence of it was. Like this, anyway. But it was best not to think on things he didn't want overheard by his eavesdropper.

"It helps," James said honestly. "Keep my mind off the hunger."

And honestly, he wished the wound was worse for that reason. Even still, the hunger was competing for his attention. And he loathed it.

Hand held over his own covered wound, Aaron slowly locked a wary gaze back on them. Alarm crept over his face as something seemed to just click into place for him.

Shane pulled his flannel off, passing it over to James. The front of the white T-shirt he was wearing underneath was smudged with dirt.

"You can use this as a bandage," he said, then added more quietly, "Feel free to tear it up, or anything you need. I won't be able to wear it again after this anyway."

James understood what Shane meant.

Once his powers were back, the shirt would hold too many memories. James took the flannel and turned it over the clean inner lining, tearing it into strips.

But he found himself not quite paying attention to the shirt as he did so.

He couldn't stop staring at Aaron.

Aaron knew. Aaron knew.

But he also realized Aaron couldn't leave just yet. James did something for them. Now James would demand something in return.

"You have the psychometry," James said, rolling the torn shirt in his hand.

He knew for certain, now, that Aaron had it. Since Jay had Cyrin's.

Aaron winced, but carefully conceded, "Yes."

James reached into his pocket, where he'd stowed away a singular piece of shrimp. The remains of the platter they left behind. Holding it up, he met Aaron's eyes sternly.

"Take this," he said. "And tell me what you see."

Perhaps he could have been more gentle. But he was admittedly losing patience.

Aaron simply stood there. Not out of stubbornness, but rather pure bewilderment. "I--" he sputtered, flinging an arm in James's direction. "But-- Shrimp? In your pocket?"

James's brows furrowed.

"The cat was replaced with it," James said. "And you will read it for anything useful."

"The cat?" Aaron echoed incredulously. He glanced back to Jay, then visibly deflated when he scanned over where the other half of the shared wound used to be.

With a loud, put-upon sigh, Aaron finally stepped forward. "This better yield something useful," he muttered as he took the shrimp.

Yeah, well. James was thinking the same thing. James waited expectantly as Aaron held it.

The smell of Aaron's blood, though, was difficult to block out amongst everything else. It was like the scent was screaming at him, with him being so close.

As the seconds ticked past, Aaron's indignance morphed into scorn, his lip curling into a grimace. He let the shrimp drop to the dirt as he finally said, "That was a waste."

"Tell me why," James demanded as he pulled out the torn flannel around his waist, cinching it around the wound.

"They're simply mocking you," Aaron mumbled.

James felt his skin prickle at that. It was like the hair on his back stood on end, and the anger that had been stirring inside him only burned hotter.

Whatever the DMV was trying to do, they were succeeding in pissing him off.

If the shrimp was useless, there had to be something. Because gods forbid they run into Aaron and Jay on accident. The DMV was controlling the maze and carving its paths. Theirs intersected for a reason, and James knew it had to be for more than bearing the pain of Jay's wound.

Stiffly, James turned to Eve, who remained unconscious beside him. With careful gentleness, he lifted the blanket over her and found her hands, which were still clutching the dolls like a lifeline. If they were, in any way, giving her some sense of support, then he was sorry for what he was about to do.

Slipping his fingers underneath hers, he gently pried the dolls free.

"One last request," James said. "And we will keep you here no longer."

Turning, he lifted up the dolls that imitated their party.

"Read these and communicate any useful information, if any," James said.

Aaron flicked an intent gaze between the dolls and those they were made to represent, quickly piecing together their context.

"Well that's creepy," Jay muttered from behind Aaron.

Aaron carefully took the dolls from James. "The three of you have painted rather large targets on your own backs, it seems," he mused under his breath.

Shane shifted uncomfortably, dropping his gaze.

"Is that all you got from it?" James asked.

"That's not the psychometry," Aaron answered, evenly meeting James's eyes.

James stared back with a flat glare. Quirking a brow, Aaron shrugged a shoulder indifferently before turning his attention back to the dolls.

"I suppose we were meant to find each other," he mumbled, head tilted as he focused. Then Aaron's attention snapped up to the hedge to James's right. "There's a hidden passage."

"Through the hedge?" James asked.

Aaron hummed. "It should reveal itself."

James paused.

"To us, but not to you," he clarified.

Aaron glanced questioningly back at James.

"Since it hasn't done so already," James added.

"Ah." Aaron nodded. He offered back the dolls. "Logical."

But as James took back the dolls in one hand, he reached up and gripped Aaron's forearm with the other. Intensely and meaningfully meeting Aaron's eyes for a moment, James whispered, barely audible: "It's yours, isn't it?"

And he didn't have to ask, because he already knew, but it was the smallest courtesy he could provide.

Aaron flinched under his touch, but didn't back away. After a second of fearful hesitance, he allowed a flash of thinly-veiled sadness show through as he then averted his gaze.

"Less than three hours left," Aaron said evenly. "...I'm sorry."

But Aaron misunderstood. James was not trying to ask for sympathy. He was trying to sympathize with Aaron. James already knew this condition would be temporary for him. But for Aaron, he had to live with this all of the time.

And who knew how long he'd been living with it either.

"I dooo," the wendigo sang quietly.

And James merely cussed him out for a second in his mind before he tensely released his grip from Aaron's arm.

"I'll be fine," James whispered faintly. "What I worry for is when this is all over."

But Jay loudly cleared his throat behind the two of them, ruining the moment.

Recoiling now, Aaron kept his eyes trained on the ground as he stepped away.

"Thanks, James," Jay said in a manner that was devoid of any warmth but like he was, perhaps, trying to imitate it.

James only nodded faintly.

"We'll get going now," Jay said, giving Aaron a pointed look and a nod of his head for them to move on. "Good luck."

"Good luck," Shane echoed quietly. "Stay safe."

James wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"And you two stay away," Aaron shot back, holding an arm over his stomach as he slowly turned to follow after Jay. But the brief look he landed on James was meaningful.

Ah. So Aaron wanted James to stay out of this. It made sense, of course, not only because it was private information he never should've known, but also because... well, what could he possibly do to help the situation? He was not well versed in powers spread via a singular host, and all he may end up doing by sticking his nose in was make it harder for Aaron, who James could only imagine was constantly wearied from having to manage the monster inside him at all times.

James slumped forward a bit, holding the dolls loosely in his hands before letting them drop to the ground.

Eve had been right to grab them the first time, but they weren't going to need them any more. They'd served their purpose.

Shane let out a quiet, almost sad sigh as Jay and Aaron disappeared the way he and James had gone. He didn't look himself without a flannel. Not that that was very important right now.

Behind them, James could hear the hedge rustle and creak.

As he turned his head, he saw the bushes pull away from each other, revealing an opening.

Pumpkins. That was the first scent that hit him. The smell of freshly carved pumpkins.
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.
- Dr. Mind




User avatar
176 Reviews
Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 4030
Reviews: 176
Mon Jan 08, 2024 1:40 am
View Likes
soundofmind says...



THE FOLLOWING FOOTAGE MAY BE INNAPROPRIATE FOR SOME VIEWERS. TRIGGERS INCLUDE VIOLENCE, NUDITY, COARSE LANGUAGE, AND BODILY GORE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

James carefully picked Eve up again, getting to his feet.

The hedge opened up into a huge room like a garden. Trimmed topiaries were grouped together in bulbous, geometric shapes, blooming with tiny white flowers and roses. Where the first few rooms they'd passed through smelled like death, this one was comparably a breath of fresh air.

Vines and thick bushes stretched up the room's four falls, lining the top in bushels, overflowing to all sides. The room's floor was a bed of grass, slightly overgrown around the single dirt pathway passing through it, weaving through the garden's greenery, leading to an arched door, where it was implied the path carried through to the other side.

The moonlight poured in overhead, casting shadowy shapes among the bushes, highlighting a small three-tiered fountain to the right where green water trickled quietly, gurgling into a basin held by a cupid.

James glanced over at Shane.

This didn't seem like a path. This was a place. A destination. A path cut through it, but this room was catered just for them, and no matter how innocent it appeared, he was nervous for what lied ahead.

Steeling his nerves, he held Eve a little closer, in the event anything were to jump out unexpected, like the room of skeletons prior.

"You think this is a trap?" Shane asked cautiously, giving the bushes an intense, suspicious look.

"Yes," James said, not moving inside the entrance just yet.

"We could turn around," Shane said, but he didn't sound convinced.

The moment James even considered the possibility of turning back, there was a sickening sound of branches and leaves rapidly growing, stretching, and curling into each other. Just behind them, the hedge had reformed into a wall, trapping them inside.

Now there was no other way out but through.

Feeling his stomach sink with dread, James forced himself to show no fear for Shane's sake.

"Never mind," Shane said, shoulders sinking with a heavy sigh.

"Not to make things more dramatic with a pep talk," James said, feet still glued to where he stood. "But I do hope you know I would do anything for you. If anything happens, I will do everything within my power to keep you safe."

There was a beat of awkward hesitance felt between the two of them.

"...Without... you know," James said weakly.

'Going full monster' felt like a childish way to put it, and any other version of the concept sounded far too dramatic to say out loud.

"Right," Shane said quickly.

Another beat.

"I know I'm not much of a fighter," Shane added. "But whatever I can do for your safety, I promise I'll do as well."

James offered a small smile, and even though their circumstances were ridiculous, foreign, and bizarre, there was a level of comraderie he felt on par with a fellow soldier. This wasn't James's first time being the more tactically experienced in a group. He knew how to pull his weight and the weight of others when needed, and he didn't despise it. If it was necessary, it was necessary. And he was going to protect his friends with his life. With or without his original powers.

"You're a good friend, Shane," James said, smile warming for but a moment.

"You are too, James," Shane said, a faint smile of his own flickering over his face.

James nodded.

"Well... into the unsettling garden we go, then, I suppose," James said.

And he lead the way forward, stepping out onto the path.

The moment he did, music started filling the room.

phpBB [media]


James hesitated in his steps, his expression contorting, growing more and more disturbed. The music was upbeat, with the occasional discordant flute squeaks. A puppet of a man with brown hair slicked back, dark eyes, and a broad triangular nose popped up out of the bushes with an eerily wide smile.

The puppet opened its mouth and started singing cheerily.

What if things get worse long before they get better
And you can't reverse all the damage you've done?
What if things go wrong
And instead of homework you write a song
Because it's way more fun?


With every line the puppet sang, it disappeared into one bush and popped out of another. James's head was darting around.

"Quite the likeness!" the wendigo barked, laughing with unabashed amusement. "I should've trademarked my image!"

"The (BLEEP)?" Shane demanded, looking around in bewilderment, trying to follow the puppet with his eyes.

James was rendered, frankly, speechless.

There is need to fret, though you can bet it'll get better
But probably not yet or ever, so don't hold your breath
Actually, hold it as long as you need
'Cause you locked your own cage, and you'll never be freed
And the only thing that is approaching with speed is your death


Okay. This was--

Another puppet popped up in front of them out of nowhere, wildly flailing its arms around. The puppet resembled Stravos, mostly because of the bulging blue eyes. It started singing gracelessly:

You're gonna die!
You're gonna die!
You're gonna die!
You're gonna die!


Then the Stravos puppet dipped down and disappeared. The puppet that was allegedly modeled off of the wendigo's human appearence reappeared, but this time, there were several of them. For every new line that showed up, a new duplicate appeared in a different location in the garden, joining in like a choir.

While you work on stalling, it's walling you in further
And you'll just keep falling, no calling for help
If you seek out assistance, they'll surely agree
Your entire existence is governed by me


With every last word of every line, all of the puppets would turn their heads jerkily and stare wide-eyed at James.

They'll start keeping their distance as soon as they see
That you yelp at the sight of a bee, or you're frightened for
Three thousand bite-sized bad reasons
And might try to flee if invited to teatime


This time, the puppets turned their attention to Shane instead at the end of every phrase. Then, all of the wendigo puppets pulled out kazoos. Mimicking playing them, the kazoos somehow still made sounds out of the lungless players. The Stravos puppet appeared again, still flailing its hands and arms wildly as it screamed the same thing over and over.

That doesn't matter, YOU'RE GONNA DIE!
YOU'RE GONNA DIE!
YOU'RE GONNA DIE!
YOU'RE GONNA DIE!


The wendigo puppets just swayed to the music until more Stravos puppets popped up, populating the whole garden with a sea of wendigo and Stravos puppets that were all... chaotically moving.

But when the Stravos puppet finished screaming, it finally coughed, and the song concluded with two discordant squeaks.

And just like that, the moment the song ended, all of the puppets withdrew into bushes and disappeared.

An eerie, deafening silence followed.

"What..." Shane's voice, weak with shock, finally broke it. "What the actual (BLEEP) was that?"

James had no answer. He didn't have words to put his shock into, because all he heard in that ridiculous display was a flashing warning.

Something was coming. He had to be--

A rumble made the ground beneath them start to tremble. James could sense the movement on the other side of the door at the end of the garden, hearing the clamoring and stomping of dozens upon dozens of feet. It sounded like the crunching of metal and bone. The clattering of something in a hollow shell. The smell of rot, and death, and... pumpkins.

James was about to instinctively take a step in front of Shane, but the unconscious Eve in his arms stopped him from doing so.

She was the most vulnerable right now out of all of them.

Shit.

The giant door burst open, and sentient creatures with carved pumpkin heads began to pour out, brandishing swords, clubs, and knives. James's eyes shot wide open, and in that moment his mind scrambled for a plan.

"Fall back!" James shouted, unable to grab for Shane with his hands full, but he couldn't fight these creatures off with Eve. He had to put her down, and he needed Shane to stick by her. James could handle being in front.

They had a precious few seconds to respond if this was going to work.

Shane didn't need telling twice. He moved back, eyes wide, as the army of pumpkins began to surge forward, trampling the garden in their wake. James did the same, but as he backpedalled, the moment he turned around, he heard the ringing of metal slicing through the air, sliding into skin-- and then a sharp cry of pain.

James was making decisions faster than he could think about them. Instinct was taking over.

He sprinted ahead, laid Eve down with as much care as he could, threw the blanket over her face, and wheeled around, barreling forward.

Shane was ahead of him, taking cover behind a small garden wall, a pumpkin split at his feet. A knife was lying on the ground, stained with red. But it wasn't the only thing.

Shane was bleeding. The scent filled James's senses.

The monster inside him was screaming to come out. A choir of overlapping voices erupted in the back of his mind. Screaming. Groaning. Throwing their fists against the walls of his mind in agony.

Shane slumped against the wall, frantically reaching for his neck. His hand came away sticky with red, and he stared down at it, eyes dull with shock. The gash in his throat was bleeding crimson into the white of his shirt.

James ran up to Shane, picking up the bloodied weapon on the ground. He couldn't hear his own voice as he tried to murmur: "Go to Eve. Keep pressure on it. Leave this to me."

It was an order. Not a request. He wasted no time lifting Shane up to his feet and hastily pushing Shane in Eve's direction, hoping it was enough to shake Shane from the shock so he could follow those simple instuctions. Because James immediately had to jump to the defense. Luckily, Shane had just enough awareness to stagger there, leaving a trail of red behind.

James's blade met with another. The metal clanged as James swirled the knife, disarming the pumpkin attacker, and he smashed his bare foot through its head, stomping it to the ground.

Just as one attacker was done with, James was surrounded by the swarm.

It took everything inside of him to keep their attention on him. He lashed out blows wildly, cutting and smashing and sending pumpkin heads flying across the room, bursting against the wall. But he knew he couldn't keep it up - not if he was trying to keep any of the pumpkins from reaching Shane and Eve.

The shouting in his head grew louder. And louder.

All he could smell was blood. All he could hear was the agony of so many voices, intermingling together.

Hungry. They were all so hungry. We're hungry, they agreed in despair. Like they were begging him to give in. To let it consume him.

But James was not going to let them win. Not even in this.

He absolutely refused to lose control. But what he would do, was use their strength.

You will not have me, James shouted to the monster inside. You are my weapon. MINE!

"You will succumb!" the wendigo roared back, voice distorting in his rage.

James finally made space for the monster to breathe.

Pain coursed through his body as his ribs immediately cracked and contorted under his skin. His bones were stretching. Growing. Things inside him were too big to be contained in his skin. It stretched. Split. His muscles strained against the pressure of the beast within, wanting to undergo the full transformation that he staunchly refused.

"No!" James shouted, his voice tearing in his throat as his jaw dislodged from itself, his upper lip splitting, giving way to bone.

"You will succumb to me!" James demanded, his will unwavering.

Claws split out of his fingers. A deadly focus overtook his mind as he forcefully silenced the voice inside him, and a deafening white noise took over, ringing in his ears as he slashed three pumpkins through simultaneously. The carnage splattered over his bloodied hands.

The blood was his own.

This was the cost of refusal. Constant, unrelenting agony as his body remained in a stasis.

Half human, half wendigo.

James let his anger loose on the army of pumpkins. He viciously tore them apart, mercilessly tearing them into pieces. The sticky film of pumpkin seeds coated his hands, his arms, his teeth. He didn't know how many times he sunk his inhuman teeth into a pumpkin-headed cranium, but the taste didn't satiate a thing. The war inside of him was silenced, but he could feel the raging in his chest. The man inside him was furious, and it felt like the inside of his head was being scraped clean. Claws, digging into his skull, demanding they now had a place here. A home here. Refusal again refusal, but James's will dominated, becoming a separating wall between consciousnesses.

James was fuelled by his anger. He trampled over the pumpkins, smashing them over and over until they were no more. He wasn't sure when the army of them stopped coming. All he knew was that at some point, he found himself standing amisdst a mess of orange, covered in the remains of the gourds' innards.

The hunger carved away at him, and when the onslaught of attacks finally came to a rest, his senses locked onto his allies near the door.

Two heartbeats. Both breathing. One steady, stuck in a deep sleep, and the other racing. But the smell of blood was dimming. Drying. He could smell that it was already spoiling. No longer the blood of a fresh cut - now the dried remains of something healed.

Something fresh.

The monster inside him twitched and groaned, begging, now, to be heard. To be fed.

"You're mine," the voice snarled with a desperate edge.

But he was done, now. The battle was over, and the monster's use was spent. His body was wracked with pain, contorted in ways he never imagined, and he desperately wanted to be at peace with his own body. To be rid of this. To go home.

Slouching with his fists to the ground, sitting on haunches he shouldn't have had, he focused on the claws in his hands. Starting down at fleshy, exposed skin and bone amidst fur and stringy hair, he groaned within him, using all of his strength and fortitude to will the monster back into submission. To silence. To retreat.

The wrestle in his mind throbbed like a migraine, piercing through his skull. And still, he insisted. Hunched over a mass jack-o-lantern's grave, he finally felt the presence of the monster under his skin begin to fade.

As he was forced back, the wendigo growled with frustration.

Skin, reforming. Muscles, snapping back into alignment. Bones, cracking and shrinking, popping and creaking. He shivered in relief as his skull reformed, and his eyes shrunk back into human sockets, and his mouth reshaped where it once was.

Blood coated his tongue, but he could taste it was his own. The exertion it took to restrain the beast and keep it away once more drained him. His body still stung with pain, aching in places it never had before. A wave of exhaustion passed over him, and he collapsed onto the ground, face in the earth.

A cold breeze informed him that his skin was reshaped, and he was whole again.

But he was also naked.

The transformation had torn through his clothes, and coming back together was like a violent rebirth.

This was...

Oh, James didn't even had the energy to put words to this.

"...An impressive display," the monster supplied with a huff.

He shakily pushed himself up, feeling his head spinning, and his ears ringing. The room felt like it'd tipped on its side, and he could feel the pounding of the monster at the door on his mind.

No. He had to... he had to pull himself together. He had to focus.

Eve. Shane. They were alive. Okay? He sat up, and his vision went white for a split second. Then he saw Shane.

He was crawling across the garden, clutching the blanket they'd been hauling around this whole time. The look in his eyes was glazed but determined as he got closer, the smell of crusting blood growing more intense as he did. His shirt was more red than white.

Shane handed the blanket to James, slumping next to him wordlessly. Shakily, James gratefully took the blanket, pulling it around himself, over his shoulders. It draped around him, hiding the rest of him.

"Shane," James said, feeling like his own voice was too loud. "Let me... see."

If he was wounded, they had to-- they had to do something.

Shane paused, grazing his hand over his neck. James couldn't see the skin through the blood. But he also couldn't see the cut.

"There's no need," he said in a hoarse voice. "I got yours."

James faltered, and it took a second for him to realize. Shane could regenerate. He'd healed on his own.

"Eve?" he asked. "Is she alright?"

Shane nodded. "She's safe," he whispered. "None of them got to her, thanks to you."

James nodded in turn, still feeling dazed as his head throbbed with its own heartbeat.

"Okay," he said faintly. "Okay."

He hoped that meant... this was the last of it. The last of the troubles in this room. The last of the troubles to come. What would they throw at them next? Another army of animated objects? Something unkillable? How many times would they threaten their lives for fun?

And he hated that Shane had gotten hurt. Just to prove a power. This was why James despised what his power was.

The only thing it made him truly useful for was a human punching bag. Target practice. Good for experiments. To see Shane put in his shoes for even a moment gave him a taste of sorrow and helplessness he couldn't imagine.

Was this how his family felt...? His friends? The pain of knowing he couldn't die, but that he'd always remember the pain of every death. Every wound. All of the traumas built up over time were just life to him. He was used to carrying it every day.

But Shane... he... he wasn't used to this. And he shouldn't have had to be.

God. Were they going to be okay? Was Shane going to be okay?

James didn't know anymore. Despite his reservations, he reached out and pulled Shane into a hug. He didn't care if it was awkward, or if the timing was wrong, or if the cameras were on them, watching.

James held Shane tightly, holding Shane's head to his shoulder, and he buried his face in Shane's neck, taking in a deep, shivering breath.

Words would be suitable at this moment, but he didn't have any to offer.

He wished he did.

Shane hugged him back tightly, and James could feel the shudder of his breath as his chest shook. He let out a very quiet, strangled, lone sob, and the sound felt far louder in the otherwise silent garden than it should have.

James wished he could cry with him, but the survival switch had been flipped in him a while ago. Release wasn't an option, and he knew that switch wouldn't flip back until he actually felt safe again. And he didn't know when he would feel safe again. If at all.

He hugged Shane a little tighter, gently patting his back.

"We're going to be okay," whispered, barely audible, even to himself. He didn't know when, but he had to believe they would be. This moment wasn't going to be forever.

"This will pass," he murmured.

They would recover from this, eventually. He had to cling to the hope of that.

Shane weakly nodded, taking another deep breath. "Yeah," he whispered, but there was no confidence to it. "We'll make it out."

And the hopelessness in Shane's voice made James's heart break.

He wished he could give him a lifeline to cling to. He wished none of this was happening.

Falling back to silence, he sat with Shane for a while, choosing not to keep track of time. He waited for Shane to pull away first, knowing Shane needed the assurance of physical grounding far more than he did.

Eventually, Shane's embrace weakened a little, and they each pulled away. Shane's eyes were wet, but he quickly wiped them with his less-bloody hand, taking a deep breath as he did.

"If the two of us can get on Flint's good side again," he croaked, "I'm sure you'll be getting a medal."

James let out a weak laugh, smiling depite everything.

"Well, you already have a medal in my book," James said. As if he had one in his hand, he mimed, lifting up and invisible pin and placing on the chest of Shane's shirt.

"There," he said.

Shane smiled weakly but sincerely, patting the imaginary medal. "I'll treasure it forever," he said.

James's smile waned, but he nodded again, letting his gaze drift past Shane to Eve.

Still, she hadn't moved. And they were going to have to keep moving together eventually if they were going to get out of here.

James let out a small sigh, and he leaned back, glancing down at himself. He pulled the blanket around him a little tighter.

"I'm sorry," he began hesitatly. "I didn't warn you."

Not warning that he wasn't in control, but that he was transforming... partially.

Shane shook his head, and although he looked pale for a moment, James could tell he had no hard feelings.

"You made the right choice in a very small amount of time," he assured him quietly. "And were able to bear it."

James nodded slightly.

"I can't imagine how it looked from the outside," he said faintly. "But I'm sorry for whatever you saw."

Shane grimaced a little. Not good looking, then.

"I'm glad you could change back," he said quietly.

James huffed through his nose.

"Me too," he said.

"That would make three of us," the monster hummed. "You've certainly piqued my interest, James Hawke."

But the way the monster said it made James's skin crawl. Dread and annoyance swirled in his gut at the thought that he's made himself another enemy.

"Not an enemy, no," the monster countered, voice almost a purr. "Think of me as more of... an admirer."

That make James's skin crawl even more. He pulled the blanket around him even tighter, wishing he wasn't as vulnerable as he was right now. Gods, especially with all of the cameras around.

"We should... probably find a way out of this room," he suggested.

The doorway where the pumpkins has poured through was open now, revealing a pathway out. He glanced over at it, then back at Eve on the other side of the room.

He was going to have to carry her again.

"I would love to leave," Shane agreed quietly.

James nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Let's get out of here."

Slowly getting to his feet, James moved the blanket and held it around his waist, taking a second to tie and secure it there with several knots. He extended Shane a hand to help him up, and then walked over to Eve slowly, feeling the sticky, slimy crunch of smashed pumpkins under his feet.

When he came to her side again, he carefully adjusted her dress that had shifted so her legs were covered fully again. Then he picked her up with a sigh, turning around, ready to leave.

Shane was cautiously investigating the door that the pumpkins had swarmed through, glancing at what was behind it. He turned back to James.

"Looks just like the rest of the maze from here on," he said.

That was ideally a good sign, but it felt like too much to hope for to hope that nothing else laid in wait to attack them. So he remained on guard as he joined Shane by the exit.

"I don't see any other way out," James said. "Looks like our only option."

"I'm turning around if there's music," Shane murmured.

"I'm turning around if there's pumpkins," James said. Even if it was the golden one.

Shane scowled at the passage ahead.

"I already really hated pumpkins for no reason," he said with a quiet sigh, stepping through. "At least I'm finally justified."

"We can share in pumpkin hate together," James agreed, deciding to take a step forward, leading the way out.
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.
- Dr. Mind




User avatar



Gender: None specified
Points: 350
Reviews: 1
Tue Jan 09, 2024 10:34 pm
View Likes
urbanhart says...



Bzzzt. Rewind. Let's go back to the beginning of the maze because we forgot an important group here.

The camera pans to Hild, Clandestine, and Kazimir all walking together, thirty second into the maze. Because, yeah, they are a group.

Naturally, the hedges move the further in they get, the design of the maze changing.

At this, Hild at the front of their little group came to an abrupt stop, glaring heatedly at the hedges.

"There's no point, then," she huffed under her breath, moodily pocketing her small notebook.

"Hm?" Clanny asked, turning around. "What'd you say?"

"There's no point in taking notes," Hild clarified.

"...Notes?" Clandestine asked in confusion. "You were taking notes?"

"Oh, (BLEEP) we had to take notes?" Kazimir said.

"No," Hild answered reassuringly. Then her resolve quickly wilted. "I don't believe so, anyhow." Her confidence crumbled completely with just another second of thought, and she whipped out her notebook again. "Actually, I think I shall."

"What are you taking notes on?" Clanny asked. Kazimir, however leaned over to see without asking.

"Everything," Hild answered with growing urgency.

"...Everything?" Clandestine asked.

"She's writing down what we're saying," Kazimir said, looking over Hild's shoulder.

"Oh, wait, is this because our magics got switched around? Oh, shoot, I'm so sorry I didn't even think to ask! Are you guys okay? Do you feel any different?" Clandestine started to ask.

Hild's expression pinched with intense focus. Or irritation. Likely both. She only scribbled furiously on to her third page already.

"I don't feel bad or anything," Kaz said, looking down at his hands. "Can't make zappies, though. Feels weird."

He clapped his hands together, as if to try anyway. No luck.

"I can't hear animals anymore," Clandestine said with a little pout. "But I am starting to feel a little cold. Are you guys cold? I don't think I'm getting sick or anything."

She rubbed her bare arms, trying to warm herself up, since she was only in a tank top and shorts.

"I'm not cold," Kazimir said. "It's hot as usual out here. Are you cold, Hild?"

Hild kept scribbling.

"...Hild?" Kaz asked. He poked the side of her head with his finger.

Blinking, Hild glanced between the two with worry. "Cold? Who's cold?"

"Me," Clanny said, letting out a little shiver. "Wow, haha. Maybe someone was getting sick? Can you get someone's sickness when you switch magics? Brr."

Hastily turning to a new page, Hild started a new list.

"Here," Kaz said, stripping his shirt off, for which the camera zoomed in and added a sparkly filter to his abs. He tossed his shirt to Clanny, and it landed on her reddening face.

"Wh-what--?" she stuttered.

"To keep warm, obviously," Kazimir said like it was obvious.

"Lyall's abilities come with a downside," Hild said, leaning sideways for Clanny to better view the list. "He loses heat at an alarming rate. You must have his pyrokinesis."

Clanny took the shirt off her face and sheepisly pulled it over her head while she looked at Hild's list. Shivering a bit, she pulled the very oversized tshirt around her tightly like a blanket, hiding her arms in it.

"Well, that's kind of a bummer of a side effect," Clandestine said with a little laugh. "Okay. So I should be able to make fire? Is this a thing I should try? Or, uh..."

"DUDE YES!" Kazimir answered before Hild could. "Fire! Fire!"

"Gods, no!" Hild cut in, frantically waving both arms. "Not-- not aimlessly, anyway. We should use it as a last resort, or if the maze requires it for the overcoming of an obstacle."

"Oh, okay," Clanny said with a nod.

"Awwww," Kaz said in disappointment.

But then the camera comedically cut to them standing in front of a giant bush blocking an opening through the maze. On the bush was a paper sign that simply read: "Burn me."

The three of them stood, staring at it with squidward blinks for a moment before Clandestine looked over to Hild with a shrug.

"I guess this is what I'm supposed to use it for?" she asked.

"That's it?" Hild sounded severely disappointed.

"I like it. Simple. Easy. Straight-forward," Kaz said with a nod.

"Maybe you should all stand back?" Clanny said, looking up at the bush. "I've never done this before."

Hild just frowned as she studied the sign. "Is there no hint at a deeper, more thought-provoking task?" she pressed.

"Maybe it means to just... burn the sign?" Clandestine posed. "Like a trick question."

"No way it's that deep," Kaz said.

Hild nodded. "No, that's good thinking. Start--"

She stopped herself short, expression going blank. Her brows slowly knitted together, her visible disappointment returning ten-fold.

Clanny and Kazimir both looked at her expectantly. Clandestine looked worried, and Kazimir just looked confused.

"...Are you okay?" Clandestine asked softly.

Pressing her eyes closed as she exhaled through her nose, Hild evenly said, "I have the mind reader's abilities."

"Uhhhh, who reads minds?" Kazimir stuttered. "Someone here reads MINDS?"

"She's talking about Stravos," Clanny. "You know the guy who's really pale. Big blue eyes."

"The creepy guy?" Kaz asked.

"Well, I mean, that's not really nice to just call him that, he has a name," Clanny said a little sadly.

"So what, you can read our minds now?" Kaz asked, looking down at Hild with his hands on his hips. "Okay. Read my mind. What am I thinking right now?"

Hild turned a flat look up to the giant of a man. "I'd rather only use it in the context of an obstacle," she said, "seeing as we are pressed for time."

"Well how do we know if you can read minds if you can't prove it?" Kaz asked with a tilt of his head.

She huffed with the irritation of someone whose authority was just challenged by a younger sibling.

"I mean, I trust Hild not to--" Clanny said softly. But Hild cut in.

"You hate this island," Hild started sharply, "the maze has you on edge--" She jabbed a finger at him. "I will have you know, sir, that I do not smell of bovine. And evidently your relationship with your father is--" She hesitated, then carefully finished, "Tenuous."

Kazimir looked haughty and snarky up until her last comment, and then his confidence visibly fell. There was an awkward pause.

"W-wow," Kaz said with a weak laugh. "You really suck at this. Only the beef one was true."

After a brief flash of concern in her eyes, Hild masked it by leveling him with another unamused stare.

"You mentioned Stravos' mind-reading had a pretty spotty success rate," Clanny said. "Do you think it'll be useful at all, or do you think you'll just have to bear it 'til the maze is over?"

"It's... a distraction," Hild conceded slowly. "I don't know how to turn it off. But, I'm stuck with it until our time here is up."

"I have a feeling Stravos can't turn it off either," Clanny said. "Maybe that's why he hides away all the time..."

Hild studied Clanny closely for an oddly long beat, appearing unable to focus. Delayed, her eyes softened for a micro-second, before she folded her hands together and turned her attention back to the sign on the hedge.

"I have full confidence in you," she said firmly. "Proceed, please."

Clandestine's eyes went big at that, and a small, hopeful and encourage smile formed on her face before she nodded confidently.

"Okay!" she said, taking a step forward and looking up at the bush. She looked like she was trying really hard to focus by staring at the sign, but then blew a raspberry as she decided to engage her hands, snapping them as if to start a fire that way.

After the fourth snap, a sudden fwoosh rolled out of her fingers, and a large tunnel of fire shot out in front of her, completely consuming the bush. And the sign.

The whole thing caught on fire.

Staring up at the burning bush with wide eyes, Clandestine slinked back to Hild and Kazimir, looking a little embarassed.

"Uhhhh... sorry," she mumbled.

"Dude, what are you talking about?" Kazimir said with a surprised laugh. "That was sick!"

He slapped her on the back, and Clanny stumbled forward for a moment before jabbing him in the side with her elbow, a bit playful, but still serious.

"Hey, watch your strength, man," Clanny said with a small laugh.

"Oh, sorry," Kaz said, and his apology at least sounded genuine. He lifted up his hands. "No more touchy."

"Just no more pushy," Clanny said. "I'm like a foot shorter than you, dude."

"True. You're right," Kaz said, clearly accepting the chasten.

"Well, uh," Clanny said, looking back at the blazing bush. "...Do we have to wait for it to burn?"

With fast-growing concern pinching her features, Hild watched as the bush burned. Then she visibly grimaced. "...Perhaps," she said slowly, "we could have given it more thought, but. Yes, I suppose all we can do is wait." She hesitated before turning to Clanny. "Be ready to contain it, if need be."

Clanny nodded slightly, looking ashamed of the massive flame she conjured. Meanwhile, Kazimir looked up at it in awe, with his hands on his hips.

"What powers do you think I have?" he asked.

Clanny looked to tilt her head at him. "You still don't feel any different?"

Kazimir pursed his lips, looking like he was trying to think very, very hard.

"I feel sweaty," Kazimir said.

Clanny glanced at Hild, then clutched the man's giant shirt around herself a little tighter.

"So, like," she said. "The opposite. Of me."

"Yeah," Kazmir said, nodding like she was onto something. "Yeah, I'm like really sweaty. The whole world is sweaty."

Clanny made a small grimace, pulling back her lips like she was simultaneously amused and a little disgusted at that.

Hild quirked a brow. "We are on a tropical island." Brow then furrowing, she hummed. "...More, ahm, sweaty than normal?"

Kazimir slapped his arms at his sides, much akin to a penguin.

"Yeah I'm leaking over here," he said. "Been ever since we started. The fire's not helping though."

"Since starting the maze?" Hild tried clarifying. "But, not before?"

"I guess so," Kaz said. "I thought it was just, uh. Well not stress because I'm not stressed, haha. Just... you know, when you get hyped to get your head in the game."

"What kind of powers make you sweaty?" Clanny pondered aloud.

"Hyperawareness to moisture," she said slowly in thought. There was still a hint of doubt in her voice. "...And you're certain it's not stress?"

"Nah," Kaz said. "I'm really fine."

His eyes narrowed at Hild, and he pointed a finger accusingly. "Also I don't sweat that much," he said with a huff.

Her look turned flat. "So tonight is the exception," she concluded. Tilting her head, she went on thoughtfully, "According to my half-brother, element-based magics make an individual more sensitive to the presence of that element. Perhaps you have Miss Clarity's magic, then, pertaining to the manipulation of liquid particles?"

Kazimir stared at Hild blankly.

"The what?" he asked.

"Water manipulation," Hild clarified simply. She pointed to Clandestine. "Indeed, the opposite of what Miss Clanny received."

"Wait, so I could put out the fire, then!" Kazimir said with his eyes brightening.

"I feel like you probably need a source of water...?" Clanny murmured, looking around in thought.

"Yes," Hild agreed, likewise scanning their surroundings. "Unless. You'd like to challenge yourself by concentrating the moisture in the air. Though, I'm not sure even that would yield enough to douse the fire..."

Kazimir let out a singular, loud: "Hah!" And then stretched out his arms. "Bet!"

Clanny glanced over at Hild and then took a large step back as Kazimir moved to stand squared in front of the fire, taking in a deep breath as he brought his arms in front of his chest, fist to fist, holding a sort of standing meditative position. He stood there with his eyes closed, head down as he appeared to enter a deep focus.

Clanny looked like she wasn't sure if they should interrupt or not, but she bit her lip like she decided it was better not to say anything. As they watched the large man stand face to face with the fire, they could visibly see the beads of sweat on his body start to move, slowly, as if on their own volition.

At first, they trickled up his shoulders, and it looked like all of the moisture was travelling towards his hands.

Then he pulled his fists apart, opening his hands together, palm to palm, and the water itself pulled off of his body, condensing into a floating orb in front of him.

There was something about it that was simultaneously peaceful and intimidating. Kazimir still had yet to open his eyes, and he took in another deep breath.

As he inhaled deeply, suddenly, all of the liquid humidity in the air began to form into little droplets - like stagnant rain, frozen in place mid-air.

Slowly, the droplets started to merge, one by one, and then - all at once.

With a rush of water past Hild and Clanny, all of the water suddenly turned into a wave. It passed through Kazmir's hands, and he directed it towards the fire. As the water passed through, it turned into a fire-hose-like spray, beating the flames into submission.

After 30 seconds, the fire was doused, filling the now-dry air with a thick smoke.

Kazimir finally opened his eyes and took a step back, clapping his hands together. With a cocky smirk, he tilted his head to the side, finding a camera in the corner that caught everything to make eye contact with. Pointing, he said: "That was for you, babe."

Presumably, he was talking about his girlfriend, it was a bit vague. There were definitely viewers taking that personally.

"Well!" Kazimir said, facing the two of them with his hands on his hips. "I think we passed that test."

And just as he said so, the burned bush behind them crumbled to ash, opening up the path to the next area.

Through the thick smoke that was descending around them, it looked like they were about to step into an equally thick fog.

Clanny coughed, nodding.

"Dude, that was insane!" she said, impressed.

Kazimir smiled cheekily. "Hehe. Yeah it was."

"A master of the elements," Hild agreed warmly. "Well done."

The three of them then proceeded to walk forward, passing into the dark cloud of mist. It wasn't before long that they started slowing, unable to see more than a foot in front of them.

"Hey," Clanny said, grabbing Hild's hand. "We should probably stick close to each other. I can... see in the dark, I think, but I can still barely see in here."

"It's just fog!" Kazimir said a few steps ahead of them. "We can hear each other."

But then the camera dramatically cut to where he was no longer there, and Clanny and Hild could no longer see him.

There was worry in their eyes, and they stood with their hands tightly gripping one another's. Clanny called out: "Kaz! Kazimir! Kaz? Where are you?" But there was no response.

"Of all the thriller tropes," Hild muttered to herself as she reached blindly through the fog.

A montage played of them both wandering aimlessly, searching for their teammate and a way out. But instead of finding a door or Kazimir, they bumped into someone else. Quite literally.

Clandestine let out an oomph as she and Tula collided, neither seeing one another until it was too late. Tula reeled back for a second but sprung back quickly, while Clanny's bounce was absorbed into Hild, who kept her steady.

"Oh! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I can barely see in here," Clanny said. "Are you okay?"

Tula frowned with disgust when she saw Clanny, but it faded when her eyes flicked to Hild, coming into visibility from the fog. She dusted herself off, frantically glancing around.

"I'm fine, but have you seen Clarity? I was just with her a second ago," she murmured.

"No, we haven't seen her," Clanny answered. "We lost Kazimir a while back. Did you see him at all?"

Tula shook his head. "No. I was with her a second ago, but then thick fog rolled in. We must have separated then." She huffed out some air, hand on her hips. "Sheesh! This is like a creepy horror film."

After a second's delay, Hild agreed in a polite tone of voice, "A rather underwhelming one, at that. Thus far."

"I'm glad we haven't run into anything too creepy," Clanny murmured. "Like zombies or skeletons."

Tula frowned, brows creased together in worry as she ran one hand up and down her other arm. "Zombies? Skeletons?" she squeaked.

Clanny shook her head with a faint laugh.

"Good thing zombies don't exist, eh?" Clanny asked.

"On the contrary," Hild countered plainly. "Cases of 'zombie' creatures exist in nature. For instance, there's a strain of cordyceps fungi that has infected insects such as ants, gradually taking over all functions of the host until all that's left is the infection within the husk of what once lived. Additionally, in recent times on the threshold of human society, there is an increasing rate of scientifically confirmed quote-unquote 'monster' sightings, particularly those that closely resemble zombies and other resurrected life forms."

Clanny leaned in to Hild's ear and whispered: "Yes, but, I'm trying to calm things down."

"Oh my gosh!" Tula yelped, crossing her arms running her hands up and down her upper arms as if she was cold. Or perhaps, relieving herself from the fake heebie jeebies. "Does that actually exist? Have you seen it?"

Clanny looked hesitant.

"Well - yes - but it's really not that common!" Clannt tried to assure her.

"I'd be happy to provide percentages of these increased sightings rates," Hild helpfully added, quirking a brow at Tula's theatrics.

Tula let out a nervous chuckle, slightly tilting her head towards Hild. "Um! I think I'm good, thank you."

Hild slowly nodded. "I'll spare you the comfort that statistics might offer," she relented.

"Well - anyway," Clanny interjected. "You, uh, you lost Clarity. How about you join us in the meantime 'til we find her?"

"Oh! I'd love that," Tula said with a warm smile, then turned to Hild. "Is that alright?"

Hild politely inclined her head once more. "You're more than welcome, yes."

Tula clapped her hands together. "Sweet! I'd love to join you both. Isn't it kind of weird that we haven't all hung out together before?"

But the music playing on the TV switched subtly from ominous, semi-peaceful misty notes to something more tense and sinister.

"Yeah! It kind of is. We should hang out more often! I feel like I don't see you enough," Clanny said.

"Maybe it's because we don't cross paths often enough," Tula said with a nod as the three of them resumed their walk through the maze. "How do you usually spend your time these days, anyways?"

"Well, honestly I spend a lot of it taking care of my animals", Clanny said. "That and hanging with housemates. Alan's also started teaching me piano, so there's lessons and practicing!"

"Oh, cool! Sounds like you're super busy. Animals and piano sounds so fun. I'm not around animals too much sadly, and I've always wanted to play an instrument. Maybe someday," Tula said, looking off with a dreamy expression.

"So, what recreational activities do you engage in usually?" Hild asked.

"I read a lot," Tula said as she tapped the side of her head with a smile. "There's so much to discover and explore in the written world. And it's all up in here."

"What have you been reading about recently?" Clanny asked.

"I've been really into nonfiction lately, actually! I've been reading a lot on art history. Right now I'm reading about fashion history. Interesting stuff!" Tula said brightly.

Hild cast a vaguely interested glance over her shoulder. Or a suspicious one. Hard to tell. "An adventurous mind," she commented. "I would've taken you for more of a romance appreciator. Perhaps of the fantasy variety?"

Tula's eyes sparkled and she grinned. "How did you know? I love fantasy romance books! Do you read that as well?"

Hild hummed as she shrugged. "No, I do not. But something about your...bright countenance suggests you enjoy the perfect fantasy resolution of 'true love's kiss'."

"Awwwh," she cooed. "That's so sweet. You know, I love seeing love." Tula playfully elbowed Clanny and Hild's sides at the same time. "Is there anyone special here? Or at home?"

Clanny drew away a little.

"Not for me," she said with a bit more of a reserved, polite tone. "But it's fine! I'm enjoying single life."

Hild just recoiled with an open grimace.

"Aw, it's alright, Clanny! I'm sure someone will love you one day," Tula said, then grimaced. "Oh no. I'm so sorry. That came out sounding bad. I'm sorry, common isn't my first language."

"An honest mistake, I'm sure," Hild cut in, a new edge to her voice that suggested insincerity. "How about yourself, Miss Tula? Anyone..." She mustered a half-smile. "...catch your eye, as they say? There's no shortage of eligible suitors on the island."

Tula let out a long, dreamy sigh. "Yes, actually," she said with a longing voice. "But he'll never notice me."

Looking ahead once more, a faint look of rueful resignation fell over Hild's face. "So, a bachelor," she concluded. "Who might this man with faulty vision be, then?"

Tula smiled sheepishly, bashfully tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "How did you know he has faulty vision?"

"I didn't," Hild confessed, tone turning somewhat flat. "But you've certainly narrowed it down for me."

"There's something about glasses that look so..." Tula let out another longing sigh. "...dreamy."

Hild arched a brow at that. "I think he ought to get them repaired. Maybe then he will better notice you."

"Oh, maybe you're right," Tula said brightly with a little smile. "You're friends with him, after all. You know him best. Do you really think he'd notice me?"

Blinking, Hild furrowed a confused brow. "I assumed you knew him better than I, seeing as he is your cabin mate."

Tula's eye twitched slightly as she retained her smile. "Oh, haha," she said a little too forcefully. "No. Not him."

"Not who?" Hild pressed. "Now I'm unsure that we're on the same page anymore."

"Ah, right, sorry," Tula said with a nod. "I forgot we all switched magics. I expected you to be five steps ahead of me, but I guess without your magic, you fall behind. That really sucks. Sorry about that."

"Well, I think it's more just that you're both being a little mysteriously vague," Clanny chimed in like she was trying to be helpful. "But I know our magic getting switched around has probably made us all feel a little unlike our normal selves."

"Oh, do you feel different?" Tula hummed, but then ignored Clanny and turned to Hild. "Does your new magic make you feel different?"

Hild frowned as she came to an abrupt stop. "Of course it does," she said sharply. "I've lost access to the deepest archives of my own mind, and am instead now cursed with unending access to the innermost thoughts of those around me." She narrowed her gaze at Tula. "The better question here would be, why aren't you so affected?"

The edge of Tula's lips curled upwards ever so slightly. She studied Hild, taking in every word. "I have Connie's magic. A blessing in disguise, I think, to only have magic that works when others are sleeping. But for you, it must be so difficult to sift through so many fake thoughts. That sounds absolutely exhausting."

"I feel like maybe we should talk about something else," Clanny suggested.

"An excellent idea," Hild quickly agreed, schooling her features once more.

"Perhaps we can play a game?" Tula innocently suggested instead.

"We're already in the midst of one," Hild countered.

"Ah, silly me. Of course you wouldn't like to play a game. I rescind my request," Tula said with a sly smile, a hint of mockery in her voice.

"Surely the true potential the rewards ahead may hold," Hild said evenly, "is not lost on an intelligent woman such as yourself. Much like the reading genre of your choice, there must be more to you in general, beyond the ditzy, unearned romances. A hint of an adventurous spirit, perhaps? A fighter, even? Anything to help you successfully pass the Bechdel test. Even minimally."

"Excellent idea, Hild!" Tula exclaimed, a skip in her step. "I love hearing your perspective. I'm a professional photographer, so it's refreshing to hear descriptions of other people's perceptions and sights. There's something so refreshing about being able to see through the lens of another person that way, don't you think?

Hild hummed. "This new ability is a sufficient exercise in perspective taking. For instance..."

She pursed her lips as she intently studied Tula. Or was simply staring her down. Could very well have been both. Either way, Tula was giving her the same intense treatment.

"...Your methods of problem solving are deeply flawed," Hild eventually concluded. "A product, no doubt, of your romantic worldview. Even mildly drunk, you should know that running around, kissing the first face you see won't lead to anything fruitful."

Tula scoffed indignantly, but just as she was about to say a rebuttal, she flicked her eyes back and calmed down.

Because Clanny was gone. Huh! Where did she go? Must have left for plot-convenient purposes. Good thing, too. She must be somewhere more wholesome. Maybe to the random fog off to the right.

"Oh no," Tula said without emotion. "My ex lover is gone."

Gaze hardening, Hild slowly turned to face the now-empty spot where Clanny was just mere moments ago. Then she threw her hands skyward in exasperation. "Perfect," she muttered to herself, "you have only two jobs for the night. Two people to keep track of, and it hasn't even been an hour."

"Oh, don't worry, Hild. I will help you find Clanny. After all, we're all friends, right?" Tula said through a fake smile. "I'll stick by you. You won't be able to lose me that easily. After all, everything is so noisy to you. You must have someone by your side. I insist."

Hild shot her an unappreciative look as she began marching away. "Somehow, I don't find that, coming from an obsessive maniac with the barely-repressed urge to stab somebody, a comfort. I'll decline the offer, thank you."

Tula smiled coyly, amusement flickering in her green eyes as she more closely studied Hild, following behind her. "Tell me what you really think, brainiac."

"Where to even begin?" Hild muttered. "Ah, I know. What you truly think. I need to confirm whether or not you've been actually ruminating on the mental image of myself, entirely headless."

"Oh, my," Tula said with an exaggerated gasp. "That's very rude of you. How dare you accuse me of thinking of such horrors."

Hild's expression turned dark. "Never mind the fact that you've committed actual atrocities."

"Have I?" Tula said with an innocent tilt of her head. "Please indulge me. After all, you think I'm so stupid and ditsy. Please, can you spell this out for me, Hild? What atrocities have I committed outside of love?"

Whipping around now to face Tula directly, Hild looked ready to retort. She bit back her words for a moment instead, to recompose herself once more. "Forgive me," she said aggressively, clapping her hands together, "but I can't quite access that information at the moment. And I'd much rather prioritize locating my displaced companions, if I'm to move on from this maze, and thus move on with my life."

"Oh, but please, Hild," Tula mocked, her smile turning more devilish. "I'm a fool in love. Don't you want to talk about your short-sighted friend with me?"

"I'd much rather you get a life and a real personality," Hild said flatly. "A search that will hopefully take you to the far ends of the earth, away from me."

"Meow," Tula teased. "Feisty little girl, aren't you? You're no fun."

Nose scrunched with disdain, Hild rolled her eyes. "I must now insist you find a new partner. Clearly our values do not align, and this is not a sustainable dynamic. As a parting word, though, I'd like to personally assure you: it's not me, it's entirely you."

"Oh, no! The braniac is breaking up with me," Tula mocked. "I'm so heartbroken!"

Casting a dead-inside stare out to the foggy middle-distance, Hild huffed unhappily through her nose as she finally turned away again, in search of her teammates.




User avatar



Gender: None specified
Points: 350
Reviews: 1
Wed Jan 10, 2024 12:11 am
View Likes
urbanhart says...



A little under two hours into this new venture, and they'd been walking for a literal eternity. And Lyall still wasn't sure whose magic he'd received.

Maybe... It was possible he was wrong. He'd honed in on the possibilities of either James's regenerative powers or Alan's influence, but the way Lyall defined 'invaluable' could very well have differed from how Maeve defined it.

But, then again, the Trieus had endless wells of insights on everyone. So there was no real reason for Maeve to not account for the skillsets Lyall prioritized. Aside from simply being a pain in the arse.

Walking with his shoulder to Cyrin's arm, Lyall decided he at the least could narrow this down through basic process of elimination. He knew for certain he didn't have Connie's dreamwalking, nor Miss Clanny's animal speak. Cyrin and Alan already had those. Respectively.

He knew that an elemental-based magic would alter the thrum, the very essence of his physical being. So the complete absence of anything like that coursing through him was indicative of not having any of those. Which scratched Kaz and Clarity off the Potential Powers list.

Shane's psychometry would've been obvious from the start. Hild's limitless access to the depths of her conscious mind did not seem to take root in Lyall's own. And he found he wasn't constantly assaulted by the thoughts of those around them, which also ruled out the shaggy mind reader.

What was Eve's again? Something relating to time? No, reliving the past, but not having the ability to affect it. So, did that make her power a self-contained thing? Or could she actually rewind everyone's reality, but no one would know because, well. They just wouldn't. When Lyall gave it a conscious effort, even though he didn't know what that entailed exactly, he determined it wasn't likely he had Eve's.

Mister Robin of Nye was a werewolf. Lyall presumed that was a package deal, complete with heightened senses even in human form. As far as he could tell, his senses were more or less the same-- if perhaps a little sharper now, but only because he was on high alert anyway.

Lyall stopped in his tracks, trying to will... some sort of change into existence. He intently visualized the various features of a wolf-- a tail, claws, anything. Nothing came.

Cyrin and Alan naturally stopped after a few steps, looking over their shoulders.

"Everything okay?" Alan asked. Shrimp meowed as if to second the question.

Lyall deflated. "Yes," he answered, "just having a think."

"Thinks are good," Cyrin assured him.

"What's on your mind?" Alan asked with a small smile.

Lyall hid his hands in his pockets. "The powers swap." He gestured to his good friends as he went on, "I, of course, did not receive dreamwalking, nor the ability to communicate with animals. Since those are already taken."

Alan hummed. "So you've been thinking on what magic you might have?"

Lyall cracked a silly grin. "Ding ding ding! Get this man a gold star."

Alan smiled and half-rolled his eyes, resuming his walk as he gestured for them to follow. "Well, maybe we can think through it together. Do you have an idea of whose magic you may have? Or don't have, perhaps? It could be easier to work backwards."

With a friendly nudge of his elbow to Cyrin's side, Lyall sprang back into step with Alan. "Three steps ahead of you, my good sir. I've gone through half the island by now."

Cyrin laughed. "I expected nothing less."

Lyall playfully shot him a flat look. "I'm realizing about a quarter of the contestants," he went on, "I'm actually not very sure of. Like, in general. My sister might have mentioned for Alexander a memory-related magic, but I've yet to actually confirm with the man. And all of his cabin mates are a complete mystery to me."

"Maybe we start with what you do know, then," Alan suggested. "Whose magic could it be that we can rule out right now?"

Exhaling through his nose, Lyall ran a hand over his hair as he thought. "I know of yours, Alvaro. Obviously. If it's Cyrin's, I'm even less tempted to test, because that would require A Situation to begin with. Whether or not James's, ahm..." He pursed his lips. "...secondary abilities come with the regeneration, I'm-- You know, I'm actually sure they don't. Or, if they do, then I certainly don't have his. I tried."

"Alright," Alan said with a thoughtful nod. "Well, that's a good start. Cyrin and I are here now. We can help you rule that out, at least."

Alan didn't seem to catch onto Lyall's clearly-laid-out hesitations. That, or he was simply more willing to work with those kinds of risks.

Arching a brow, Lyall hopped ahead to walk backwards in front of Alan. "What do you propose, then?"

Alan watched Lyall walk for a moment, then pursed his lips as he glanced to Cyrin walking by their side. "I don't want there to be A Situation, like you said. So maybe we could test to see if you have my magic?"

"You can try something on me," Cyrin offered. "I don't mind."

"Actually, if Lyall does have my magic," Alan cut in, "then I'd like him to try it on me." He shrugged. "Not out of bravery or being a test subject or whatever. I'm actually just curious to see what it'd feel like to be on the receiving end."

Cyrin nodded. "That's fair."

Lyall plastered on a breezy grin. "If I do have Alan's magic," he said, tone reassuring, "then not to worry, my dear Bridger. I'd be more than happy to saddle you with some embarrassing task or other after we've confirmed, if that'll make you happy."

Alan playfully smiled, narrowing his eyes at him. "Sounds like you have something specific you'd like me to say or do."

"I've only been plotting for about a day," Lyall agreed lightly to mask his lingering reservations.

"Well, come on then, Lyall. I'm dying to know," Alan said just as lightly, then stopped in place and extended his hand for him to take. "Why don't you give my magic a shot?"

Lyall hummed as he slowed to stop in front of them.

'Low impact suggestions', right? That's what Alan had explained the night prior. If he wanted to avoid unintended consequences.

Clapping his hands together, Lyall said, "Two tests might be in order, then." He pointed his steepled fingers at Alan. "For one, I will try and suggest something well within character. With a direct response in compliance, we could reasonably assume that it's worked, yes?"

Alan nodded with an amused smile. "That's right."

Lyall turned to Cyrin. "For the other, I'd like to try something entirely outlandish. I'm curious about these consequences, previously mentioned during one of our first deeper discussions between the three of us." He spread his hands in a relenting gesture. "Only if you two are up for it, though. Consent, and whatnot."

Alan raised a curious brow. "It sounds like you have something in mind. Sure. That's fine by me, with or without magic." He paused, laughing through his nose. "Emphasis on the 'without magic.' If you're curious about something, you can always ask us. I don't think you need magic for that."

Lyall grinned, already formulating a small 'task' for each. "Perhaps not," he agreed lightly, "however, since we may or may not have this opportunity now..."

"I'm down for it," Cyrin said, their grin playful and intrigued.

Alright. Good. Both were willing participants. Shouldn't be so bad, then.

By order of suggestions, Lyall first stepped up to Alan and set a hand on the musician's shoulder. He knew exactly what he wanted to ask of Alvaro.

"Would you be so kind as to roast me, at the top of your lungs?" Unable to contain another silly smile, Lyall added, an echo of Alan's own words, "In the most theatrical way possible?"

Still smiling, Alan stared back at Lyall for a moment, not reacting. Just as the silence felt a little long, and Lyall began to doubt he actually had his power, Alan set his hand on Lyall's shoulder as well.

"You know, Lyall, you're kind of weird," Alan teased. "But not in a bad way! In fact, I rather like it when people are weird. I say we should be weird, and peculiar, and unusual. If that's who you are, then stay weird."

He grinned, pulling away and suddenly twirling across the path while extending Shrimp out in front of him. Using all the air in his lungs, Alan sang loudly and proudly for all to hear.

Spoiler! :
at the 02:49 mark ish
phpBB [media]


"So let them think that we're crazy!" Alan sang with a light in his eyes, holding Shrimp high up. "Break the rules they made up! Let them think that we're just a little weird. Honestly, we probably are!"

With a broad, endeared grin, Lyall couldn't help but laugh a little as he watched the man shamelessly dance with a cat dressed as a pharaoh.

He waltzed back to Lyall, ruffling his hair and grinning as he continued in song. "Just a little peculiar." He poked his cheek dimple, and Lyall playfully swatted at his hand. "Maybe more than a little." Alan reached down to take Lyall's hand, then reached over to take Cyrin's as well. "But life's far too fleeting for us not to be who we are!"

Walking backwards, Alan led the two of them a few steps ahead where a big boulder sat on the ground. He promptly let go and shuffled up, broadly gesturing out in the open air with dazzling eyes, cat still in one hand. Shrimp stuck out his paws.

"Let them think that we're crazy!" Alan sang, the loudest and most passionate Lyall had ever heard him. "Break the rules they made up! Let them think that we're just a little weird! Honestly, you and me, truthfully -- it's just who we are!"

Alan sang out the last note for several long seconds, committed to the act as he stood tall, like he was in the final number of a musical. When he finished, Alan took in a sharp breath then grinned, taking a grand bow, still on top of the boulder.

Huffing out through his nose, Lyall had to applaud his friend's performance. "Mild, as far as roasts go," he said with a playful tsk.

"Shrimp was a paid actor," Cyrin said, grinning as they clapped as well.

Alan lightly smiled, standing up straight as he gazed down at the cat, a contemplative look falling over him. "I think... it worked," he said slowly.

Lightly scuffing the dirt with his heel, Lyall hopped over to the base of the boulder and offered a hand. "I was just about to ask," he said, "if that was in fact your own magic, or fickle inspiration."

Alan took his hand, hopping down in front of him with an amused smile. He pulled his hand away, studying Lyall. "I see you picked a personalized low impact suggestion," he commented.

Lyall tucked his hands in his pockets, tilting his chin up with a triumphant grin. "As promised."

Alan huffed through his nose and bumped his shoulder. "Well, since you have my magic, don't do anything dumb. That's my only piece of advice."

Angling his head down, Lyall tried leveling him with a flat look. His amusement slipped through anyway as he countered, "I'm not the one with the track record of small brain moments."

Alan gave him the barest of nods, seeming puzzled as he let the words sink in.

"I have a gold medal in that," Cyrin cut in, sitting down on the rock. "You'll have to take that one from me."

Lyall snorted. "Nay, please. Keep your medal. Alvaro already has both a crown and a gold star to show for it."

Alan scoffed. "You're tempting me to roast you without magic right now."

Lyall's grin broadened. "And you're free to do so. After we've completed the maze." Sliding up next to Cyrin, he draped an arm around the athlete's shoulders. "I've got another quick test to run, anyhow."

"Related to my magic?" Alan asked, readjusting his hold on Shrimp so he was back to cradling him.

"But, of course."

Lyall had said he'd pick something outlandish for Cyrin. Honestly, the sheer level of theatrics in Alan's performance somewhat already checked his box for something silly and ridiculous, but. He wanted to know about these 'consequences' pertaining to Alan's magic, if indeed Maeve would allow for it.

"Do your worst," Cyrin said with an anticipatory, lighthearted grin. "You have my full permission."

"Alright, then." Lyall hopped back to study his friend an arm's length away, putting on a show of contemplating this deeply by stroking his chin as he narrowed his eyes. Then, with a snap of his fingers, slid closer again to rest a hand on Cyrin's shoulder. "Enlighten me, my dear Bridger: what is, perchance, about the dumbest thing you've witnessed Alan do thus far?"

Alan gave him a long, flat, unamused look. "Really?"

Lyall shrugged with a shameless grin.

Truth be told, though, this was a risk. Depending on whose logic this was going by, this would either yield some laughs or unnecessary tensions. Lyall was by no means a religious man, but he was praying Cyrin's interpretation of the 'dumbest dumb moment' prompt would lean toward the former result.

Cyrin's gaze unfocused a little, as he stared into the mid-distance.

"Used the toilet as a dance stage," he said finally.

Alan groaned, facepalming. "You said you'd never tell anyone," he muttered.

"I didn't account for a charm," Cyrin said innocently.

Lyall blinked. Silently looked back and forth between the two. Then burst out laughing to the point that his sides actually started to hurt. "Oh my gods," he wheezed, leaning on Cyrin, "you actually-- So it was you!"

"Oh, yes. Hilarious. Laugh it out," Alan said with a half-roll of his eyes, but then smiled continued down the path, beckoning for them to follow. "Let's hurry it up, otherwise you two chuckleheads are on your own."

Springing into step beside Alan, Lyall nudged him with his elbow. "Oh muse," he playfully pleaded, "curb your wrath! For two fools such as ourselves would be lost without your guiding light. Your aimless wanderings, spurned on by the chance encounter with the metamorphosed. The golden scepter of the theatrical ruler of llamas!"

Cyrin smothered a laugh.

Alan frowned, casting Cyrin a sharp look. "I don't wander aimlessly," he said stubbornly with a scoff.

"Wander... circuitously?" Lyall tried, biting back another snort. "Labrynthine?" Clasping his hands together, he imitated the movements of a snake with his arms. "Serpentine?"

"What does that even mean?" Alan asked indignantly.

"Ahm, indirectly," Lyall supplied, folding his hands behind his back. "Winding. Meandering?"

"Aren't we all doing that?" Alan gestured to the hedges around them. "We're literally wandering in a maze."

Lyall followed Alan's hand with his eyes, sideways to the walls. "None quite as spontaneously as you," he added, just to get the last word in.

If Alan or Cyrin said anything after that, though, it was lost on Lyall. Behind the leaves, he caught sight of something shimmering in the low-light, then a flash of his own green eyes staring back at him.

He slowed to a stop, all humor falling away as he tilted his head curiously. The hedges no longer looked like full-on shrubbery, now that he was truly paying attention to them. Rather, they looked like a curtain of vines, hanging over...mirrors.

"I was thinking we'd walked a long way without seeing a new challenge for a while," Cyrin mused.

Lyall hummed his agreement. Reaching out, he drew back some of the vines to find it was indeed an entire wall of silver panels, ornately framed and hung tightly together so that nary a hedge nor actual solid wall showed.

"What is that? Mirrors?" Alan asked, poking his head over his shoulder.

Shrimp let out a meow that sounded like he was trying to imitate the word "mirrors".

"Yeah. Mirrors," Alan murmured with a nod.

Shrimp let out a satisfied purr.

Straightening, and lightly bumping Alan's chin on accident as he did, Lyall peered down along the path where Cyrin already stood contemplating what lied ahead.

Farther along, the vines were gradually phased out, and the fog thinned to reveal a new ceiling that hadn't been there before. The glass walls curved and met in a gothic arch, mildly distorting their dozens of reflections as they peered back down at the three.

"Oh my god!" Alan suddenly called with a laugh, running to a mirror ahead. "Alistair?!"

Brow furrowing with confusion, Lyall watched closely as he drifted behind Alan.

In one of the framed mirrors stood... Alan's own brother? Alistair. Whose face Lyall immediately recognized, courtesy of having very briefly seen him via video calls.

The brothers stood at the same height. As Alan drew nearer, the contrasts became clearer. Alistair had more a street style, apparel-wise, and wore all black. He was well-built, more muscle mass than Alan, but still looked to be on the slimmer side due to the rather loose fit of his clothing. His hair was unkempt and his brown eyes worn, but his smile was still quite kind and affectionate like Alan's. They both excitedly greeted one another, and Lyall heard the tail end of their conversations as he drew near.

"Life in the mirror isn't so bad, actually," Alistair said, then shrugged. "I just sleep all day."

Alan scoffed. "You do that anyways."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Lyall stopped a few paces away, to observe, and to keep from intruding.

This surely wasn't the real Alistair, sleeping away his days in a silver prison. This had to be some other kind of... island hell magic.

"Oh! You should meet my friends," Alan said eagerly, pulling in Lyall's hand to yank him forward. "Finally, you get to meet Lyall. And--"

"Bro, I don't see anyone," Alistair said with an amused huff.

Alan glanced between Lyall and Alistair, hesitating. "I guess you can only see me," he murmured.

After stumbling a bit, Lyall cast Alan a concerned look. "He's probably not real," he said slowly, trying his best to be gentle but still frank.

"Looks like a very realistic enchantment," Cyrin suggested. "He's still talking to you like he might normally. Maybe he's got something to help us with."

"Right. Yeah," Alan said with a nod, turning back to Alistair with a smile. "Hey, man. I'd love to talk to you some more-- believe me, I miss you so much-- but is there a reason why we're here? Is there anything you can help us with?"

Alistair nodded, leaning forward so his forearm was pressed against the mirror. He leaned his forehead against his arm, face close against the mirror. He seemed bored and indifferent, but still tiredly smiling from being in Alan's warm presence.

"Yeah. You're in a mirror maze. To get out of it, you'll want to take the path to your right. You'll hit three intersections, but you will want to go straight for each one of them. On the fourth intersection, you'll take a right. Then it forks to two diagonals. Take the one to your left. Go straight at the next tri-section. Then take a right." Alistair paused. "You got all that?"

Alan glanced uncertainly at Cyrin and Lyall. "That's oddly specific... but yes. I think so."

"Oh, and you'll encounter other people. This is just the start," Alistair added. "The directions I gave you are right to my knowledge, but I'm not a walking map. If someone you trust comes along and gives you different directions, you should take it."

Alan nodded. "Alright."

"Oh, and bro?" Alistair went on. "Watch out for traps."

Alan gave him a sharp look. "Traps?"

Alistair stood back up, shrugging as he placed his hands in his pockets. "Don't look at me. I'm just a mirror in the wall."

Alan sighed, rubbing his face. "So helpful, man."

Alistair scoffed. "You're welcome."

Standing back, Lyall glanced back and forth between the brothers with a fascinated grin. True, Alistair here wasn't actually Alistair, but rather an enchantment. But it was still a rather genuine conversation on Alan's side; it wasn't unlike every other time Lyall witnessed the two talk together, thus making it still a warming sight to behold.

Down the hall of glass, the abrupt sounds of swinging panels caught Lyall's attention. Before he could fully register what was happening, and before Alan had a chance to step away, the mirror with Alistair's image thrown across its surface pivoted. Emptiness behind it was revealed for just a split second. In the next instant, it caught Alan entirely by surprise as it swept him up with it.

Cyrin muttered a curse through clenched teeth as they dove yet again to try to grab Alan, their fingers just barely catching the surface of the mirror, but not Alan. They cursed-- and it wasn't in Common, but it didn't sound like Aphiran either-- and tried to grab the mirror edge to swing it around again.

However, the mirror moved far faster than they accounted for, and it flipped two full times in the space of a moment. For an instant, on the first rotation, Lyall could see Alan behind the pane. It was in that instant that Lyall finally had the presence of mind to move to help too. But the mirror kept swinging, and soon, he was gone again. Cyrin tugged on the mirror again, but this time, it seemed fixed in place.

Defeated, Cyrin stepped back, glowering at the mirror.

"Not again," they muttered.

Lyall drifted to a stop next to Cyrin, with a similarly resigned groan. "(Bleep), why does this keep happening?" Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled at the mirror, "Alvaro!"

He was met with an unfortunate silence.

Lyall uttered another curse. "Where was it you said you two ended up last time?" he asked, turning a look of thinly-veiled concern to Cyrin. "With the sphinx?"

"...Cat cushion break room," Cyrin said. "I don't think they mean for harm to come to him. Doesn't help the fact that we're separated, though."

...Yeah, that still didn't quite make sense to Lyall. What exactly did a cat cushion break room entail?

Bumping elbows with the athlete, Lyall stepped around Cyrin to peer down the hall. "Hopefully he's not far again," he said. "And they allow us to find him."

"Hopefully," Cyrin agreed. "We should get a move on--"

A new figure appeared in the mirror, and Cyrin flinched. Actually flinched. Instantly put on high alert for it, Lyall stuck himself between them and the mirror-- and found himself standing face-to-face with Casper Bridger's likeness.

They were another sibling set with strong facial similarities. But the resemblances really stopped there. With dark, shorter hair neatly swept back, a sharp business suit, and the smarmy smile of a self-important narcissist, Casper Bridger was descended from arguably the most impeccable gene pool in the modern era, and for what? He had the pungent air of an especially entitled someone that Lyall would find utmost pleasure in personally engaging in a gentleman's boxing match. Despite the obvious physical imbalances of such a scenario.

Really, this fellow should feel honored. Lyall very rarely felt so strongly and negatively about anybody.

"You look lost," Casper mused, tilting his head to the side with a smirk. "Are you losing at this game?"

Lyall watched Cyrin stiffen, the ease normally found in their composure suddenly vanishing as they stood to their full height.

"Casper," Cyrin said evenly.

Casper grinned. "Sorry to see you too."

Lyall wanted to offer some cutting remark-- but there wasn't a point. It was a mere enchantment, that only had the wherewithal to interact solely with the person for whom it was made. And so he could only watch Cyrin's jaw tense.

"Where's Alan?" they demanded.

Casper glanced over his shoulder boredly, as if Alan was somewhere in the mirror behind him, but like he didn't care to actually find him. "Oh, your little friend. I don't know. Why do you care? You seem to have enough trouble looking out for yourself."

Cyrin gritted his teeth, glancing at Lyall.

"I'm sorry, this will be pointless," he muttered.

Casting one last glare over his shoulder, Lyall turned and faced Cyrin. "Alistair's reflection said we should listen to someone we trust, anyway," he said, softening his voice. "Ergo, we should simply move on. Not spare him another second."

Cyrin nodded, returning his gaze to the mirror with a hard, cold look.

"Right," he muttered.

With a gentle hand on Cyrin's back, Lyall silently beckoned them along. Cyrin moved, but it was with a delayed start.

"Oh, not that way," Casper called tauntingly. "Unless you're aiming to lose."

"We're simply aiming for distance!" Lyall couldn't help but shoot back at the horrendous reflection.

Whether or not Casper had heard him, he heard a sharp, cruel laugh from behind them.

The Fates did bless them with a bend by which to effectively disappear, fully disengage.

"So," Lyall started, ready to move on as quickly as possible, "according to Alistair's instructions, we first bear right. Then keep straight for three intersections, another right on the fourth, then a left at the next. Straight once more, then a final right." He tucked his hands into his pockets again. "Also, beware of traps."

Felt like they'd already failed that last one, not even five minutes in.

Gods, where was Alan this time?

Cyrin didn't answer out loud, simply nodded to confirm. Their gaze was sharp as a nail and directly focused on what was ahead.

Lyall quietly let his gaze wander to the mirrors on either side of them. In the vague hopes that he'd spot an Alan reflection to indicate he was in fact simply meandering somewhere nearby.

"Sorry about him," Cyrin said after a minute, voice strangely neutral.

Brow furrowing slightly, Lyall looked back to his friend. "No need for apologies," he said gently. "I'm only sorry that this has been forced onto you. I can only imagine how...unsavory it is for you. To say the least."

Put like that, for politeness and appearances' sakes, it felt terribly lacking, as far as words of comfort went. Lyall turned a bitter eye to the corners of the hall, searching for any cameras.

Cyrin let out a weary-sounding laugh. "Yeah. You got that right."

Perhaps lingering on it wasn't the best thing right now. They had a mission, a friend missing, and only a little over two hours more to finish.

They took their first right, and Lyall heard Cyrin counting the intersections under their breath-- one, two, three, four-- before the two of them turned right again. Once they got to the left after that, however, Cyrin froze in their steps, and Lyall bumped into their back with a surprised 'oof'.

"Oh, haven't you got better places to be?" Cyrin grumbled.

Casper's reflection had made it back to the mirror at the end of the hallway ahead.

Casper shrugged, looking back with a lazy smirk. "Just thought you'd like to know you should've taken a left back there. You do hate being trapped."

Cyrin's eye twitched.

Well, this figured, Lyall thought darkly. The enchantment seemed to only serve to harass them relentlessly.

"We don't have much farther to go, I think," Lyall said, firmly setting himself in front of the mirror to draw Cyrin's attention away from it. "We're about halfway through, right?"

"Right," Cyrin said, but he sounded bothered. "Halfway. Let's keep going."

"Ah, ah," Casper said, holding up a finger on both hands and shaking his head. "Might want to check your blood pressure first. It's looking awfully high."

"You--" Cyrin inhaled a deep breath. "You are a reflection on a two-dimension pane of glass. You don't have the magic to tell me about my blood pressure here. Thanks anyway for raising it."

Casper shrugged. "Alright. What would I know, after all? It's not like I'm part of this maze."

A quiet thought made Lyall pause.

The mirror segment couldn't be so easy as...just waltzing right out of there with the first set of instructions given to them. There had to be a twist, right?

Blight upon the island that it was, maybe they needed to try mining some more information from Casper Bridger's image. More unfortunate, though, this duty would have to fall on Cyrin's shoulders. Judging by the complete lack of responses aimed Lyall's way from either reflection--

Suddenly there was loud barking and growls emanating down the hallway. A disheveled, grizzled wolf was approaching on all fours with giant, blue, bug eyes and an alarming amount of drool sloshing out of its open mouth, fangs bared with rotting teeth.

For all intents and purposes, a hellhound, if Lyall ever saw one.

"BARK! BORK BORK BARK BORK BARK!" the wolf yelled, jumping off mirrors like a wild animal, sending the mirror maze to look like a wolf kaleidoscope. And he was heading straight for Lyall.

Before Lyall could process-- much less think of a plan-- there were arms around his chest, pulling him back and away from the wolf with surprising force. As he stumbled back against the mirror behind him, a comet of black shot past him, launched at the wolf.

Cyrin and the wolf crashed together, colliding violently, but not for long. In the snap of the moment where the wolf was unbalanced, Cyrin wrangled it on its back, wrapping his arm around its neck, pinning it in place. The wolf thrashed, growling and snarling and yelping in response as it flailed its legs.

"Run!" he shouted to Lyall, while the wolf continued to thrash and snap its jaws, its black, rotted teeth closing on air inches from Cyrin's sleeve.

Shaking himself from his shocked daze, Lyall pushed off the mirror to jump into the fray.

Something shifted underfoot with that singular step. The mirror swung, smacking Lyall's side as it deftly swept him up.

"Cyrin--" Lyall called, in a split-second of sheer panic.

Casper, who he had heard laughing, was suddenly silenced. So were the sounds of the struggle as the mirror's edges sealed up once more, plunging Lyall into a kind of darkness he hadn't known before.




User avatar
147 Reviews
Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 10085
Reviews: 147
Wed Jan 10, 2024 12:12 am
View Likes
Carina says...



Honestly, Alan didn't know what happened. It seemed he was talking to Alistair's reflection with Lyall and Cyrin behind him one second, and then he blinked, and he was... in a new mirror room? What the hell?

Shocked, Alan whipped around from the direction he came from, only seeing flashes of Cyrin and Lyall as the mirror quickly rotated a few times. Before he could even begin to process that, the mirror then stood still, leaving Alan and Shrimp alone with Alistair's reflection again.

"What the hell?" Alan sputtered out, pointing accusingly at the mirror he went through. "Where'd they go?"

"Bro," Alistair sighed, hands in pockets. "I said watch out for traps."

"I didn't step into a trap," Alan said defiantly.

"Uh-huh." Alistair smiled, walking down the pathway of mirrors, which led into a straight line now. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Hesitantly, Alan wondered if, maybe, all of this was a trap. After all, Alistair wasn't real. Why did it suspiciously feel like he was entering a trap?

"Dude, I'm just here to get you out," Alistair said tiredly over his shoulder. "Hurry up, man."

Hesitantly, Alan briskly caught up, matching his pace. He couldn't stop staring at his brother in the mirror, though. Alan normally didn't stare, but, well, this was Alistair, so he didn't care. But also, it was Alistair in a mirror. It was strange and, frankly, a little unsettling since this wasn't real.

Right?

"Please stop staring at me," Alistair deadpanned.

Alistair was still looking straight ahead. In... whatever mirror path he was following. Yeah. Alan didn't know why he needed to be led to this straight path, but he wasn't going to question it.

"My friends say you're not real," Alan said uncertainly, still not looking away as he walked.

"Probably not. Life is probably one big stupid simulation anyways. Nothing's real," Alistair said bluntly.

"It's just... uncanny. The way you dress, and talk... even your mannerisms are like him," Alan murmured, squinting as he looked him up and down again.

Alistair scrunched his face, casting him an icky look, but then ignored him. They walked in silence again.

Yeah. Very uncanny.

"Maybe I'm your guardian angel," Alistair suddenly said as they neared the end of the mirror path.

Alan couldn't help but snort at that. "Yeah. Sure."

"I'm serious, Alan," Alistair said, stopping at the corner of the mirrors, hand pressed up against the glass. "Don't be so naive. You could use someone looking out for you."

Alan studied for a moment, unable to get past how real this all looked. From the dark circles under his eyes, to the old silver necklace he always wears, it was like every detail was accounted for. He truly wondered if there was some truth behind this enchantment.

Alan placed his palm over his brother's hand against the glass, smiling softly as he stood eye-to-eye in front of him. "Thanks, Alistair. I know I can always count on you," he said quietly, voice sincere.

Alistair smiled back, but before either of them could say anything more, a sudden thick fog rolled in. Flinching, Alan pulled away as he frantically looked around, registering what was happening.

"Lyall? Cyrin?" he called uncertainly.

Alan clutched Shrimp tighter as he reached forward to press his hand against the mirror again, but it was... gone.

"Alistair?" he called as well, but of course, there was no answer.

He ran through where the mirror used to be, but it was like he was in a big open space with thick fog that completely obstructed his view. Just as he thought about taking another random direction to aimlessly wander, he heard a voice.

"Hello?" Clanny's familiar voice called out. "Is anyone there? Hild? Tula?"

"Clanny!" Alan yelled into the mist, bolting towards the direction of her voice. "Can you hear me?"

"Alan!" Clanny shouted back. "I'm over here!" And it sounded like her voice was getting closer.

"Keep talking to me! I'll follow your voice!" Alan called out, laughing as he kept running into the mist.

Visbility was low, but there didn't seem to be any walls here. Just a big open room with mist.

"Lalalalalala!" Clanny started to sing-song. "I'm talking and talking and talking--!"

Then they ran into each other, the both of them running with high speed.

Clanny smacked off of Alan with an "oomph," stumbling back onto the ground. Still holding Shrimp, Alan lost his balance, landing on his butt on the dirt.

"We're pancaked again," Shrimp said dismally, seeming to think that was the new default word for falling.

"It's okay! You're okay," Alan said with a laugh, petting the cat's head but then quickly shuffling over to Clanny on his knees.

It only took a few shuffles until she became visible. She was still on the ground, albeit a bit dazed.

"Clanny! Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, hand on her shoulder.

"Ugh," Clanny said, sitting up and rubbing her face. "That's the second time I've run into a person. Sorry. I should be more careful."

"Here. Let me give you a hand," Alan said as he stood up, warmly offering a hand out for her to take.

But just as he did so, it was like the ground beneath him slipped under his shoes-- or maybe it was the fog, or gust...?-- and he fell forward again, this time landing on Clanny. At least her body provided cushion for his fall, but he immediately felt bad that he winded her from the sudden weight.

"Pancaaaaaaaaaake," Shrimp said cheerily, batting a paw at Clanny.

"Ack! I'm so sorry!" Alan sputtered out as he rolled off her, scooting backwards while still holding Shrimp in tow.

Clanny wheezed a bit, but offered a small, amused smile.

"Oh, it's okay," she said, brushing herself up as she sat up again. Her attention fell to Shrimp, who'd pawed at her. "Oh, hey little buddy. Looks like you found him. I was really worried when I heard he'd gotten lost."

"Clanny!" Shrimp purred. "I can't understand you any more, but I missed you!"

Alan smiled warmly, slowly getting to his feet as he flicked his eyes between Shrimp and Clanny. "Do you want to hold him?" he asked.

Clanny nodded with a smile.

"Come here, lil baby," she said, reaching out and taking Shrimp. She brought him into a gentle hug and kissed his snoot. "Mwah!"

Shrimp purred, snuggling in her arms. "Hi!"

Alan beamed, fully endeared by how affectionate Clanny was with the cat. Now that Alan could understand him, it was almost like she was showering love to a small child.

A small, furry child who demanded constant cuddles.

"Hehe," Clanny said, snuggling her face against Shrimp's. But her smile faltered and faded. "It's weird not being able to understand him... and just hear meows."

Alan nodded with understanding, reaching over to scratch behind his ear. "The feeling is mutual on his end. He can't understand you, but he still misses you all the same. I think it's beautiful how love transcends language, even across animals. At least you both can understand each other that way."

Clanny pouted, very much looking down at Shrimp with the human equivalent of puppy eyes. It was comical, but also cute.

"Aww," she squeaked. "You missed me?"

"Did you miss her?" Alan asked Shrimp, smiling wide.

"Yes!" Shrimp chirped. "I did! She gives good cuddles and can chat with me!"

Alan grinned, patting his head as he turned back to Clanny. "He does miss you, and he loves how you give good cuddles and can chat with him."

Clanny looked like she was just about moved to tears, but she smiled.

"Aww, I love you too baby Shrimpy!" she said, giving the cat a little squeeze as she giggled. Shrimp purred again.

"She says she loves you too, buddy," Alan said, still warmly grinning.

Shrimp puffed up his chest. "Yay! We should meet more then!"

"He suggested that you meet up more with him," Alan translated.

"I will 100% do that," Clanny said, nodding.

"Looks like you're going to have more visitors, bub," Alan said with a little laugh to the cat.

Clanny chuckled, but then her expression shifted, looking to Alan more curiously, and a bit worried.

"Hey," she said. "I thought you were with Cyrin and Lyall. What happened?"

Alan was quiet for a few moments, idly petting Shrimp, who was still in Clanny's arms. "We lost each other in a mirror maze. I think they're okay, though." He looked back up, offering a smile. "I think the fog came in to reshuffle the groups. I mean, that's probably why we ran into each other. So we can find each other."

"Ohhh," Clanny said. "Hm. I guess that makes sense. I hope Hild and Kazimir are okay... Tula, too. I think a lot of people must have gotten lost in the mist."

"I'm sure they're fine, but it does still suck. I wish there were a way to communicate with them," Alan said with a sigh.

"Like walkie talkies or something," Clanny hummed, looking down at Shrimp dotingly, booping his snoot again.

"Or, consider: phones," Alan said with a grin. "Did you happen to bring your phone with you?"

"Oh my gosh, lol, you're so right," Clanny said, offering Shrimp back to him before pulling her phone out of her pocket with bright eyes, only for the light to dim once she looked at her screen. "...Or not. No cell service."

"Figures."

Alan pursed his lips, going through other options of how else they could communicate. Nothing else reached his head. He'd just have to wait it out, but that was fine. They'd see each other in no time, he was sure.

Instead, a random thought popped in his head, and Alan grinned at Clanny again. "Well, since you have your phone out anyways, let me take a picture of you with Shrimp so you can memorialize the day that you communicated with love and meows, not language."

Clanny's expression brightened again.

"Oh, that's right," she said. "You can talk to him, can't you? You got my power?"

Alan laughed, nodding. "Yeah. I have your magic. And it's amazing. I love how you can hear all living creatures, no matter how big or small."

Clanny grinned faintly, reaching over to pat Shrimp's head.

"Yeah..." she said with a small laugh. "It's great, actually. I... it feels weird not to have it, honestly. It's like losing a sixth sense."

Alan empathized with her, imagining how it would feel if, one day, the little voices of the wind and grass and earth suddenly... disappeared. He was a bit disoriented when he first walked into the maze full of little insect critters, but he could imagine it being much more disorienting suddenly taking it all away.

"It must be so quiet for you," he said softly.

"Yeah," she said with a small huff. "Now I'm just... cold. It's a side-effect of Lyall's powers, I guess. He can't keep warm."

"Oh," Alan said as he processed this new bit of information. The pieces were falling into place now, especially since he was standing close to her, radiating in her warmth. "That's a side-effect? I didn't know that," he murmured, then paused. "It's strange that you're cold, but from here-- you're very warm."

"Yeah, it's 'cause he loses heat by creating it," she said. "But he's cold as a consequence. Makes sense now why he wears all those layers on a beach."

Huh. That did make sense. Alan figured Lyall liked sweaters. Him being cold did cross his mind, but he didn't realize that would be an effect of his magic.

He made a mental note of it. Keep Lyall warm.

"I also made a big fire earlier," she said, still idly scratching Shrimp behind the ears. "To get through one of the maze obstacles. I got really cold after that, hah. I kind of wish I wore something else before I got here. Kazimir gave me his shirt, but it's just a t-shirt, you know?"

Ah! This was so rude of him.

Alan began to unbutton his collared shirt, fully aware that he was going to be shirtless, but Clanny was cold.

"Oh-- Alan, no, it's--" Clanny started to stutter with a nervous laugh. "Dude, I'll be okay. I was just-- complaining!"

"And I'm blazing hot, especially since I'm next to you. So you're doing me a favor," Alan said said a smile, unrolling the sleeves of the shirt. "Plus, this shirt has sleeves. It'll help."

Clanny let out a small sigh, looking a little embarrassed as she smiled faintly at the ground.

"Only if your shirt's not too sweaty," she commented. "Then I'll just be gross and wet with your sweat."

"Well, the mist did kind of make it damp," he said as he peeled his arms out of it, extending the beige shirt for her to take.

"Ewwwww," Clanny said with a small laugh, exchanging the shirt with Shrimp and feeling it for a moment. "Eh... well, ok, it's not that bad."

With a sigh, she relented and put the shirt on. It looked a little silly over Kazimir's bit grey t-shirt that swallowed her, with some random video-game graphic on it that Alan didn't recognize.

"Does it help keep you warm?" he asked, cradling Shrimp with both hands against his chest, oddly comforted by the fur rubbed against his body as he purred.

"A little," Clanny said. "It might help if I get moving again. Staying sitting like this makes me a little more chilly."

Clanny then looked over at Shrimp.

"Shrimp is your shirt now," she said jokingly.

"I should get a shirt with his face on it," Alan said as he cracked a grin, walking towards the the open path as he beckoned with his head for her to follow. "Maybe we can start a Shrimp fanclub. We can both be vice presidents. What do you say?"

"Shane is the president, right?" Clanny asked, getting to her feet and matching his pace.

"Of course! He owns him, after all. So he spends the most time with him and loves him so much," Alan said. "It's only natural he's the president."

"Maybe I can be, uhhhh," Clanny said. "The chairman of the club. That sounds like a cool name. I don't actually know what a chairman does but I can sit in a chair, man."

Alan huffed out an amused puff of air, smiling. "Maybe you can be the treasurer."

Clanny turned to look at him, slightly narrowing her eyes in amusement. "Oh really? Why that instead?"

Alan innocently shrugged. "Because you're really good at counting money?" he offered playfully.

Clanny snorted, shoving his shoulder. He let out a chuckle.

"Yeahhh, okay, Alan," she said teasingly. "Sure, sure."

Then she clicked her tongue. "Well!" she said. "I guess we're a new team, now, huh? What do you say - let's find a way out of this fog and look for a pumpkin, yeah?"

"To be honest, I don't know if I care about finding this pumpkin, but I would like to leave," Alan said with a little laugh.

"Oh, come on, where's your sense of competition!" Clanny said. "I want to win! Or, at least try, you know."

He hummed, keeping his walking pace steady as he glanced off towards the familiar hedges. "I guess I don't really understand the prize. We're both under the healing and harmony list, but I don't really know what that even looks like."

"Hm," Clandestine hummed. "I guess I get that. But Mireya explained it, right? Sounds like it's just... a chance to try again, I think. But I guess if we're being honest, we don't need a competition prize to do that..."

"Right," Alan said with a nod. "All you need is sincerity."

"Is there... anyone you'd want to start over with?" Clanny asked a little more softly. "Or, I don't know if that's the best way to put it, but. Yeah..."

She looked down at her feet, scrunching up her oversized shirt a little in her hands.

Alan didn't mean to be silent for too long. But if he were being perfectly honest, he hadn't given it a thought yet.

Not because he didn't want to. He just didn't have the time to really reflect on it yet. They were constantly moving, and he was busy with Shrimp and his friends. He didn't have time to think of what-if scenarios, especially since he didn't even think he'd win this to begin with.

A quiet name did come to mind, like a gentle whisper. But he was afraid of saying it out loud.

"I think I have someone in mind," he finally said, voice quiet. "What about you?

Clanny huffed faintly, but it was a sad kind of sigh. "Yeah. Me too."

There was a short pause, but Clanny kept going.

"It's... Tula," she said faintly. "I feel like things have just been so weird with us ever since Ooktoberfest. But even before that... I don't know."

She frowned, letting out a small sigh. Alan looked over, feeling the heaviness and regret in her words. He didn't know what happened, but he didn't need to. He could hear that she was experiencing some kind of loss, wishing things were different.

"Who's it for you?" she asked softly.

Alan cast his gaze straight ahead, rubbing his thumb against Shrimp's head, silent for another long moment. Finally, he sighed, settling on an answer.

"It's a little ironic, perhaps in a comical sense, or perhaps in a tragic sense that we both chose people for similar reasons," he said softly. "I'd pick Shane. I also think things have been weird between us ever since Ooktoberfest. I don't know if a magic prize can fix what's been done, though."

"Yeah," Clanny said with a sad sigh. "It's not like the perfect setting changes what's already happened, or even changes people's feelings about it. Either way it's still a hard conversation to have. But... I don't know. I don't really care too much about winning for the prize, but... I guess now that I'm talking about it with you, I'm realizing I should try to mend things anyway. Waiting around for the 'perfect setting' seems a little unrealistic. Most people in life don't get that with regular relationships, and just 'cause we're on a show doesn't mean we have to do things differently."

"Yeah. That's true," Alan said, his turn to let out a heavy sigh now. "I agree that waiting around for the perfect setting can be an impossible task. Sometimes you just have to... do it. Even if both parties end up hurting. You can't always hide what the heart feels, after all. Difficult conversations are necessary, even if they're painful to have. We may be in a foreign environment, but I also don't think that makes us any more special. We're all just people trying to figure things out."

"So true," Clanny said with a small nod.

And after a beat, she nodded again, but this time more firmly.

"Okay, then," she said, puffing out her chest. "It's decided. I'll talk to Tula tomorrow. Maybe I can come with a peace offering, like her favorite food or something. I may have secretly asked Alex what it was. Please don't tell her."

"I won't. I promise," Alan said with a smile. "That's really thoughtful of you, Clanny. If she really cares about you, she'd listen and give you a chance, especially since you're very kind, thoughtful, and considerate."

Clanny huffed, smiling faintly at the compliment.

"Yeah, well, I wish you luck with Shane, too," Clanny said. "Whenever you find the courage to have that conversation with him. If you ever need someone to hype you up for it, know you've got a gal in your corner."

She pointed to her chest with her thumb, and then pounded it with her fist, pointing to him. He couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh at the theatrics.

"Thanks, Clanny. That's really nice of you," he said, then paused, suddenly feeling a teeny bit awkward. "But I don't think that's needed. I already talked to him earlier this week. We're good now."

Right...?

"Oh! Well, shoot, that's great!" Clanny said with a little laugh, but then her smile dropped a little. "That's... weird, then. That they still put you on the list for it. Huh."

Alan slowly registered her words, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. Was there a reason he was put on that list to begin with? He figured it was... well, he didn't even know. Random?

"Just because it seems like they did all the lists pretty intentionally," Clanny added.

Alan turned to her, slightly creasing his brows together. "You think it's intentional?" he asked.

"I mean... why wouldn't it be?" Clanny said. "The DMV doesn't strike me as random."

"I don't think we need to overthink it," Alan murmured.

Clanny shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right," she said. "Well, anyways. Hopefully we'll find a way out of this mist eventually. I feel like I've been stuck here for hours."

"The mist makes me want to sneeze," Shrimp meowed, putting a paw on Alan's shoulder. "My nose is itchy!"

Alan scratched Shrimp's nose. "It's alright. We're almost out of it," Alan said softly, then turned back to Clanny with a small smile. "I hope your talk with Tula goes well, though. It sounds like you care a lot about her."

Clanny pursed her lips, squinting as she looked to the side for a moment before she shrugged with her lips and her shoulders.

"I... I mean, I guess. As much as I care about anybody," she said. "I don't actually know her that well. We just got off on the wrong foot."

"Oh," Alan said with a slow nod.

"I just don't-- well, okay," Clanny went on. "Really the gist of what happened was she kissed me during Ooktoberfest. It was really random and out of nowhere. She keeps giving me mixed messages about how she feels about it, but I'm getting the vibe that maybe it meant nothing to her, and it was just whatever. Because it's almost like she's annoyed at me bringing it up, or even existing. Like I just keep reminding of her of it by being around. Even though it was her idea. And-- gosh, sorry, I probably shouldn't be processing this with you. I should be saying this to her."

She dragged her hands down her face in frustration.

"Ugh. Sorry. I'm just thinking about all of this again because I just ran into her in the maze and it was so weird," she said. "I don't understand her."

Okay. So this was a lot, but Alan did his best to keep up. It sounded like a delicate situation that was constantly changing. Clanny sounded so frustrated, and for good reason too. Opening a dialogue was certainly the best way forward, but it was good that Clanny was venting too. It seemed she needed to let it out.

"It's alright. I don't mind listening," Alan said soothingly with a smile. "That does sound weird. Tense, too. Maybe it's hard for either of you to understand each other because you haven't opened an honest dialogue about what happened."

"See, I tried, though, and..." Clanny said weakly, but then flopped her arms at her sides, slouching with a sigh. "Ugh. Sorry."

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. I want to listen," Alan assured. "Maybe Tula doesn't feel safe in talking about it yet. Sometimes it can be difficult to have tough conversations if you're not ready to talk about it."

Clanny straightened up a bit, bunching up her t-shirt in her hands with a small huff.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I just wish it never happened."

She paused, then looked up at Alan.

"You know?" she asked.

Alan nodded. "Yeah. I get that. But looking back in the past and wondering about what-if situations can be dangerous. The only path is forward. I think you're making the right decision here."

Clanny nodded.

"Thanks," she said with another small sigh. "I... I feel bad for just kind of... dumping that on you."

"No need. Like I said, I don't mind listening. I'll always be a lending ear for you. Don't feel bad about it," he said with a smile.

"Yeah! I love hearing from Clanny, even though I can't understand her right now!" Shrimp said brightly, making do from half the conversation.

"Even Shrimp agrees with me," Alan said with a little laugh.

Clanny laughed at that. "Thank you, Shrimpy," she said, reaching over and patting Shrimp's head. The cat purred warmly.

There was a small pause, before Clanny turned her attention away from Shrimp to Alan.

"So... is there something going on with you and Shane?" she asked softly. "I guess... I don't know, it always seemed like you two really liked each other. Is it not like that?"

Alan was quiet again, trying to gather his thoughts. He didn't mean to keep Clanny in the dark with his prolonged silence, but he really just... needed time to think.

"Sorry," he quickly said when he saw that she was about to open her mouth to speak again. "I don't mind answering. I just need time to think."

"'S'all good," Clanny said softly with a small, patient smile.

It would be easy to say some vague answer and assurance that everything was fine, but Clanny had been so open and genuine with him so far. She deserved the same treatment.

Clanny had talked about a subject that was difficult for her, and even though she apologized for bringing it up, Alan was grateful for her. He was grateful for her thoughtfulness to consider how a difficult subject may impact him, and he was grateful for how compassionate and in-tune she was with her emotions. She was true to herself, and Alan admired her for it.

He wanted to tell her this, of course, but he would rather wait until it was the right time. Right now, what she needed was for someone to be true to her, too. And Alan was more than happy to give that to her.

She deserved it.

"I do like Shane," he finally said, focused on the vaguely misty path ahead as he carefully considered each word. "But I also like you, and Hild, and Lyall, and... a lot of other people, really. Though I think, with Shane, it's... different. There's a quiet spark when we speak, and I think it goes both ways. If the circumstances were any different-- if we met at a different time, at a different place, and were free to be ourselves in peace-- then perhaps we would fall into a connection that wasn't so messy or complex. It would just be. But..."

Alan held Shrimp a little tighter, willing himself to not feel as heavy as his heart did right now. He didn't want to mourn what was or what could be. He wanted to be present here in the now, with Clanny.

"Life isn't so simple sometimes," he went on with a sad smile, rubbing his thumb against Shrimp's back. "But that's alright. Life being imperfect, complex, and messy is what makes it beautiful. Even if it's hard, I'd rather live in an imperfect real world than a fake fantasy world where everything was perfect. I think the circumstances Shane and I are in has put us at a disadvantage, but I believe in hope. I know things can get better, especially if we both want what's best for each other. So I'll keep trying, even if it's difficult, and even if I don't find this pumpkin. That's all I can do, after all. And I'd much rather fall down than give up and never try at all."

Alan paused, gaze settling back on Clanny as he weakly chuckled, straightening up.

"Well, I hope that made sense. If not, then it's my turn to apologize for dumping that on you," he said softly.

Clanny smiled softly. "You made plenty of sense," she said. "I think I get what you're talking about. If you two would have been able to meet in normal life, without all the theatrics of being on a TV show, things could be so much less complicated. It just adds a whole 'nother layer knowing the whole world is watching. Especially for Shane. It's no wonder things are weird... it feels like there's less freedom to be messy when you've got the whole world evaluating your decisions in the background."

God, Alan hardly even thought about that. He was vaguely aware of how he had to be careful of what he talked about with Shane out loud in public-- and now was no exception, although he didn't feel like he should be hiding anything right now.

But it was different for Shane. Alan had to be mindful of that. Even more mindful.

Clanny paused to let out a small, sad sigh.

"I'm sorry it's been hard, though," she said quietly. "It sounds like... I don't know. Right person, wrong time?"

"Yeah," Alan said with a soft sigh. "Maybe. If fate truly doesn't exist, then I wonder what the point of it all is. Why does the concept of right person, wrong time exist, if you can seize the day and reach for what you want? Especially when they're right there."

"Just because people drift out of your circle for a time doesn't mean they'll never drift back into it," Clanny said, looking over to him with a gentle smile and a spark of hope. "It might not work out right here and now, but... you can always keep the door open, you know? Like, 'Hey, maybe this won't work right now, but I still really care about you. Would you want to try again in a few months after this whole DMV fiasco is over and we have time to be more ourselves?' You know, that kind of thing."

Clanny shrugged slightly.

"I mean, it's just a suggestion," she said. "But with this kind of thing - I don't think you have to force a 'fix' right now. It's okay to leave space to breathe too. Sometimes that helps more than hammering everything out right away. Especially if you feel like the timing's not right."

It was good advice. One that he had to reflect upon. Alan appreciated it, though.

"That's true," he said with an appreciative smile. "It doesn't hurt to bring up. Realistically, I don't really know what life looks like for all of us when we go home. After all, Shane is an Heir who lives on the other side of the world from me."

"He may be an Heir," Clanny said. "But phones and planes still exist. You can still contact each other. If you guys still feel the spark in a few months and want to try again, if you really want to make it work I'm sure you can. Heck, if you need some cash just to fly out to visit him, I'll personally donate to the trip. I think it's worth it. I'd like to think we can all keep in touch after this."

Alan smiled at her, basking in the hope she radiated. It was contagious. She really was a ray of sunshine.

"Can we stay in touch, too?" he asked.

"Dude, of course!" Clanny said, smile brightening. She lightly elbowed his side and winked. "Psh. I thought it was a given."

"I just wanted to make sure," he said with a little laugh, elbowing her back.

"No, that's good," Clanny said, still smiling. "Clear communication is good."

"And so I would like to clearly communicate: I really appreciate you listening and giving thoughtful advice, Clanny," Alan said sincerely. "It means a lot to me. You're always so open, sincere, and genuine. I admire that about you. You have a radiant, grounding soul, and I won't take that for granted. You deserve someone to listen and be there for you, too."

Clanny's expression softened, and without her saying a word, he could see that she gratefully took his words to heart.

Maybe that was what she needed. Someone to clearly communicate to her how much of a beautiful, impactful person she really was.

"Thanks, Alan," she said. "You've got a way of saying things that's so... hah. I feel like I'm in a movie, sometimes. It's a gift, though. You're good at putting things into words. Thanks for always being so encouraging. You're really good at that; seeing the good in people and calling it out."

Alan smiled, blowing out a huff of air. "Well," he said brightly, "then it appears we make a good team. Sometimes everything is dark, and it's hard for me to see others. But you're a ray of sunshine, casting light when the uncertain." He shrugged. "Or something like that. I should work more on my cliche movie analogies."

Clanny laughed at that.

"Hey, with this new firepower, I can be a literal ray of sunshine," she said, waggling her fingers. "But uh... I probably shouldn't. Last time I tried to make a small flame I way over-did it and made a huge fireball."

Alan widened his eyes, surprised. "A fireball?"

"It wasn't on purpose!" Clanny said with a small laugh, raising her hands defensively. "I was just trying to follow instructions. A sign said to burn a bush to get through. And I did! Just uh... a little too much, haha."

Alan couldn't help but sputter out a laugh, facepalming. "That sounds like a suspicious trap," he said through a smile, shaking his head and dropping his hand. "Maybe the bush was covered in gasoline?"

"I think we would've smelled that," Clanny said, rubbing her chin in thought. "But it all worked out. Kazimir got Clarity's magic - and oh my gosh, dude. You should've seen it. Kazimir's an insane elemental mage. He like, just got this power, and I saw him use it like a master. I don't know where he learned how to do that but that guy's like a sleeper build for real. Not physically, lol, but as far as magic goes. I definitely was pleasantly surprised and impressed. Also lowkey a little intimidated. I felt like such a novice. I'm just glad I didn't blow anyone's head off!"

Alan hummed, taking it all in. "How did it feel when you unleashed the fireball? Did you feel like a badass?"

Clanny snorted, smirking as she looked over at him. "Okay, maybe a little. I almost wish I could keep the magic longer to practice, but it's probably for the best. I'd also like to be able to hear animals, again, so."

"Maybe we'll all get our magic back eventually," Alan said with a smile, "but I hope you know that I'm going to keep checking in on you to see what butterflies are saying."

"Oh, dude, of course," Clanny said with a smile. "Please do. The creatures always have things to say, and so little people to listen."

Alan smiled brightly. "Then consider me another listener."
chaotic lazy
—Omni

the queen of memes
—yosh

secret supreme overlord of yws
—Atticus

saint carina, patron saint of rp
—SilverNight




User avatar
140 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 4430
Reviews: 140
Wed Jan 10, 2024 12:14 am
View Likes
SilverNight says...



Shane was more than happy to hate on pumpkins, although he had... no idea how to use the material this event had given him to do so.

If the DMV had seemed strange before, this labyrinth had proved them insane. Murderous pumpkins? Shane couldn't imagine being able to explain what had happened to anyone without sounding like he needed to go to an asylum. At least there were cameras here. He didn't have any superhuman senses, but he could already smell that lawsuit.

That hope was not enough to make anything else seem less bleak, though. He still felt shaky. The blood, dried on his skin, was starting to crack from his movement. And he couldn't shake the feeling that he looked like an extra from The Shuffling Unalive who had run off set.

He just had to get out of this alive. Which, despite the fear he'd had just a few minutes ago that he truly might die, was pretty much guaranteed to happen.

Maybe he should be the one walking in front.

James seemed happy to do it, however, and no threats had leapt out at them yet. Shane would take glances behind them, but nothing was coming that way either. It felt too good to be true that nothing would harm them, with over two hours left on the clock.

"Hear anything?" he whispered to James, just to make sure.

"Nothing close," James said. "Distant conversations and smells. Others in the maze."

A beat.

"Shrimp's still with Alan's group," James mentioned.

"Good," Shane murmured quietly.

All he really wanted was to hug Shrimp. He'd be worried out of his mind if his cat had been through everything with them, but he just wanted to give him a hug. At least he could trust that he was being cared for.

They continued to walk in silence for a bit. James looked a little distracted, and his eyes unfocused, but he spoke up eventually, still keeping his head on a constant rotation, scanning the area.

"Not that I think it's incredibly relevant," he qualified. "But the monster mentioned that -- one of the puppets singing. The one that wasn't based on Stravos -- looked like him."

Shane looked up, frowning.

"I worry it's foreshadowing," James murmured softly.

"They seem to like that," Shane said quietly, thinking of the dolls.

That wasn't his first thought, though.

"So, one-- he really is a real person, with an appearance, and a human body," he started.

"Seems so," James answered.

"And two, the DMV knows what he looks like," Shane said, "so they must also know more about him."

"They had to have known," James murmured. "They brought Aaron here."

"Their almighty wisdom seems to know no bounds," Shane grumbled.

"I don't think I'd call it wisdom," James muttered.

That was true. It was much more of a stalkerish obsession. Shane knew how uncomfortable it was to receive that from one person, but it felt far more threatening coming from an organization as a whole.

They walked on for a few minutes longer, and Shane kept checking over his shoulder. Still nothing.

"Sounds like something electric is running," James murmured. "Like the hum of a TV."

Shane glanced at him. "Aren't those pretty quiet? Does that mean it's close?"

"My ears are really sensitive," James said. "But... yes. It sounds close."

"Guess we've got a new challenge on our hands," Shane said quietly.

At least the TV couldn't hurt them. Probably.

James nodded solemnly, not looking any more put at peace by the lack of noise or fanfare. He glanced down at Eve - something he was doing periodically - looking just as worried but determined as he had this whole time.

"There it is," James said, eyes locking onto a circular opening in the hedge wall, leading into a room with a giant, movie-theatre like screen and a projector. There were three movie-theatre chairs in a row, their silhouettes framed by the white screen on display, humming in wait.

"Probably for us to sit in," Shane said quietly.

Not that he really wanted to.

They passed under the arched hedge, and James led them to the chairs, looking hesitant as his eyes darted around the otherwise empty room. He hesitated before he carefully set Eve down first in the chair on the end, then slowly lowered himself down onto the one in the middle.

Nothing happened yet.

Well. Time for Shane to do the same.

With the same caution as James, he sat down in the last chair. Once he had, the screen flickered to life. It showed a video of Mireya, filming herself from what looked like her own phone, selfie-style.

"Hello boys!" Mireya said, smiling brightly at the camera. "Congratulations on surviving your first three trials. I know you've been through a lot so this challenge is way more laid back! It's just a true/false quiz! We're going to play a few clips for you and you have to decide unanimously if you think that moment really happened or if it's fabricated and not real. Isn't it neat what AI can do?"

Shane exchanged a quick glance with James. This did not seem... laid back. Not when they'd seen what this maze had to offer.

"There will be a tally keeping track of how much you get wrong or right," Mireya continued. "Your only hint is that there are as many false ones as true ones. You'll see every clip play once before we play them again, where you'll have to guess. Nothing but fun!" She paused. "Although, try not to get three wrong, though... three strikes, and it's not all fun. Best of luck!"

A set of TV remotes suddenly appeared on their armrests, and the screen changed to a game setup, with a play button that read BEGIN?

James slowly turned to look at Shane.

"Why do I feel like we're about to see things we wish we'd never seen?" he asked flatly.

"I feel that way too," Shane said, with a hint of dread. "At least half won't be real."

James sighed. "At least," he murmured, picking up the remote with visible apprehension. "...Ready?" he asked.

Shane nodded, clutching his own remote tightly. "Ready."

James pressed the start button. The screen activated, immediately playing a video of Hendrik and Alex, where both of them appeared to be heavily drunk in the maze, standing in front of a huge jar full of clear liquid. Shane squinted at it. Water? But if it was, why were they both drunk? Hendrik didn't have his powers-- oh. Must have been vodka. Alex was laughing heartily, his fingers on Hendrik's arm.

"You, Hendrik, are quite the experience," Alex said, while still laughing.

James was already facepalming five seconds into the clip. Shane was about to join him when without warning, Alex leaned in and--

"Oh my god," Shane muttered, rubbing his face and averting his eyes as Alex and Hendrik started to kiss hungrily on the screen. No way this was real. Right? That would've been mere hours ago. "You have to be kidding me."

James just deeply sighed.

The clip switched to another familiar setting-- the morning montage. Hild was sitting in the interviewed chair, looking quite unhappy to be there. Instead of Mel, Mireya was in the other chair. The question Hild had been asked was on the screen behind her: who's the hottest bachelor on the island?

Oh, Hild, I am so sorry, Shane thought.

Hild had folded her arms over her chest with a scowl, her face red. "If we were to consider the golden ratio--"

Mireya suppressed a laugh here. Hild pinched the bridge of her nose, looking annoyed.

"--what makes one's face the most visually pleasing, purely mathematically..." She tiredly pinched the bridge of her nose. "That would objectively be Constantine. Or Connie, I believe is what he normally goes by."

"Ah, I see it. Is that math's opinion, or yours, though? I felt like I got a calculator to answer the question for me." Mireya grinned curiously.

Hild narrowed her eyes at her. "...No one on the island can view this, correct?"

"Correct," Mireya said.

Shane glanced at James, rolling his eyes as if to say, Apparently not. James's face was full of dread.

Hild paused for a while. "Per my personal perference," she whispered, "James."

Oh. God. They would really show James this, real or not? Shane glanced over at James again. His face was buried in his hands.

"It could be..." Shane started half-heartedly, before covering his mouth, shaking his head. There was no good way to spin this clip.

James just shook his head, mournfully looking through his hands back at the screen with reluctance.

Mercifully, the screen moved on, but Shane wasn't relieved for long. The video turned to a clip of the beach outside their cabin, and Shane spotted himself on the balcony, book in hand, half-reading it, half-looking up at the ocean view. Okay. He'd done this a couple times. Maybe this would be a truth--

The camera panned away to reveal Hendrik at his own balcony, holding a spyglass and squinting with glee at Shane's balcony. When he noticed the camera filming him from below, he grunted in annoyance and made a shooing gesture.

James reached over and covered Shane's eyes. Shane started to wave his hand away, but he froze when Hendrik spoke again.

"Go away!" Hendrik boomed at the camera. "Can't a guy have some fun? See, I knew he had sex appeal!"

The clip ended there, pausing on Hendrik with his mouth still open. Shane stared at the screen, pushing James's hand away from his eyes and feeling uncomfortably sick while his cheeks burned.

What the hell?

"I..." Shane started, but he felt too ill to say more.

James muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse, pulling his hands away.

Shane fought to compose himself in time for the next video. This could be fake. It was a fifty percent chance. Which wasn't nearly high enough.

He recognized the next scene as well-- it was the poolside they'd gone to a few days before. The camera wasn't focused on the people in the pool, though-- but rather on Lyall, who Cyrin was guiding away. Shane remembered that, as well as the way Lyall was leaning on Cyrin with his whole weight. But the tender smiles they were exchanging weren't something he'd noticed.

So had it happened? The drinks he'd had might not have worn off by that point.

As the two of them got out of sight of the pool, the smiles on Lyall and Cyrin's faces remained firmly in place. There was a moment of extended eye contact while they walked-- one that felt just a little too long-- before Cyrin put their hand on Lyall's lower back. Lyall cast a glance over his shoulder with slightly narrowed eyes, scanning their surroundings with a hint of suspicion. He seemed satisfied with what he saw, though, because his expression turned tender when he looked back at Cyrin, and he leaned more firmly against their side.

The clip froze, and Shane stared at the screen, stupified.

"...I don't know about this one," he admitted slowly.

James was sitting, slouched forward, his fingers pressed against his forehead as he stared at the screen with a dead eyed glare.

"That didn't happen," he said firmly, but it sounded like he was responding to someone else, not Shane based on the heat behind it.

"What's he saying now?" Shane asked, sighing.

"Nothing worth repeating," James said lowly.

"Makes sense," Shane said quietly.

He was starting to view each new video with dread, and he tensed as the screen changed again. It showed Tula, which did not seem like good news.

It was Ooktoberfest, judging by the flower dress she was wearing. She was storming over the beach, kicking up sand with each stomp. There was a disgusted expression on her face, and Shane tried to think back to the times he'd seen her that day. Hadn't she been coming and going?

James visibly shrunk back in his seat, like he, too, was remembering that day.

Tula marched up to Clandestine, who was drinking beer at the bar, and stood firmly in front of her, fire in her eyes.

"Clandestine," she snapped.

"What's up?" Clanny asked, turning to face her.

"Kiss me," Tula demanded.

Shane leaned back in his seat with wide eyes, feeling like he'd just had five years knocked off his lifespan.

Clanny looked confused, and as he was silently pleading don't do it, don't do it, her expression brightened with a smile.

"Okay!" she said, setting down her beer stein.

James rubbed his eyes, looking away. Shane decided to do the same, a moment too late, because he still caught Tula lunging in as he turned his head away.

He willed himself not to think about it in those few mortifying seconds. Then--

"Ew!" Tula snarled, and as Shane looked back in shock, he saw her leaning away with a disgusted expression.

"Are you okay?" Clandestine asked, but Tula was already marching away, her lip curled. The video froze there.

Shane could only stare in outrage for a few moments, half-standing up out of his chair. What kind of audacity and rudeness? Even from Tula, that was awful.

"Unfortunately I believe that one to be true," James muttered. He was still crouched over in his chair, as if pained.

"Keeping that in mind," Shane muttered.

The video changed to a split screen, where Mireya took up one side of the screen, back at the montage studio. On the other side was Connie, standing in the maze, holding up a pumpkin. Robin was in the background, peering in curiously. Shane stared at the pumpkin, recognizing the familiar carving in a sort of... uwu face.

"Is that..." he started, but he didn't need to finish it.

That was the pumpkin that nearly killed him.

"Hi, Connie!" Mireya said, with a diplomatic wave. "Sorry for the little required interview before you move on. First question, what are you doing?"

Connie was looking straight into the camera, completely stoic as he held the pumpkin. "Carving pumpkins," he said simply.

"Fun! Hopefully someone else will come along and appreciate the artwork," Mireya said, and Shane grimaced. "Okay, second and last question. No context offered. Which of your cabin mates is hotter?"

Shane made a choking sound in his throat.

Connie didn't look away from the camera, his brows slightly pinching inwards. It seemed he needed a few seconds to think. Into the camera.

"James," he answered simply again.

James was once again hiding his face in his hands.

"Oh! Why's that?" Mireya asked.

"Was that not the last question?" Connie asked, already sounding tired to be here.

"Second and a half," Mireya amended, "because it's a follow-up. Doesn't count as a third."

Connie frowned disapprovingly. But then went on to say, "You asked who had an appearance that was more provocative and sensual in nature. James has a much higher muscle mass, so he is the obvious choice."

Shane was relieved to hear it wasn't him, but he still had an uncomfortably squirmy feeling.

"Ah, not wrong," Mireya said agreeably. "Shane's more like a cute twig. Still a twig, though. Thanks for your answers!"

The video ended there. Shane closed his eyes and made a pained expression. So much for getting off the hook.

"Why do we live in a society...?" James muttered, not quite finishing his hypothetical question.

Shane decided right then it would be a bad idea to mention that he'd gotten the same question once too.

The next clip didn't look like it was from the show. It was a surveillance camera in some kitchen, judging by the angle it looked down from-- Bo's, possibly. But it was Dante in the frame.

The grounds manager moved along a counter, where food products were arranged, each labeled for the cabin they were going to be delivered to, presumably. Dante stopped in front of the food pile labeled "Bird Cabin", opening up a bag of toast. And then, with an unreadable expression, he reached for one of his rings and flipped the top off, revealing a tiny compartment inside. He spilled the contents-- a few drops of vaguely pink liquid-- over the bread, before recapping his ring and walking away.

Neither Shane nor James said anything for a few moments.

"That one must be fake," Shane said finally. "Dante wears the same eight rings. The one on that finger doesn't look that way, and none of the others do, either. That's before we get to the part where Dante seems like one of the only decent staff members."

But James said nothing. He only nodded faintly, looking distracted. Shane wasn't sure if it was the monster again, or he wasn't convinced. He hoped it was the former.

The next video was short. It was being filmed sneakily through the windows of Stravos's cabin, given how Shane could tell it was too small to be a full-sized one, from what he could see of the walls--

"Oh, do not look at the walls," he muttered, using a hand to cover about eighty-five percent of his vision to only see the people in the scene. God, he needed some bleach.

Aaron was there with Stravos, who was rushing back with a plate of... was that cheese? It was difficult to tell underneath the mold and... dead ants. Aaron stared at it with the same disgust Shane felt, but before Shane could even finish the thought that there was no way he'd go for it, Aaron muttered "(BLEEP) me," and shoved it into his mouth. Shane decided seeing even fifteen percent of this scene was too much and covered his face entirely.

"I understand him," James said, barely audible.

Shane wished he hadn't said that, but he kept that to himself.

He was almost glad when the next one played. This video was similar in that it also had Aaron-- and seemed to be filmed through a cabin window, which Shane didn't feel so great about-- but otherwise it bore no similarities. Aaron stood in front of a corkboard that looked like it belonged in a detective murder mystery movie. Usually, those had photos of suspects pinned up, complete with yarn woven through them, crime scene evidence, maps, and newspaper clippings. And while there were some of those things there, like chunks of printed text that seemed like they were from articles scattered about and the usual yarn tying everything together, the photos were of James. And Cyrin.

Shane squinted, trying to absorb everything on the screen before the clip ended. James's mugshot was there, as well as a few photos that looked like they were from around the time of his trial, based on what he remembered of it. Cyrin's photos were more varied: standing at a red carpet in a perfect suit, a cut-out magazine cover where they regally modeled for the camera, a photo of him triumphantly holding up a silver medal next to his brother's bronze. The articles were in too small print for Shane to read, besides assuming they were also about Cyrin and James, but the yarn all led back to a card in large text that read: HOSTS.

Shane shuddered, unable to keep from glancing at James out of the corner of his eye.

James's resting glare looked more severe now. There were daggers in his eyes as he stared at the screen.

"Red herring," he said without context. "The best lies are based in truth."

"You think something about this is true," Shane guessed slowly, "but that the clip itself is not?"

"Yes," James said quietly.

Shane wasn't sure what to say to that. He would've hoped it was false all around.

He had to brace himself when he saw Alan and Lyall on screen next. He'd been hoping this game of uncomfortable truths and falsehoods would leave Alan alone, but there was no hope for that when Lyall spoke in a melodramatic, languishing tone.

"Is there no hope for Alan Alvaro?" Lyall asked, with an amused grin. "No future where he might fall in love, grow old with his soulmate? Cruel, unforgiving world. If only there was someone out there for him!"

Shane sat back in his chair, deflating. Great. Great.

"Probably not," Alan sighed, leaning back dramatically on a picnic table. "Soulmates don't exist, and neither does true love."

Ouch. Shane recoiled a little, and he hoped James was watching the screen, not him.

Lyall's expression shifted slightly, losing its carefreeness. He let a moment pass before gently asking, "Then what are we to make of Shane Hawking?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Shane needed to evaporate right this moment.

"Cover your ears if you need to," James said. "I'll watch."

But Shane couldn't. He couldn't cover his eyes either. And so he caught everything about the way Alan groaned and covered his face when he heard Shane's name.

"I slept with him," Alan said in a weak, low voice. "That doesn't make it true love."

Shane had never seriously considered murder, but he felt vaguely like stabbing whoever had decided to show this to him. And James had to be here, too. Brilliant. He couldn't feel his cheeks with how red they were.

"...Please don't feel like you have to say anything," James said softly.

Shane merely buried his face in his hands.

He almost missed the start of the next clip, and for a moment, he considered tuning out. But that wasn't much of an option right now.

Connie and Maeve were enjoying a civilized glass of wine on what appeared to be the balcony of the mansion. Connie looked thoroughly bored, more interested in the view than in Maeve. They still appeared to be in conversation, even if it was mostly driven by Maeve.

"But you will get Hawking to vote yes on that contract?" Maeve pressed. "We're counting on you. And of course, your country is too." She smiled innocently, swirling her wine glass in front of her. "I know we'd make a good team."

"I'll get him to sign it," Connie said firmly after taking a sip of the wine. "You have my word."

"False," James muttered immediately the moment the screen blacked.

Shane nodded weakly. "Maeve wouldn't need assurances on what will or won't happen," he murmured.

Even so, unease settled over him.

The scene changed, this time to a different part of the mansion. It was evening and outside, with Eve and Oliver sitting on a bench, absently watching a fountain. Eve had worn that dress this week, and Shane thought back to when. It was the day they'd discovered the bugs-- was this meant to be when she'd left?

"I hate not knowing what happens next," Eve murmured, staring cooly over the fountain.

"I know," Oliver said gently. "But you're always welcome back inside if you're that worried."

"It's not that simple," Eve protested after a hesitation.

"When is it ever?" Oliver shot back.

Eve was quiet, and the two of them stared over the running fountain. Oliver placed an arm around her shoulders, and Eve perched her own head on his shoulder. An alluring peace fell over them.

"I'm sorry for everything," Eve whispered quietly.

"Already forgiven. You know I'm always here for you," Oliver said gently, giving her a gentle kiss on her forehead. The video paused here.

There was an awkward beat of silence. Shane couldn't help but glance at Eve, who thankfully didn't have to be awake for this.

"False," James murmured again, sounding tired. As of the last three clips, he'd stopped visibly reacting, and instead just kept his glare locked onto the screen.

"Right," Shane said quietly, not asking for evidence.

How much more of this did they have left? They'd done a dozen of these.

It apparently wasn't the last, as the screen played a new video of Ooktoberfest. It was of Hild and Alex at the bar, having a conversation, where Hild seemed... a little out of it.

"It's Ooktober, things are crazy, and I can't even get drunk," Alex complained.

"Well," Hild said, spinning around in her seat to stand up, "let's see if I can."

"Are you sure that's a good idea with everything going on?" Alex asked, standing. They said no matter what you drink you'll have the same effect. We don't know if that means if you drink more that it'll get worse or not."

To Shane's surprise, Hild leaned forward, giving Alex's lederhosen a suggestive looking tug.

"Well, we need more data for a sure conclusion, of course," she mused.

Alex looked surprised for a few moments, hesitating, then smiling slightly.

"Alright. Lead the way," he said with a laugh.

The scene froze there.

"...Could be true," Shane suggested, although maybe he was saying this because it was the least terrible of them so far.

"It's believable," James agreed.

The clip changed once more to an Ooktoberfest scene, this time with... Alex and Alan. The two of them weren't at the party, though. Instead, they seemed to be behind Alex's cabin, where Alan was carefully looking over his shoulder from time to time.

"Here we are. Privacy," Alan emphasized with a smile and shake of his head. "I take it we're outside to admire the beach."

"I was thinking of admiring something else, actually," Alex said smoothly, leaning in towards Alan with one shoulder leaning against the cabin wall.

Shane frowned, filled with an inexplicable bad feeling. He felt like he should call out a warning, but he didn't know what to warn of. His heart felt too loud.

Alan mirrored his body language, facing him with his shoulder against the cabin as well. His smile grew as he leaned his head against the cabin. "Too late. I'm already admiring you," he said softly, getting lost in his eyes.

Alex smiled faintly in turn, gently reaching up to caress the side of Alan's face, leaning in a little more.

"It's mutual," Alex said like a sultry invitation.

"I know," Alan said, unmoving except for the smile reaching his eyes. "But I want to know everything about you first. I want to explore you in every way possible."

His hand reached up, pushing his hair back with his fingers. "Mind," Alan whispered, then slid his hand down, fingertips brushing against his skin until it reached the left side of Alex's heart. "Soul." His hand slid back up to his face, thumb caressing the side of his lips. "And body."

Shane stared in horror, feeling like the image had frozen here. But it hadn't. Alan had ran his fingers through his hair. Alan had rested his hand over his heart. Alan had grazed his lips with his thumb. And to see it from the outside felt so, so--

James got up from his seat, throwing his hands up in the air. He started walking away to the corner of the room, turning away. But Shane couldn't.

Meanwhile, the scene played on.

"I know where I'd like to start," Alex whispered, closing the distance between his and Alan's lips with a hungry passion.

"And I know where I'd like to end," Alan whispered back, sliding his hand down Alex's arm until he found his hand, intertwining their fingers.

Alan leaned in, and the two of them kissed with brazen passion, bodies wrapped up in one another.

Then it was over.

Shane couldn't look at James, wherever he was standing. All he could think about was how the core of his entire being was willing this to be false.

It had to be. It had to.

Finally, the screen faded not to another clip, but to a menu. As if it were a movie menu of different scenes, or different episodes, a sceenshot of each clip showed up, each with a hedge-like frame. Under each clip was a number, from 1-14. The remote between Shane and James's former seat lit up, and instructions hovered over the screen for a moment in a banner: "Select a Clip to see again or to cast your vote."

Gameshow music started playing now that the menu was up.

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DykZEOV5wD4 [/media]


Above the clips was a timer counting down, starting at 15:00. They had 15 minutes to decide what was true and false.

James still stood in the corner with his head hanging low, forehead now leaning against the hedge wall.

Shane took a few moments to break the silence.

"We're guessing that one as false," he said firmly.

"Yes," James agreed, finally turning around and shuffling reluctantly back to his seat, which he sunk back down into. He let out a long sigh before he reached for the remote, then glanced at Shane.

"I don't want to see any of those again," he said. "Let's just vote."

"Yes," Shane muttered, selecting the latest clip and pressing FALSE without replaying.

James took the remote in turn and began selecting answers, which showed up over the screencaps in red or green.

James selected: TRUE for the scene with Stravos feeding Aaron moldy cheese, Tula kissing Clanny, and Hild and Alex getting drinks. He selected FALSE for the scene with Eve and Oliver, Dante slipping poison into their food, Lyall at the pool with Cyrin, Aaron's display board, and Connie's meeting with Maeve.

That left five.

"We got the hint that the true and false ones were in even amounts," Shane said slowly. "So that means four more are true, if this is accurate."

James nodded.

"And one more false," James said.

"I wish all of them were," Shane muttered.

"The interview with Connie," James said. "The background. It looked like it was taken during this competition, but there's nothing about his behavior that seems out of character."

"Right," Shane said quietly. "And while it's a strange place and time for the interview, I could see Mireya going for it, if she wanted us to see it."

"They've asked me worse questions on their morning show," James muttered. "I wouldn't put it past them."

Yet again, Shane said nothing about how he'd been asked this.

"I'm putting that one as true," James muttered, selecting the green button.

That left a three-one split.

"The... scene with Hendrik and Alex drunk," James said with a tired reluctance.

"It's... believable," Shane said slowly. "It wasn't on my maze bingo, but it's not totally surprising."

"True," James muttered, like he already didn't want to talk about it anymore. He made the selection.

They were starting to narrow it down. Shane hesitated before his next guess.

"The one with Alan and Lyall," he said quietly. "I think it's... true."

It hurt. But that didn't mean it wasn't surprising. And if it was most likely that one of the clips of Alan was true, one was false, he needed this one to be the true one.

James nodded in reply. "Alright," he said, selecting: True.

"That leaves two more left," James said. "One truth, one falsehood."

Shane stared blankly at the screen for a few moments.

"How much... faith do we have in Hendrik?" he asked quietly.

James looked deeply distressed at the question, and he held his hand over the lower half of his face, his brows knitting together tightly.

"With what we have left," James said. "I think it's more likely that Hild's interview was genuine -- only because I imagine anyone who's been interviewed in that setting has been asked questions they'd never want to answer. So I'm inclined to think her response is real. Hendrik, I'd like to have more faith in him. However raunchy he can be, I do think he has enough respect for others to not stoop to spying. He'd just... watch TV instead."

Shane hoped that was true, as awkward as this meant it was for James.

"Right," he said quietly. "We can go with that, then."

Nodding, James made the last two selections. And then the screen made a dinging noise, and the gameshow music finally stopped.

100% CORRECT!
YOU KNOW TOO MUCH!


Shane let out a deep breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, sinking deep into his chair and covering his face with his hands. He felt like he did know too much now. He'd seen things he could've gone perfectly well without seeing. But at least the things he'd most needed to have disproven were false.
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni

"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace

"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter

silver (she/they)




User avatar
176 Reviews
Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 4030
Reviews: 176
Wed Jan 10, 2024 12:14 am
View Likes
soundofmind says...



The camera zooms into Tula berating Alex. Ah, wait a moment. We should rewind.

Bzzzt! The footage was moving at 10X the speed backwards, slowing to a stop when Alex threw his hands up in the air in frustration from Hendrik being drunk, loud, and ghostly, because he lost him again.

Alex stared into the maze with a look of irritation. Finally, he sighed and said: "Alright! That's it. I have no idea where you are, but don't die! I'm going to keep going."

The footage then scrubbed forward quickly at 10X speed again, slowing to a stop when Alex and Tula stood face-to-face in the thick of the fog.

"Oh," Tula said with a snarl, visibly disappointed. "It's you."

Alex raised a brow and tilted his head with a small huff of a laugh, unimpressed by her greeting.

"Lovely to see you too, Tula," he drawled. "Did you get lost?"

"Let's go. We can find this pumpkin," Tula said curtly instead, marching forward where the new path laid away from the fog.

Behind her, Alex unknowingly cast the camera a small eyeroll, but followed anyway.

Puzzle 1!


The dynamic duo had entered a bogeyman room! Oh no, the creepy ghastly monster was running after them!

Image


But strangely, the two of them were unflinching. In unison, they both pulled out knives from a hidden sheath on their belt, throwing them with alarming speed. Alex threw four knives, and Tula threw two. His knives hit the bogeyman's two eyes, mouth, and the space where its nose would be. Tula's knives hit at random spaces on its squishy chest.

The creature screeched loudly into the night, convulsing until it flopped to the ground, sand coming out of its new stabbed crevices. It seemed that piercing it caused the magic enchantment to turn the bogeyman into a giant, freaky sand bag.

"Nice aim," Tula said, looking over at him impressed. She pulled out her new knives from the pile of sand.

"Not bad yourself," Alex complimented with a shift of his shoulders.

"Let's get our knives and proceed. Keep a lookout for other monsters," Tula said, placing her knives back on the sheath on her belt.

"Anything you say, darling," Alex replied, grabbing his knife in return.

She cast him a flat look, but ignored him and led the way to the next puzzle room.

Puzzle 2!


This time, their path was interrupted by thin, red, lazer-like lines cutting through their walkway. The walkway was long, and the lazers overlapped, angling up and down and creating narrow openings to crawl and pass through. Just above the lazers were giant buckets hanging over them, filled with something stinky, black and bubbling. It was implied that if the lazers were touched, that the bubbling fluid would dump down on them.

After a shared glance and nod, Alex and Tula secured their belongings and Tula went first, bending backwards through the lazers. It took them a few tense minutes to weave their way through, but when they finally made it to the other side, they both let out a breath of relief.

Onward once more.

Puzzle 3!


The next puzzle room was a challenge of memory and teamwork. There were two buttons on both sides of the room, divided by a barrier. One person pressed the button, reading out the complex pattern. The other person was to listen to what they said, completing the pattern through the number of choices given. Problem was, the pattern changed every ten seconds, so if they were not communicating and working quickly, they would both fall into the trapdoor.

That was right. The floor was a giant trapdoor. Fail, and who knows what would happen?

But did they fail? Nooooooo.

Alex was reading the patterns, carefully and quickly reading the wall of text. Tula, meanwhile was copying what he said with an insane amount of detail, asking little questions since she was on the same wavelength.

They did this with extreme focus, passing with 100% accuracy.

On to the next room.

Puzzle 4!


The scene cut to Tula stepping through an illusory wall. Just behind her, Alex ran into the same wall, apparently now solid. The two of them whipped around in confusion, staring at the hedge in accusation for a moment before Alex called over to the wall.

"You still there?" he asked.

"Still here," Tula said. "If we can hear each other, this must be a puzzle. We're not meant to be separated."

"Can you pass through the wall again, or is it solid for you now?" Alex asked.

Tula rustled the the wall in front of her, but the footage made it look like she was holding on to air. Still, a rustling sound was heard, like she was actually shaking part of the hedge.

"There's a wall separating us. Do you not see it?" she asked.

"I see it too," Alex said. "But I saw you go through it. Seems we can't trust our eyes."

Tula was silent for a moment. "Whose magic do you have?"

Alex hummed. "You know... I wasn't sure, but, it's possible I have yours."

"It's possible we have each other's magic," she murmured, then sighed. "You know what this means."

"Tula, would you allow me to be your guide?" Alex asked sweetly with a devilish smile.

Tula groaned, rubbing her face in frustration. "Don't do anything stupid," she hissed.

"Me? Stupid? I'm offended you'd even think so," he said. And after he laid a hand on the illusory wall, he tilted his head, his gaze going a bit vacant for a moment before it appeared he had entered through Tula's eyes. "Let's see how this works."

And though Tula seemed to be irked about the whole situation, Alex proceeded to guide Tula through the maze. The camera made it clear that the walls around Tula were not to be trusted, and it was apparent that the true path could only be seen via Alex seeing through Tula's vision. After several instructions and lefts and rights, Tula finally found her way back to Alex, and they reunited onto the real path once more.

Off to the races!

Puzzle 5!


The two of them entered a room with a bed and a lock with alphanumeric buttons. Alex cast Tula a brief, teasing, suggestive look, but said nothing.

She scrunched her face at him. "Please," she said with a roll of her eyes. "As if. This is another puzzle room, Sandman."

"Oh, I know," Alex said, raising his hands. "I didn't say anything."

"No. Your face did," she said dismissively, walking to the lock and inspecting it.

"Uh-huh," Alex said, running over to the bed and jumping onto it. It bounced beneath him as he landed on his side, one hand on his hip and the other propping up his head.

"If you have my magic, I may have yours," Tula said as she brushed her fingers on top of all the buttons, in thought.

"I've already done the math, sweetie," Alex said. "I believe this test wants you to put me to sleep."

She cast him a flat look. "Go to sleep, then. Don't expect me to sing you a lullaby."

"I could, but it might take me too long, and by then, someone else would've found the pumpkin we so desire," Alex said. "I think this might require you to use your newly gifted powers, Tula."

A beat, as Alex smirked wide.

"Surprise, surprise. I can force people to fall asleep at will," Alex said. "But for just tonight - you have that ability."

If Tula was surprised, she didn't show it. She tilted her head at him, slightly narrowing her eyes. "How do I it?"

"You're going to hate this, but it does require touch," Alex said. "But you're familiar with how powers work. You will it to happen. It may take you a moment to acquaint yourself with the feeling, though."

Eyes intensely on him the entire time, she slinked over to the end of the giant bed, crawling on all fours and drawing closer, a sinister smile on her face. The camera had to zoom away as she forcefully shoved him on his back to crawl on top of him, sitting on his waist with her legs folded behind her.

"Go to sleep," she ordered coldly, hand firmly placed against his chest as she stared him down.

Alex raised his brows for a moment, but his face quickly began to relax, and his eyelids fluttered shut. Just like that, he was out.

The footage stopped here... then bzzzt! Resume!

To Tula slapping Alex with full force, still on top of him. Alex woke up with a start, flinching as his face flew to the side.

"Bleep!" he cursed. "That wasn't necessary."

"Wake up!" she hissed, rolling off of him, as she got off the bed. "I have to password."

Rolling his eyes once more, Alex got up, rubbing the side of his face as he got to his feet, following her. Tula was quick to go to the lock, punching in a series of numbers.

"You dreamed of pie," she said simply.

Alex stared at the back of her head.

"Yeah," he said flatly. "And I assume you have the ten numbers of 'pi' memorized."

Tula stopped after the third number, even though there were seven more numbers to punch. She slowly turned to him, silent. Alex raised a brow, and then with something that looked like a real, somewhat endeared grin, he came over and reached over her hand.

He punched in the numbers effortlessly, like he didn't even have to think about it. Then the lock beeped, and the door opened.

Tula was observing him the whole time with a mildly impressed expression, but otherwise didn't say anything as the hedges then opened up like a gate. Whatever comment she was holding back was no longer important since the hedges revealed a caged golden pumpkin in a room full of gold riches.

Slowly, Tula turned back to him, grinning. Alex grinned in return.

They were so close to winning, now.
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.
- Dr. Mind




User avatar
140 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 4430
Reviews: 140
Wed Jan 10, 2024 2:00 am
View Likes
SilverNight says...



phpBB [media]


Cyrin willed himself not to flinch at the next snap of the wolf's jaws, as the mirror swiveled around to block Lyall from view. Good. He'd be safest there.

There was too much to think about already, without Lyall trying to insert himself into combat. He was a single moment of distraction away from losing a finger, or even a hand, and he'd had no time to think about this. Certainly not think about who this was he was wrestling, with Robin's power. At the moment, he didn't care to know. Whichever contestant he had in a headlock was trying to hurt Lyall, and now trying to hurt him, and whoever that was was no friend of his.

Cyrin grunted as the wolf suddenly bucked, trying to throw them off, and they rolled, kicking at the wolf's hind legs so it wouldn't be able to get its foot on the ground and try to stand. The wolf had force, but so did they, and all they had to do was outlast it.

Casper laughed, slapping his knee in the reflection. "Ah, this is spectacular. Never would've taken you for a gladiator."

"Shut the (BLEEP) up," Cyrin snapped at him, gritting their teeth as the wolf growled and tried to bite at his arm, just inches from connecting. "You're not helping."

"Who said I was here to?" Casper asked, leaning back with a smirk. "Even if I wanted to, I'd soon find it pointless. The truth is, you're stuck in this maze until someone else gets that pumpkin, because it won't be you. There's no way out of this little situation you dove into. Unless an infectious wound counts as an outcome."

"Bullshit," Cyrin growled, using their other hand to shove the wolf's head away from their arm, which was getting dangerous within snapping distance. "There's always a way out."

Casper sighed. "As you're always so fond of saying. Should you survive, I'll see you soon."

"See me when--" Cyrin started to demand, but Casper abruptly vanished from the mirror, and now all he could see was himself, locked in a desperate fight with a wolf.

Well, he had to be right. He had no healing powers to get him out of this. So he needed another solution.

He grunted, tightening his squeeze around the wolf's neck. The wolf half-whined, half-growled, thrashing more. If he could hold on, he had a chance of outlasting it. He didn't want to strangle it, but if he could weaken it--

The wolf suddenly barked, finally getting its feet under itself and kicking at the ground, sending them both airborne for a moment. Still holding the wolf, Cyrin's back collided with a mirror.

Fuck.

He wheezed as the force of the impact knocked the air from his lungs for a moment, and it was only through sheer force of will that he managed to cling on, even as they crashed to the ground again. Something fizzled by the right side of his head, and Cyrin blinked, staring at the cracks in the glass that had formed on the collision.

It was a spark of light, flashing and flashing again, from between the shatter marks. And it looked a lot like magic.

Of course. These mirrors were magic. They could display enchanted illusions, but they also had to have portal magic, if it had separated him completely from Lyall and Alan by means greater than merely a physical wall.

Maybe they could...?

Cyrin didn't give any more time to the logistics of the spur of the moment plan. He squeezed as hard as he could for one, two, three four seconds...

When he got to eleven, the wolf let out a truly desperate sounding whine.

Cyrin let go. Stood. Ran.

They sprinted down the hallway of mirrors, nearly bumping into a refelction of their own before swerving through the first turn they could take. Behind them, they could hear the wolf regaining its balance, growling and getting to its feet. They didn't have long before it followed. He needed to be hidden by then.

Cyrin dove around turns, his heart thrumming in his chest, silently praying the wolf wasn't closer than he thought. They risked a few glances over their shoulder, and although they could tell the wolf was after them, following their scent, they never saw it. Finally, right around a corner, Cyrin screeched to a halt, holding their breath.

He heard the wolf's heavy steps as it bounded down the hallway, a growl in its throat. It came to a stop, and he saw it in a different reflection, jaw open to reveal its rotting teeth. He suppressed a shudder, trying not to think about those buried in his arm.

"Here!" Cyrin shouted, waving a hand around.

The wolf barked, ears perking up, and it dove down the hallway. With surprising force, it smashed into him--

Into his reflection.

The mirror shattered in an explosion of glass and light, the portal magic contained under its surface suddenly released in full. The wolf slumped on the ground, either unconscious or stunned. Regardless, it'd be there for a while. Cyrin didn't spare it another thought as he leapt into the light, not willing to risk waiting in case it vanished.

My cabin. My cabin. My cabin.

For a split second, blinded by light, floating in space, Cyrin didn't know where he was. If he was anywhere at all.

Then the feeling ended when he felt the hard surface of the porch, crashing into it as though he'd leapt at it from a few feet away.

Cyrin grunted as their side hit the ground first, and they crashed on their back. They heard without seeing the whoosh as the portal sealed up, leaving no access to where they'd been.

Slowly, feeling winded, he sat up. The maze loomed in the distance, its hedges barely lit by the timer that kept ticking down. The beach was silent in the night, free of contestants.

Cyrin could have smiled, if he'd had the energy for it. It didn't matter, though. The victory was still there.

Casper had been wrong. They'd gotten out.
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni

"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace

"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter

silver (she/they)




User avatar



Gender: None specified
Points: 350
Reviews: 1
Fri Jan 12, 2024 9:40 pm
View Likes
urbanhart says...



Biting out every curse known to modern man, Lyall pounded on the panel, demanding to be released.

Mostly, he was frustrated with himself at this point. If he'd been just a split-second faster, he might've been able to calm the wolf, and help Cyrin out of the maze. Which felt increasingly like a torture house catered specifically to distress his friend in every conceivable way possible.

But, noooooo. Now Lyall was stuck in this mirror prison, rendered utterly useless--

Wait!

Whipping around, Lyall tried peering out into the darkness. "Alvaro!" he called, trying his best to at least sound calm.

No response, aside from the echo of his own voice.

"Alan," he tried again, taking a cautious step away from the mirror, "for the love of all that is good and holy, please be nearby!"

Curses.

He'd simply have to... figure this out on his own. Again.

This was fine.

Hands held out to feel in front of him, Lyall slowly ventured further away from the sealed panel. Of all the times for his wish to not have his own magic to come true, the Fates chose now? When he actually needed it? Fucking typical.

At some point, he'd made his way to... another mirrored wall. That was it. Nose scrunched as he glared at his own reflection in the low light, he started shimmying sideways alongside it. Then froze, shoulders tensed when he heard tapping on glass ten paces away.

"Cyrin?" he called with creeping hope, quickly making his way to it.

Instead, he was. Unexpectedly met with Viktor's cheeky grin.

"Oof, my heart," Vik said, languishing against the glass with an arm dramatically held to his forehead. "My feelings... Do you not recognize your own family?"

Lyall drew back, unsure of how to proceed now.

This was merely a very convincing illusion. But... as a part of the maze, the illusion served some sort of purpose. Right?

As much as he wracked his brain for meaningful questions to ask the reflection, all Lyall could do was take in the sheer familiarity of his younger brother's playful presence. Letting his shoulders relax, he slowly sank into the way it made his heart ache with joy to see Vik's face up close again.

"Like a dagger to my heart!" Viktor went on mournfully. "Does it no longer mean anything, to have grown up alongside you? To have practically idolized you in youth--"

"You've just become a man," Lyall cut in, mustering a fond grin, "literally months ago. Practically still a youth."

Viktor beamed, encouraged with the acknowledgment. Then flopped to the ground as if to perish right before Lyall's eyes. "And the hits keep on coming!" he cried.

That got a genuine laugh out of Lyall. His amusement faded a little, though, as he remembered his and his friends' current-- albeit incredibly strange-- reality. He knelt down by the glass and gave it a small tap with his knuckles.

"Much as I'd love to indulge this game," he said gently, "I fear for Alan's and Cyrin's safety..."

That sobered Vik in an instant. He let his arm drop to his side to meet Lyall's worried gaze. "Right," he murmured. Pushing himself upright, he swept his wild hair back and out of his eyes. "But I think you're running outta time. The only way to get them out of here, is to just finish the game. Even though I know you wanted to do that together, with them."

Lyall sighed. Sadly, Vik was right. That seemed like his best shot at finding them again sooner, rather than later.

"Well, lucky for you, brother mine," Viktor said, his good cheer returning full-force, "I know a shortcut. Come on!"

And without further ado, the younger man jumped straight up to his feet and dashed several mirrors down.

Lyall blinked. Then, delayed, sprang into a sprint alongside him. "How do I know this isn't a misdirect?" he called warily after the reflection. Managing a lighter, more playful tone, he added, "A classic 'Vik Trick'?"

Viktor scoffed with offense, suddenly in the glass at Lyall's right side. "You truly think so little of me?"

Well, no. Lyall thought that little of the DMV.

The brief chase came to an abrupt end when Viktor easily slid to a stop. Lyall stumbled to a halt beside the mirror, leaning on the one beside it to catch his breath.

"Still not a cardio guy, eh?" Viktor teased.

Huffing and puffing, Lyall shot him an unappreciative look. His brother only laughed in response.

"Look," he eventually said, tone softening as he leaned a shoulder on the glass, "this is important to you, right? Helping your friends?"

"Well, of course," Lyall answered without hesitation. He stood straighter. "They're important to me."

Vik nodded with a grin. "Then I want to help. For realsies."

Lyall couldn't help but feel touched. He mustered a small, grateful smile in turn.

"The finish line's this way," Viktor said, waving for him to come closer.

"Which..." Hesitating, Lyall approached.

When Viktor didn't move, a sense of dread stirred in Lyall's gut.

"Come on," the younger Ashlund urged, sweeping both arms as if to usher Lyall... into the mirror? "Don't be shy! Victory awaits!" He snorted. "Or should we say, 'Vikt'--"

"No," Lyall declined pleasantly, "that's quite enough, thank you."

He stepped forward-- Then stepped back again. It was solid glass! And he was supposed to just... walk into it?

Feigning a long-suffering sigh, Viktor stood closer again. "Go like this," he said encouragingly, and pressed his hand to the surface between them.

With a hint of skepticism, Lyall slowly and wordlessly obeyed. Curiously, the glass didn't stop his hand, but rather allowed it to phase through where Viktor held up his own hand.

It was a... secret passage way, concealed with illusion magic? A portal?

"Yeah, that's it!" Viktor cheered, hopping aside.

Okay. Sure, this was happening. Certainly wasn't the strangest thing he'd seen on this island, come to think of it.

Lyall squared his shoulders, drew a steadying breath, and took the last few steps through the silver pane and into a new, inky black plane of existence. The kind of pitch dark that swirled and pulsated when one stared directly into it.

He really wished he had his magic back.

After a tense, quiet moment of wandering-- truly blind this time-- the nothingness either gave way beneath him, or there was some hidden gap he simply could not hope to catch. It felt like a rabbit hole that sent Lyall hurtling downward.

He'd like to note for the record that he, ever-poised, the epitome of grace, most certainly did not scream as he fell.

Eventually, after a short eternity of aimlessly yet stoically falling in a most-dignified fashion, the darkness spat him out. Lyall crashed onto a pile of shimmering, golden coins with colorful confetti flying around him. Dazed, he lied staring up at a new ceiling, glittering high overhead in the light reflecting off the mound of coins.

"Thanks for the forewarning, Vik," he wheezed.

The first thought that ran across his slow-processing mind was that he'd landed himself in some dragon's hoard somehow. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, wobbling as the coins shifted under his weight. Then tensed, legitimately expecting a gigantic fire drake to descend upon him for intruding.

"Who goes there?" a stern, feminine voice called coldly instead. It took a moment for Lyall to realize this was Tula, since she usually spoke with a breathy, higher-pitched voice.

"Looks like Mr. Ashlund," Alex said, more amicable.

Lyall let out a breath of relief. Just fellow people.

Though. His relief was short-lived, because the unfamiliar edge in Tula's tone made him rethink his original, admittedly half-formed conclusions about her.

The brief thought that she was pulling some long con made him wonder if this was in fact on par with an actual dragon encounter.

Lyall lifted both hands placatingly and flashed an easy smile as he managed to stand with the grace of a newborn lamb. "Indeed, tis I! Approaching peacefully, if I may." He pointed to Alexander. "Very astute, my good sir."

Lyall took in the room around him, immediately overwhelmed why the overwhelming shine of every glittering surface. It appeared that the whole room was, indeed, filled with gold - or at least, a counterfeit of it. Coins piled atop each other in a giant mound, leading up to an elevated cage at the top, where a large, golden pumpkin was kept locked in an iron cage. The walls around them were stripped of their usual hedge-like leaves and instead mimicked the walls of a cave, like they were indeed going for "dragon's hoard" for this room.

"Alex," Tula said tiredly as a warning, fiddling with the lock some more, very focused as she hardly gave him any attention.

She wasn't holding a key, nor did she wield any lockpicks. Perhaps the lock was a puzzle by itself, though Lyall didn't know what this could entail yet.

"Please take no offense," Alex said, pulling away from the lock to evidently leave it to Tula and talk to Lyall for her so she wasn't distracted. "But we've been laboring to break this thing open for quite some time. It's not personal that we'd rather not share this victory with a latecomer. So if you wouldn't mind... just..."

Alex waved his hand limply. "Waiting over there," he finished. "We'll be done soon."

Lyall glanced to the far corner where Alexander vaguely, maybe gestured off to. "I understand, of course," he said courteously. "T'would be a hard-earned victory, and I don't expect anything for nothing. That said..."

He took a few cautious steps forward, wobbling a bit to make it seem more like innocent unsteadiness rather than hesitance to approach. "...I'd like to offer my services. Something for... well, something."

Alex glanced at Tula with a sense of tense consideration.

"What did you have in mind?" Alex asked, leaning on the pumpkin's cage with his arm over the top.

"No," Tula said firmly, still focused on the lock.

For that one second, she reminded Lyall of his sister. Ugh.

"I'm just curious," Alex cooed, "Let's hear him out. What's the proposition, dearie?"

Tula let out an annoyed sigh, but continued to turn the knob on the lock, focused.

Okay. He might be able to work this angle with the Nye hunter, then.

"An open mind," Lyall said, grinning wider as he tipped an imaginary hat. "A kindred spirit, then. Much appreciated." He glanced at the lock in Tula's hands, still trying to gauge from this distance what kind it was.

"You said you've been at this for awhile, yes? Perhaps a fresh set of eyes, a new perspective, might do the situation some good?" He held out a hand as he took another few steps to further close the distance. "All I ask in return is for a small share in the prize."

Alex tilted his head, lips pursing a little as he seemed to think it over. Tula, however, just said: "No." Again.

"Fresh eyes," Alex hummed. "That would be helpful if we didn't already have the code worked out. It's merely tedious, now."

Lyall let his unacknowledged hand drop to his side, unsure if the hunter was bluffing or not.

"Ah, of course you have!" he relented, trying to figure out a way to get any closer without putting them anymore on edge than he already had.

Suddenly the lock snapped open, clicking in the air. "Got it!" Tula exclaimed, yanking the lock out of the socket.

There were now only three hinges keeping the cage closed, which Tula was already beginning to pry out.

"Looks like we're almost out of time, Lyall," Alex said with a carefree shrug. "Thanks for playing."

Shit.

Too late, Lyall realized talking was a stalling method on the hunter's part.

No time to be clever about this then. Too many things, both on the island and beyond, were flaming out to simply lose out on this opportunity.

The small distance Lyall covered put him close enough to jump the last few feet to the pumpkin's pedestal, where the two stood. Within charming distance.

However, his landing left much to be desired. Coins slipped out from under his shoes, and he gracelessly crashed at their feet with a yelp.

Before either could do more than stare at him, he shot both hands out to grab their ankles and said with haste and intent, "We'll share in the prize, I insist. Please and thank you."

What at first looked like two faces full of annoyance quickly turned to something far more agreeable. Tula's frown relaxed, and Alex offered Lyall a smile, leaning down to offer Lyall and hand to help him up.

"Why didn't you just say that the first time?" Alex asked with a smirk. "Welcome to victory."

Alex pulled Lyall to his feet and patted his back.

"Let's get this pumpkin out," Alex said. "Then we can go home."

"All together," Tula said, grabbing one end of the pumpkin. "We earned it."

The pumpkin was rather large, and it would probably take all three of them to haul it out, especially if it was gold.

Their newfound agreeable natures were... off-putting, to say the least. It felt mildly like grabbing the reins in the dreamscape and turning the tides in one's own favor with... physics-defying acts of heroism. Or something. Something bizarre and very much Not Real.

...And yet, Lyall didn't feel negatively impacted by the magic? So Maeve's promise was indeed in effect.

Alex began to help Tula in hauling out the pumpkin, looking to Lyall expectantly.

"Come on," Alex urged.

Right. Yes, he had a competition to...

For the upteenth time in his life, Lyall took hold of a prize he hadn't earned, and helped his new 'team mates' lift the metallic gourd.

When they hauled it out of the cage, and the gourd was finally free, the pumpkin suddenly began to glow. The golden color illuminated with sparkles on its surface, and the former heavy weight of it lifted, and the pumpkin began to float - levitating out of their hands into the sky above them.

Spinning over their heads, the pumpkin suddenly burst into an explosion of golden glitter, and music began to play overhead. The timer in the sky dimmed, and they could hear Mireya's voice sing out around them.

"The golden pumpkin has been found!" Mireya cheered. "Congratulations to Lyall Ashlund, Alexander Kingsman, and..." A drumroll sound followed her words. "Tula Nazar!"

Fireworks exploded in the sky with a loud boom. Lyall startled violently at the unexpected appearance of explosives, literally right over their heads.

"To you lucky three, you'll have your rewards in the morning. Congratulations, and thank you all for playing!"

Then, at the end of the golden-clad room, a doorway opened up with blinking lights lining the archway. Overhead the door, it read: "EXIT," and it was clear that the door actually opened back out to the beach. He could see the dim lights of their cabins in the distance, over the barrier of the jungle walkway in-between. Lyall blinked, unable to process, at their distant forms.

"Well, it's a relief it's over," Alex said with a small sigh, looking down at himself.

They were all now covered in glitter. Alex attempted to brush some of it off, but it did nothing.

"Could've done without the glitter, though," Alex said. "I'm going to find this everywhere for weeks."

Lyall tried not to tense at the hunter's voice.

How soon did people realize they'd been charmed after the fact? ...Did they ever?

How many people on the island could hear that final announcement? The thought that Alan and Cyrin might've heard...

Dammit, who was he kidding. Half the world had to have heard.

They'd understand, right? He couldn't just let an opportunity like that slip right through his fingers. He had no choice but to jump for it, if he wanted any of his friends to benefit from it.

"Let's go," Tula said as she headed for the exit, also attempting to brush the glitter out from her arm. When frowned and gave up with it didn't budge. "We'll get our prizes in the morning." She glanced over her shoulder. "Hurry up, boys. Aren't you dying to get out of here?"

"Don't have to tell me twice," Alex said, hurrying to follow behind her. "I've been in here far too long."

Alex waved for Lyall to follow along, and he and Tula hurried out the exit.

Delayed, Lyall quietly took unsteady steps over the piles of gold to drift behind the two at a short distance.

"Why did it have to sparkle?" Tula hissed with distaste as they went through the exit, angrily trying to claw away at the glimmer against her arms.

"Why must anything be the way it is?" Alex muttered beside her. "Glitter is the least of my worries at the moment. An annoying inconvenience."

Tula scoffed. "Don't act like you don't enjoy it."

"Listen," Alex replied. "I do enjoy glitter. In moderation. But this is just too much!"

"Mmhmm," Tula hummed, paying him no more mind as she led the way towards the cabins.

"The things the gods have saddled me with," Alexander muttered to himself, falling a few steps behind her.

"Leave me alone and bother Lyall instead," Tula said dismissively, frowning as she focused on the path ahead.

And at the suggestion, Alex glanced at Lyall over his shoulder, raising a brow.

"What's keeping you, slowpoke?" Alexander asked.

Lyall snapped back to full-focus and flashed a grin. "Likely a lack of sleep," he admitted easily. "Now that's it finally over, the effects are catching up to me."

There was a flicker of something... conflicted? In Alex's features. It was like he was concerned, but for a second there, knowing as well.

"Oh," Alex said. "I'm sorry you haven't been sleeping."

Hm. Odd thing to seem conflicted-knowing about.

That same uneasiness that Lyall felt, watching Alexander slide in close beside Hild earlier in the month, started to bubble up again.

"Not to worry," he offered with a light laugh, "I'll sleep off this night's events with hardly any trouble, I'm sure. I'm that exhausted."

Though, in order to try and sleep in any good conscience, he had to relocate his friends. Cyrin especially. The last he saw of the athlete, they were wrestling a wolf like some man of the wilderness, with the horrendous image of their brother looking on in cruel glee.

"Same," Alexander agreed. "I'm beat."

"Well, of course you are," Lyall said affably. "T'was a hard-won victory."

He couldn't shake the feeling that some sort of consequence was to follow shortly after, for essentially cheating.

For the sake of filling the silence, and to mitigate-- if only very slightly-- the appearance of merely using the two, he went on, "What challenges, praytell, did you overcome prior to the final puzzle?"

Alex slowed a tad, now matching his pace to Lyall so he could walk alongside him. Tula, however, hurried ahead, now leaving the two of them in the dust as she beelined for the cabin.

"Oh, quite a lot, actually," Alex answered. "Puzzles. Mission Improbable-like laser mazes. Things that required us to work like a team, you know."

Lyall watched as Tula hastened ahead. He stopped himself short of offering a praising 'worked like a charm', and... quickly thought better of that.

"Mission Improbable, you say?" he mused instead. "I can picture it, clear as day. Agility, resourcefulness..."

"Yes," Alex said. "We make a good team."

He looked over to Lyall with a small smirk, and reached over to nudge Lyall's side playfully.

"You too, I suppose," Alex teased.

Lyall mustered another grin, but couldn't think of a proper response that wasn't entirely dishonest.

"So," Alex said. "How'd our fearless leader make it to the pumpkin's hoarde anyway? You kind of popped out of nowhere."

This had to be the consequence Lyall feared earlier. The Fates were mocking him for not being able to score an honest win. Not in life, not in this island hell, not even in this tortuous maze game.

"It was a treacherous journey," he answered with a small bit of grandiosity. "Sphinxes, wolves, secret passages-- Your typical deadly maze trappings."

Alex hummed, raising a brow. "Deadly, huh? Is that so?"

Lyall allowed himself a slightly more sheepish grin. "Well, turned out the sphinx wasn't really 'deadly', but I didn't know that until after the fact."

Which reminded him.

He needed to find Alan, ensure that musician was not in fact gobbled up by yet another part of the maze before it all ended. Or, if he was, that he remained untraumatized by it all.

Moreover, he really needed to ensure Cyrin was okay. That wolf did not look well in the least.

Oh, gods, what if it had rabies? It looked so disease-ridden, it wouldn't surprise him if it did.

"Hm," Alex said. "They probably played up the stakes to make it dramatic for TV," Alex said. "But it's not like they'd actually hurt you."

"Right, of course not," Lyall answered. Admittedly, distracted as he scanned the figures of fellow contestants passing in the near distance.

Through the slowly-dissipating fog, he caught sight of a silhouette with familiar frizzy hair.

Lyall paused in his tracks. Then slowly began to back away.

"Oh, hey," Alex said, lifting a hand to wave at Hild, who was approaching at a rapid pace.

She was a fast walker as is, so it wasn't her pace that alarmed Lyall. It was the way she practically stared him down as marched determinedly up the hill their way. He had to physically fight the urge to try slipping away amidst the shadows and fog.

In the blink of an eye, she schooled her features to offer Alexander a pleasant, close-lipped smile and nod in greeting. "Congratulations on your win," she said to the hunter.

Alex smiled mildly, but it was clear that he was picking up on her unspoken hostility.

"Thanks," he said. "It looks like you two probably need to talk, so I'll leave you to it."

"I thank you kindly," Hild said sincerely with another bow of her head.

With a bow of his head, Alex dismissed himself, walking ahead of to give them privacy.

Only, when Hild turned back around to address him, likely sternly, Lyall was already gone.




User avatar
140 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 4430
Reviews: 140
Fri Jan 12, 2024 10:54 pm
View Likes
SilverNight says...



A door in the hedge ahead of them opened up, and the door that led into the room closed behind them. Once again, there was only one way forward.

James sat in his chair, leaning back with his head against the back of the chair and his hands over his face. He was frozen like that for a moment before he dropped his arms into his lap with a sigh, staring up at the sky.

"I don't think I want to keep moving anymore," he said. "This maze isn't worth it."

"They were never going to let us win," Shane said.

"I know," James sighed quietly.

Shane finally pulled his hands away from his face releasing a deep breath.

"The prize in conjuction with our names would've been perfect, though," he muttered. "Which is the irony of all this."

James was quiet for a moment.

"Hawke and Hawking...?" he mumbled.

Ah. He was tired. Shane could've smiled if he wasn't also.

"First names," he corrected. "That list on the slides. Protection and Safety. It said that we or any of a few other people would get the prize of giving one person 'immunity' from one event." Shane paused. "Which would be nice, given their track record. But I also feel like if we were allowed to miss one of those, it'd be the event where everyone gets unlimited ice cream and a free unicorn."

James hummed faintly.

"Maybe we could hope for one of the others on that list to win, and spend it on you," Shane said quietly. It felt strange to be using a sentence with hope in it and still mean it.

James let out another hum, but this one sounded sadder.

"Why not yourself?" he asked quietly.

"You've definitely suffered worse at all the events than I have," Shane said softly. "And in general, on this hell island."

"I hope this doesn't sound as cynical as it feels, but somehow I don't think missing out on an event will change anything," James said.

Shane bit his lip. It was true. If the DMV's aim was for James to suffer, they could make it happen anywhere and anytime.

"I hope that... whoever wins, that it's at least not Tula," James said, barely audible.

Shane closed his eyes. If there was any event worse than this maze, it was an event planned by Tula.

"I hope so too," he said quietly. "At least she doesn't seem to be receiving any unfair advantages at events."

A beat of silence.

"Hopefully Clarity's safe," he murmured. "They went in together."

James huffed up into the air. "I get the feeling that of all people, Clarity can handle Tula."

Shane let out a weak laugh, rubbing his face. "Right. I don't know what I'm worrying about."

"I'm sure at the end of all of this," James said. "That Alan will return Shrimp to you. That, at least, is something to look forward to."

"Me too," Shane said.

That, and the fact that apparently Alan had not kissed Alex before kissing him. Which was a specific but incredible relief.

"Or maybe he'll get attached," Shane said. "I wouldn't blame him. No one could spend five hours with Shrimp and want to return him."

"But Shrimp will always be most attached to you," James said. "I think we all know that."

Shane smiled, very faintly. "I would hope. Maybe it's unusual for me to be that attached to a pet, but Shrimp really is so important to me. He's been there for a lot of my life."

"I understand," James said quietly. "I... I feel the same way. About a horse I have back home."

Shane hummed, turning his head to him.

"What's your horse like?" he asked softly.

"...Annoying," James said with the smallest hint of a grin. "In the most endearing sort of way."

Shane let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head and giving James the floor to speak.

"His name's Elliot," James said. "I've had him since I was eighteen. I got him when he was just a foal."

"That's really adorable," Shane said softly, barely smiling. "You must trust each other well."

"Yeah," James said quietly. "We do..."

And it felt like he might've meant to say more, but instead he trailed off, staring vacantly into the sky.

Shane watched him quietly for a few moments.

"If there were ever some way, however unlikely the chance," he said quietly, "I think it'd be cool to meet Elliot."

"I'm sure he'd love to meet you too," James said. "Much like Shrimp, he's a sponge for attention."

Shane chuckled faintly. "Any idea if Elliot likes cats? They could keep each other company."

"He tolerates barn cats just fine," James said. "Lets them climb on him from time to time. I don't think he'd mind Shrimp at all."

Shane took a moment to imagine Shrimp in a cowboy hat, on a horse's back.

Okay. Maybe he was a little delirious.

"Have you ever worked with horses?" James asked.

Shane hummed. "I've had the chance to feed them," he said. "That and a few instances of horseback riding." He paused. "One of which, I fell off, and it was not the horse's fault."

James huffed through his nose.

"I've been working with them all my life," he said. "First, on the farm, and then, into my military service. Nye still relies on horses to get into certain areas of Nye that are still inaccessible otherwise."

Shane hummed. "Is Elliot a warhorse? Or was?"

"Retired," James said. "But yes. Now he lives peacefully on the family farm, with all of the fields to run in he could ever want. And he's constantly spoiled by my family. He's literally living the horse's dream."

"Good for him," Shane said softly. "That sounds pleasant for a horse."

"How long have you had Shrimp?" James asked, turning the conversation back to Shane.

"Since I was four," Shane said, smiling faintly and wistfully at the sky. "If you were wondering why he sounds like he was named by a four-year-old who didn't know how names worked, you've got your answer now."

James chuckled faintly at that.

"Okay," he said. "That's adorable."

Shane couldn't help but smile the tiniest bit wider.

"I get asked a lot if there was ever more of a thought process behind the name," he said. "The answer is no. I had probably just tried shrimp for the first time within a year before that and found the concept of it so hilarious that it was the only name I offered when my parents had me name him."

"Now I'm trying to imagine you as a four year old with a tiny kitten," James said. "I can see why your parents didn't try to talk you out of it. They probably thought it was hilarious."

"They did," Shane said, with the faintest grin. "The name has stuck for this long."

"And it'd be cruel to make Shrimp learn a new name, at this point," James said.

"It would. He's heard too many other food names by now," Shane said. "I say that because I feel like I'd have to stay in theme for any names I give pets from here on out."

"Are you going to keep naming them after crustaceans? Or just food in general," James asked.

"That is an excellent question," Shane murmured.

And because he was so tired, he gave it proper thought.

"On one hand, I think it'd be funny to have cats named Crab and Lobster," he said. "But on the other, there are so many foods that would be hilarious names for pets. I've always thought about having a cat named Tofu."

"That would be a cute name," James agreed.

The two of them were quiet for a few moments, and Shane's tired thoughts eventually turned away from cats. He glanced at James for a moment.

"Is there... anything on your mind?" he asked gently. "About the game, the monster, anything else?"

"Frankly," he said softly. "There's too much on my mind. Including someone else in there. I'm... just trying to ignore him, but it's like trying to turn off your heartbeat."

Shane nodded solemnly.

"He'll be out soon," he said quietly. "But in the meantime, you can tell him to (BLEEP) off, if you wouldn't mind."

James smirked slightly at that.

"Thanks," he said.

There. It was said. But not done.

Shane rubbed his face.

"He's not going to have his way with you," he said, in quiet reassurance. "Not now, not later with whatever Aaron could be doing."

James's smirk faded slowly.

"Maybe not," James said. "But I worry about Aaron. He's just as much a victim as I am."

Of course.

"He wants you to stay away from him," Shane said slowly. "...But are you going to?"

James fell quiet at that, looking away just a tad instead of saying anything. It was unclear if he was still deliberating or if he'd already made his choice and just didn't want to say it.

"If you are," Shane said carefully, "just be cautious. He might be a victim, but that doesn't mean he couldn't still hurt you."

"I know," James said quietly.

Shane didn't know a whole lot about wendigos. In fact, he might have ended today knowing less than he did yesterday.

...But maybe someone else did.

Cyrin could, if he was a scholar of folklore. It made sense that they should hear about this-- especially, if for some reason, they could be a target like James. Shane didn't see the connection past healing abilities, but maybe that was what this wendigo had in mind.

He did need to talk to Cyrin sometime, if only to tell him about the "locusts". He could also slip in some helpful information about a possible threat.

He didn't tell James this now, however. Not while that thing was still lurking in his head.

Before he had the chance to say anything different, though, the maze suddenly got a little darker. Shane sat up, trying to figure out why. The answer soon became apparent. The light that created the clock on the cloud had gone out.

Celebratory music played as fireworks filled the air. Shane scowled as confetti began falling from overhead, showering him with bits of colored paper.

"The golden pumpkin has been found!" Mireya cheered. "Congratulations to Lyall Ashlund, Alexander Kingsman, and..."

A drumroll sound followed her words. Shane frowned at the sky. Couldn't only three win? Where were Alan and Cyrin in this, if Lyall was a winner?

"Tula Nazar!" Mireya boomed. "To you lucky three, you'll have your rewards in the morning. Congratulations, and thank you all for playing!"

The fireworks died out. Shane slowly looked down from the sky, staring at James in shock.

"Tula?" he said, half in a whisper.

James was staring up at the sky, his eyes widened slightly and filled with dread. He let out a breathy laugh - it burst out of him in a huff, and first, and then quickly evolved into a groan as he curled forward, hiding his face in both hands.

Shane shared the feeling.

He found himself waiting, keeping an ear out for anything more. Maybe that something had gone wrong, and Mireya had made a mistake in the announcements. Maybe even that she was messing with them and was about to announce the real winners in a moment-- oops, just kidding! But no update came.

Instead, the hedges to their right suddenly parted, revealing an opening. Beyond it, Shane could see the glow of the beach cabins, where no one had turned off their lights before being magicked away from the event.

He felt his shoulders sag with relief. Finally. They could get out of here.

Even if not all was right.

Shane didn't immediately bolt for the exit, though, glancing back at James. He hadn't moved yet, and probably didn't see the exit, as his face was still buried in his hands.

"James," he said quietly. "They're letting us leave."

He looked up.

"Thank god," James muttered, getting to his feet. He immediately turned to pick up Eve again, who was still out cold.

Shane cautiously moved towards the exit, praying this was over with and it wasn't a trap. He took a deep breath before stepping through, immediately glancing around to make sure he was where he meant to be. He was out. It had worked. He let out a quiet sigh.

James was behind this time, trudging at a slower pace, but keeping up.

"Finally," James whispered.
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni

"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace

"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter

silver (she/they)




User avatar



Gender: None specified
Points: 350
Reviews: 1
Sat Jan 13, 2024 12:57 am
View Likes
urbanhart says...



Away from any torchlight of the beach, hidden among the trees, Lyall sighed and looked down at his wrist. Which. There was no point, he didn't have his powers still. Sunrise probably wasn't for another few hours, anyway.

So, he won. Not by any accomplishments of his own, but so what? He made it to the end, and not without anything to show for it. He'd get a share in the prize. It didn't take anything away from Alexander, and Tula. Maybe. Hopefully.

Did he really hope that? Alexander seemed more or less what Lyall had gathered about him. But Tula... Something was off during the competition. Fundamentally different about her. Unless she simply had a raging competitive streak, which wasn't impossible for sweet, unassuming people. But she didn't even make conversation after it was all over. There was something deeply dishonest about her.

What was Hild's deal? Her irritation was beyond an Ashlund's usual inability to lose to another Ashlund. She was truly enraged. He'd been on the receiving end of that look before. And last that happened, he'd actually. Monumentally screwed up, and deserved it. Sure.

But what did he do this time? There was no way she knew he cheated... Right?

Ducking his head, he ran both hands over his hair, and let them rest on the back of his neck. He'd have to face Alan and Cyrin at some point. Hopefully they were already asleep by now. Maybe he could slip back inside, unnoticed. Put that conversation off until... well, ideally for forever. But that wasn't realistic. So he'd have to prepare himself for A Discussion in the morning.

Though, mayhaps Alan wouldn't think much of it. Just brush it off.

Lyall had caught a glimpse of Cyrin through one of the cabin windows from a distance, so he at least knew they were okay. Thus, he hadn't felt compelled to venture inside just yet.

At some point, he'd have to address the unsigned contract. He still had a little under a week to consider it, but he knew delaying a decision would only make it harder.

Again, he wished he could run the whole ordeal by Hild. But now she was mad at him again...

With a heavy sigh, he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes lids. Gods, he wanted nothing more than to simply sleep.

Suddenly there was a familiar barking sound behind him. He had heard this noise before, in the maze.

"BORK BORK BORK! BARK BORK BORK!"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Lyall whipped around and found the same wolf from the maze running-- no, hobbling-- after him, not gaining much distance because he was moving slow. Still, the discheveled canine with knotted, matted fur growled and drooled with rotten teeth bared, locking eyes with him.

Lyall leaped off the stump where he sat, hands held out placatingly as he quickly backed away.

"Fucking figures," he muttered to himself, then aloud yelled at the foul creature, "Stay back!"

The wolf growled some more, now hobbling at a speed that was more alarming. The creature was prancing towards him now, teeth bared and seconds away from biting.

Someone somewhere was out to make Lyall's night a living hell now, he concluded as his heel caught on a conveniently placed root. He fell back with another curse.

The canine quite literally leapt for this opportunity, lunging at him until it stood over his body, its snout inches away from Lyall's face. A driblet of drool dropped down, as well as a whiff of rot from the canine's teeth and breath. The wolf growled threateningly, staring down at Lyall with impossibly bulging, blue eyes.

On instinct, Lyall snatched the wolf's jaws in both hands, clamping its wet mouth shut. The wolf yelped, viciously shaking its head to try to free itself from Lyall's grasp. He twisted his whole body, locking his arms around its lower neck to hold it down in the dirt beside him. It thrashed.

What the hell was this thing even doing here? Was it an errant obstacle? How could Lyall get out of...

He still had Alan's magic.

"It's alright," he grunted in its ear, trying his best to speak with intention as it fought his hold, "calm down, mate. We're good."

The growling began to subside, but the wolf still bared its teeth, staring at Lyall with the same bulging, unnerving eyes. Its blue eyes were so pale that they hardly held any color at all. The wolf appeared to calm down, but it still rested its weight on Lyall threateningly, digging its paws into his chest.

This had to be someone with Mister Robin's magic. A contestant.

Then Lyall was able to quickly narrow it down from there. No one here had eyes quite as large and distinct as the mangy mind reader.

Still desperately and awkwardly-- essentially hugging the wolf to his chest, Lyall took a steadying breath. "Stravos, was it? I think that was your name."

Fuck, could the mind reader understand him still in his form? He was at least responsive to the effects of the charm magic.

Ah, yes, new note: Alan's influence worked on animals. Or at least, those who could shapeshift to animals.

Oh, hm. More research needed.

If Stravos could even understand him, he didn't seem to care. Foamed-up drool exited the crevices of his mouth, the slobber getting all over Lyall's hands. Stravos internally panted loudly, staring down with his giant bug eyes as he pressed his paws against Lyall's throat, letting out a yipping sound. Like he was trying to laugh.

"Nope, no need for that," Lyall said, wheezing from the pressure put on his neck. "I promise you, you're fine. You are safe, you are calm."

The panting slowly subsided until Stravos stared back at him silently, only huffing out once more in that settled way animals do, with a spray a spittle. Gods, why did this man-turned-dog have such... ranged attacks with bodily fluids? Eugh.

Stravos pulled back his paws slightly so that Lyall could more easily gasp for air, but he didn't pull away. Not yet.

It was like he was... waiting. Or was curious. Or didn't know what to do.

Oh. Huh.

"...Wanna shift back now, mate?" Lyall suggested tentatively, managing to meet the mind reader's unnerving gaze without grimacing.

Stravos let out a high-pitched canine whine, pattering his paws against Lyall's neck. Were it to happen against the ground, it could have been endearing, but he instead chose to do this against his neck. The retracted sharp claws nicked at Lyall's neck, just barely cutting into his skin.

Disinfect it, Lyall first thought urgently.

"Change back," Lyall said, a little more firmly.

Stravos suddenly spasmed and twitched uncontrollably, still whining and pattering his claws against Lyall. He almost seemed... desperate. Did he know how to change forms? Lyall let go and shimmied back to watch a couple paces away.

Within the blink of an eye, he found himself staring up at the familiar man's human skeletal, sunken face.

Snot was dribbling down Stravos's nose, going past his lips. He loudly sniffed, still staring at Lyall with the giant eyes as he crawled towards him on all fours.

"You!" he wailed. "It's you!"

Lyall scrambled farther away, until his back hit a tree. Gods, why.

"Ah, ah!" He flung out a hand to keep the mind reader from coming any closer. "That's fine. Yes, it's... it's me."

"The voices led me to you!" Stravos said with giddy glee, suddenly maniacally laughing.

He rolled on his back to do so, his whole body convulsing with each breath. But then he suddenly stopped, rolling back on all fours as he frowned, staring back at Lyall with the bulging eyes.

"You're my savior!" Stravos said with another hollow laugh, his grin spreading and revealing his black, rotted teeth. He was now quickly and alarmingly crawling towards him like an animal. Or a pest.

"I--" Hands braced on the trunk behind him, Lyall managed to get back to his feet. "No, not even close. Just... trying to make 'til morning in one piece."

He scanned the trees, where the cabins sat peacefully in the near-distance. Maybe he should have just--

"My savior! You're my savior!" Stravos continued to say, over and over again. "You're my--"

He faceplanted on the dirt, seemingly losing his hold on the ground as he crawled. But he quickly scrambled back up, unblinking with dirt now smeared on his skin and teeth.

"Do it again! Please, do it again!" Stravos begged as he sat in front of him and reached out to take his arms, his disgusting fingers brushing over his sleeves.

Hand pressed over the small cut on his throat, Lyall suppressed a disturbed frown as he shrank further back against the tree.

Why was... This man was clinically unwell, gods.

"Can-- can I... help you?" Lyall eventually asked uncertainly, trying his best to extend some empathy. "Show you back to your cabin?"

"Do it again! Do it again! Do it again!" Stravos instead chanted, leaning in more and more until he was practically spitting in his face. His hands gripped on his sleeves tightly, though with how frail and weak the man looked, it shouldn't be difficult to pry free.

Lyall found himself torn between simply running off, and staying to do... something. He wasn't sure. And that was part of the problem. He wasn't qualified to mentally stabilize this man.

Using the unsettling proximity to his advantage now, Lyall hesitantly set a hand on Stravos's arm. "Please, return to your cabin," he said through his own slightly-panicked breaths, "get some rest."

Stravos suddenly stopped mid-sentence, an eerie silence falling as he stared at Lyall, his face inches away. He was so close, Lyall could smell the rot and body odor emanating from his body.

His grip around his arms loosened, and suddenly he was scampering away, hunched over the ground on all fours. Like a rat scurrying away, Stravos crawled off into the night, bee-lining towards his cabin.

Silence reined over the forest again.

Legs wobbling, Lyall fell back to the ground, still pressed against the tree. Quite honestly tempted to simply sleep here.

The sharp buzz of a mosquito past his ear was good incentive to not commit to the idea. With a tired groan, he hauled himself upright once more and trudged semi-blindly back to the row of cabins on the beach.

Gods, he needed this night to be over.




User avatar
176 Reviews
Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 4030
Reviews: 176
Sat Jan 13, 2024 12:58 am
View Likes
soundofmind says...



The walk home was a long-awaited relief. James was eager for all of this to be over. The fact that the beginning of his day felt like a year ago spoke to just how much had happened in the last five hours.

James was tired. Beyond tired, really. He exchanged being sick with this - a contant state of unending, insatiable hunger, and an uninvited voice inside his head that shared space in his thoughts. And it would've been funny to think that, before all of this, he'd woken up with a natural hunger as it was. Now it was amplified - like he shared the hunger of a dozen starving beasts at once.

He tried to fix his mind on something else.

The stars. The deep, dark sky. The air that stuck to him, and his skin, along with everything else that coated him except for real clothing.

He just wanted this day to be over. He knew that Shane felt the same. He couldn't help but wonder how many of the others shared in the sentiment, or if James and Shane got the worst of it. Honestly, it was a mercy that Eve had been stuck asleep for the greater half of the maze - it was arguably the worst of it, and frankly, James didn't want to imagine her reactions to everything they saw anyway. She didn't need to see it. He certainly wished he hadn't.

With a small sigh, he found himself staring off ahead of him, lost in an empty daze.

All he could think about was getting home. Putting some clothes on. Getting some food in his stomach. At this point he felt like half a person. He'd been robbed of basic necessities that he never thought he'd take for granted like this.

And he still had to bear with the curse of the monster inside him until sunrise, before it passed on to its original host. He didn't have the capacity to think about what he'd do once he could think freely again, and he refused to as long as his head was occupied by a stranger.

He pinched his eyes shut for a moment.

Ugh. Okay. Just a little further...

He swayed a little besides Shane, not losing hold of Eve, but feeling a shudder run through him again. He was still so starving...

"When we get home," James said faintly, "I'll... throw some clothes on, and take Eve back to her cabin. No need to wait on me."

Shane nodded. "I'll heat you some leftovers," he said quietly. "And... shower and change."

He glanced down at himself, where the dirt and dried blood stained his shirt. Even though the blood was looking more brown than red now, there was no doubt it had still come from a grievous wound. Although Shane generally didn't look the part of an Heir, he seemed to fit even less in that role now.

"Do the latter first," James said with a slow nod.

"If you're sure," Shane said quietly.

"It'll be better for all our sakes'," James said softly.

Shane stared off at the ground, silent, before he nodded hollowly. His feet were dragging slightly in the sand, too tired to make full steps. And even though James wasn't sure he wanted to leave the two of them in silence, he couldn't think of anything to fill it. Between the two of them, they were exhausted. So they continued to the cabin in silence. They walked down the paved sandy path, weaving through the hilly jungle terrain until they broke through to the beachfront, passing every other cabin until they finally came to theirs at the end.

Shane opened the door, and they walked in. They knew Connie wasn't home yet because his shoes weren't by the door, but James didn't mention a thing as he silently noted the man's absence. Eager to get something decent on, James laid Eve out on their unfortunately-semi-melted-couch and gave Shane one last empathetic nod before hurrying upstairs.

He didn't want to bother looking in the mirror at the moment. He already knew it was going to be as horrific as he felt, so he bypassed the bathroom and went straight to his room, throwing on a shirt he didn't care about and finally: underwear and pants.

He felt unnerved, knowing the monster was still lurking in his head as an audience, so he tried not to look too much about his room, or even at himself, preferring to keep as much privacy as he could manage despite it all.

"Please," the wendigo suddenly spoke up, tone suggestive, "don't rush on my account."

James hurried even more.

"You really have no respect for people, do you," James muttered, pulling on his shorts and hastily rushing out his door, letting it swing loosely behind him.

The monster tutted, feigning hurt. "I'm merely taking a sincere interest."

James tried to scrub his brain of the icky feeling both inside and out, but it didn't work. He hurried back downstairs, and Shane was already gone - presumably changing for himself - and it was only Eve downstairs, waiting for him.

Sighing, James picked her up once more, looking her over for any signs of waking. But she was still undoubtedly asleep. Whatever drug they'd hit her with, it'd been strong, and James imagined Eve didn't have a high resistance to such things anyway. It'd been almost four hours, now, and she was still just as unconcious as she was before.

She'd wake up eventually, though. She had to. If she didn't, that would mean she was comatose, and he was pretty positive even the DMV didn't want that, even if was only for press reasons.

He headed for the front door. It had been left ajar in the wake of their hasty return, so he was able to kick it further open with his foot and weave Eve through by going sideways.

He just needed to get her home and then he could retreat into... himself. He just had to endure this for the night. Then it would be over.

"How many more hours do we have left with each other?" the monster hummed. "The time change is throwing me."

"Too many," James muttered aloud.

The wendigo chuckled. "I was about to say, 'too few.' How you wound me, Hawke."

James tensed. He would hurry his pace if he wasn't so exhausted. For the first time in a long time, the sand felt like it was actually fighting back, and his feet were dragging in it. He knew it was in part because his regenerative powers were gone, but it felt like it was everything making him drag behind.

What did the wendigo gain from all of this? Weren't there other ways to survive other than leeching off of people? There had to be.

"Want to ask me directly?" the wendigo said with amusement. "I'm feeling generous at the moment."

James shrunk away a little at that, feeling the twist of apprehension and curiosity in his chest.

He'd already tried asking the wendigo questions, but he supposed he could try again. See if any fruit came of it.

Is there no other option? he asked. Why prey on people?

"None," the voice confirmed. "Think of it as... a sort of blood transfusion. You need to source and match it all properly."

But surely there was -- at one point, you had to have thought there was another way, right? James asked, searching for some sense of humanity. Were you always like this?

There was a second's delay before the wendigo answered, "How do you think I know? I've tried before. Got the brilliant idea to try feeding off animals. What a disaster that turned out to be..."

James couldn't get rid of the creeping feeling under his skin. The problem was he wanted to believe the monster, but something just felt wrong...

He knew this feeling. He knew what it felt like to be lied to.

You may be feeling generous, James said slowly. But I don't think you're feeling very forthright or honest.

The voice chuckled. "Do with it what you will. Don't believe me. It's fine. To answer your second question, no. I wasn't always like this."

James winced slightly. The discomfort was perpetuating. The more he indulged the monster, the more filthy he felt.

Of course not, James admitted quietly within himself. At some point you were a child, just as hungry. And then you chose to become what you are now.

The voice huffed with annoyance now. "You asked my name earlier. Are you still curious?"

James was quiet for a moment, knowing that his true answer was already known before he could think it with intention.

Yes, he admitted.

"You may call me Constantine," the monster finally obliged.

There was a beat of hesitation in James's mind. Constantine was not that common of a name, but evidently, now he knew two. One was his cabin-mate. Now the other was a wendigo.

Is that your real name? James asked.

Another pause. "I'll let you decide," the monster said flippantly.

James sighed, looking up to the sky with a pained expression.

"This is the longest night of my life," he muttered, dropping his eyes back to the ground ahead of him. They were almost to Eve's cabin. Just a few more yards.

And for just a second, finally Constantine was quiet.

Then he heard Eve softly moan, her head rolling inwards towards his chest.

James faltered in his steps, eyes immediately snapping down towards her. This was the first time she'd moved out of her own volition in hours.

"James..." Eve mumbled quietly, head rolling inward as she stirred to lean towards him, reaching out.

But that movement caused her body to sink and flop in the space between his hands, and with the bounce of his steps, she stirred even with more frantic in movements. He didn't have time to balance her. Her eyes snapped open, visible panic surging through her.

"James!" she sputtered out, flailing her entire body in his grasp. "What--! Where--?!"

James hastily came to a stop, setting her on the ground as carefully as he could manage with her flailing. She was nearly hyperventilating, hands shaking as she shuffled her legs across the sand, trying to gain her bearings.

"It's over," James said calmly. "The maze is over."

Eve whipped her head around, the familiar scene of the cabins registering into view. The familiar sights and his words seemed to calm her, at least a tiny bit.

"It's... it's over?" she spat out skeptically, her eyes glued back on him. She faltered, registering his unkempt appearance. Which was an understatement, to say the least. He was still covered in crusting paint, dirt, blood, and pumpkin splatter. It was just... covered by clothes now. Partially.

He felt sticky.

Her panic was visibly rising again, her breaths turning shallower and quicker.

"You were out for almost four hours," James said. "But it's-- we're all okay. No one's hurt."

"Where's Shane?!" she demanded, now clutching on to the skirt of her dress.

"He went home already," James said. "To get a shower. Take a breather. It's been a long night."

Eve stared at him with wide eyes, silent. He could tell that she had a flood of questions to ask, but she held back. For now.

Except for one question.

"What happened?" she whispered, voice wavering as she tightly held on to her dress with shaking hands.

"It's a bit of a long story," James said, kneeling down beside her to meet her at her level. "Do you want to clean up first? I promise you, we're all okay now. No one's hurt. Just... dirty."

"James, you're covered in...!" She flailed her arm up and down towards his body.

"A lot," he interjected. "I know. I need a bath. Can we talk about this not out in the open, though?"

Eve opened her mouth to interject, but then she snapped it shut, nodding as she frantically shuffled to her feet. "Whose cabin?" she asked, but left no room for him to answer. "Mine."

Well. She answered her own question. Getting to his own feet, he followed beside her. She was nearly running, so James had to jog to keep up. Her legs were a little longer than his. She marched up the steps ahead of him and slammed the door behind them after stiffly ushering him inside. Still, she didn't say another word as she then rushed past him, going up the stairs and beckoning for him to follow. Presumably, to her room.

"Shall I avert my eyes for this next portion of your evening?" Constantine teased.

James cringed at the comment, replying with an insistent no. He hurried to follow, meeting Eve at her bedroom door, where he paused in the entryway.

"Eve, maybe you should--" he tried to say.

"Just come in," she cut in, taking his hand to yank him in.

Or at least, she tried to. James still weighed the same despite the magic switching, so her legs slid across the wooden floors as she tried to pull him in some more, flailing. James reached out and steadied her, but he didn't move from where he stood in the doorway.

"You're covered in dirt and you smell like shrimp water. Change. I'll be in the hall when you're done," James said, stepping back out.

"I--" Eve began, but then scowled and let out a long sigh. "Okay. Wait here."

James just nodded, watching as the door shut in his face. Then the door flew open again a minute later. Marching over to the bathroom, James assumed she'd decided to shower, so he merely nodded in brief acknowledgement and decided to sit in the hall, waiting with his back against he wall. She said she'd be out in a minute. He didn't care about waiting.

Except that with her gone, Constantine decided to speak up again.

"You could have offered to keep her company," the wendigo purred. "I don't think she would have declined."

James groaned, bumping his head against the wall as if that would shake the creature out of it.

"Is this all you think about?" James whispered harshly. It was like almost everything Constantine ever said only came from a carnal mind. Was this really all he had to offer?

Constantine huffed. "Fine. I can offer something more insightful, if you so desire."

Playing with fire, James said: Try me. Because he had a feeling Constantine was about to say something regardless.

"Keller is indeed finding a new host to punt me off to," Constantine said, tone turning serious.

James stared at the wall in front of him.

Punt you off to, he repeated in his mind. As in, get rid of him? Did it work like that?

But of course, Constantine decided to not offer anything more.

James frowned. That... would make sense of what he was already suspecting. Aaron was looking for someone to infect, that much James knew, but Constantine implied that Aaron meant is as a means to free himself. To pass the curse from himself to another.

Or did Constantine merely word it that way to throw him off? If wendigos could trade their condition to be free of it, surely that would be more... well-known. Right?

James knew Constantine was interested in using him as a host because he was an endless well of energy and could regenerate on his own. That, he'd already deduced a while ago. Cyrin was being considered for the same reasons...

James was pulled out of his thoughts when the bathroom door opened.

Eve had been gone for maybe five minutes. She came back out with joggers, a baggy white sweatshirt, and a fluffy white towel was around her neck. Her long, dark hair was still drenched in water. She smelled earthy, a bit like dirt, so he wondered how good of a job she actually cleaned herself since the shower was so fast. And if she used any soap, he couldn't smell it. Perhaps she used scentless soap, or perhaps she used none at all.

At least the shrimp smell was gone.

He got to his feet, watching as she marched right out of the bathroom back into her room. She hastily opened the door, impatiently motioning him inside. He followed inside, and she again slammed the door shut.

Ow. Loud.

"Better?" she asked, obviously annoyed that he made her wait.

"Yes," he mumbled faintly.

Eve sat at the end of her bed, throwing a fluffy pillow on the floor and then gesturing to it, meeting his eyes.

James nodded with understanding and sat on the floor, but he nudged the pillow out of the way, not wanting to get it dirty.

"Okay. Now tell me everything," she said.

"After we were taken by the skeletons," James began without hesitation. "We were drugged asleep. Cyrin had Connie's dreamwalking magic and found us in our dreams, waking Shane and I up, but he was unable to wake you. We all woke up covered in dirt, likely from the transition, and we waited for you to wake for some time. When it became clear Cyrin hadn't succeeded in reaching you, we decided to move on and bring you along, carrying you so you weren't left behind."

He paused.

"Did you sense Cyrin trying to reach you at all? I'm still unsure why he wasn't able to wake you the same way he did with us," James said.

Eve pressed her lips tightly together, looking away with furrowed brows. "No," she said coldly.

Well. That wasn't exactly the reaction James was expecting, but, at least he had an answer. He thought Eve might've been more worried about this, but it appeared she already knew the why behind the what. Otherwise she wouldn't have seemed as settled. He decided not to pry, only because he knew Constantine was listening. They could talk about it later when James didn't have an audience.

"No, please," Constantine whined, "just a peek behind the closed doors to Eve LaCroix's island life."

Ah, so now he felt chatty again. Of course.

"Well," James continued, "After that, we ran into Jay and Aaron. They'd been caught in an area with a giant spider - it sounded like one of the variants from Nye. They'd both been wounded, but Jay had Cyrin's magic of wound-transference. I offered to take his wound from him since he was worse off. He gave it to me and then he and Aaron left without much fanfare."

Eve's eyes went wide. "He gave it to you? But you..." She gave him another frantic glance up and down.

"I literally offered," James said. "It wasn't--"

"Are you still hurt?" she cut in.

James hesitated.

"No," he said. "That's-- that's where what happened next becomes relevant."

Eve's anxiety seemed to worsen the longer she didn't have any answer to her question. She circled her hand in front of her impatiently. "Okay, what happened? How did you heal if you no longer have your regeneration magic?"

"After Aaron and Jay left, we were forefully led into another room in the maze. After a needlessly theatrical opening song that was meant to scare us, we were attacked by an army of animate pumpkins."

At the sheer absurdity of that scentence, James had to pause.

"Just-- bear with me," he said.

Eve obviously did not believe this, based on her disbelieving scrunched up face that read: What?

"Carved pumpkins - with faces - were enchanted to have pumpkin-make bodies and bore carving knives in their hands. They ambushed us, and one struck Shane. I learned later that he'd inherited my magic and healed just fine, but at the time, I thought he'd been dealt a fatal blow. Thinking I was left with no other options, as we were severely outnumbered, I sent Shane to watch over you, as you were unconscious, and I thought he was possibly bleeding out. I dealt with the pumpkins by... letting the wendigo's form emerge. Partially. I managed to keep a leash on it and return to my human state once the pumpkins were no longer an issue."

James pressed his lips into a line, watching Eve's face for her reaction. She was intensely focused, nearly glaring at him, quickly taking it all in.

"Is that how you healed? Because you partially became a wendigo?" she asked lowly.

"Yes," James said. "The wendigo is impervious to physical attacks, so I was able to recover from the wound and any other damage."

"Did you eat any of the pumpkins?" Eve asked steadily.

James blinked.

"I mean, they were pumpkins," he said slowly. "So... yeah."

"Did it contain the hunger?" she pressed.

James squinted, looking to the side. If anything, all it did was make him hungrier. It was like eating reminded him of how truly hungry he was.

"The maze is over, yet you still hold this curse," Eve added, watching him closely.

"Our magics are switched until sunrise," James said. "That announcement was made when the maze event ended."

She was quiet for a quick moment. "You're still hungry," she said lowly. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," James said. "But I'm managing still. The--"

He sighed, knowing that he'd have to tell her, but not really wanting to talk about it again with Constantine in his head.

"Pleeeease, god," Constantine groaned, "just finish a damn thought already. I can't stand another Keller."

If James could've kicked Constantine, he would have.

"The wendigo who's made Aaron his host," James said. "He has a sort of... telepathic connection with the people he infects. He's been able to see and hear everything I do, and communicate his thoughts to my mind, as well as hear my own."

Eve's glare intensified, burning a hole through his eyes. But James knew the glare was directed towards Constantine, not himself.

"He's hearing this entire conversation, isn't he?" she said through her teeth.

"...Yes," James said quietly. "I'm sorry, I should've said so sooner."

"What's his name?" she said instead. "Is it even a person?"

"Constantine," James said. "He's a real person. I don't think distance affects his connection to his hosts, though."

"Don't call him Constantine, and don't call it a person," Eve said sternly. "It's an infection. A disease. A parasite. One that feeds off other people's hunger until they lose their humanity. They may say they're a person, but they are not, no matter how much of its humanity it has eaten from others. This parasite has lost its humanity long ago. It's dressed in human skin, but it is not a person."

Constantine made an indignant noise at that.

James shrunk back, but it felt more like Constantine's thoughts affecting his own. He nodded slightly, not disagreeing, but unable to find a response to Eve's harsh condemnation.

"How does it work?" she asked, hastily moving on.

"Which part?" James asked.

"All of it. You said the parasite has a connection to its host. How does it work?" she went on.

James hesitated. "I... I don't know for sure," James said. "I have a feeling I'm the first person Con--the wendigo has had access to without it having to actively infect someone. I think that usually happens when a wendigo breaks the skin barrier - usually through biting or scratching. Not unlike how vampirism spreads, or how some werewolf myths go."

Eve's bounced her knee, wringing her hands on her lap as her brows pinched deeper together. "Everyone has a weakness. The wendigo is no different." She snapped her head to him. "What do you know of it?"

James withered a little under her stare.

"I don't know," he said. And it was honest, but he also wished Eve wouldn't ask with Constantine's consciousness in the room.

"In the morning, the parasite will be returned to Aaron." She paused. "I don't know Aaron well, but I don't think he is capable of freeing himself from this curse."

"If he was, I think he would have already," James said more quietly.

"I know this must be difficult for you. But if you want to help Aaron... it could be beneficial to talk to it more." Eve paused, frown deepening. "I'm sure Constantine would enjoy that."

"Immensely," Constantine agreed smoothly.

James nodded with a small shiver.

"Right," he said. "I can try."

But he didn't have high hopes of getting anything useful out of Constantine. Especially now that he'd had a straightforward conversation with Eve about mining for information.

"For instance: how did it get infected?" Eve offered. "Everyone has an origin story. Perhaps its history is telling."

"Perhaps 'it' might feel inclined to share," Constantine sneered, "if you were a tad nicer."

James only nodded again. Fine. He would try to be nicer.

"He's not always cooperative, but I'll do what I can," he said.

There was another short silence as Eve observed them. Then went on, asking, "What else happened in the maze?"

"Ah," he said with a small huff, straightening up again to get his head back there, instead of on the path it was travelling. "After the pumpkin attack, the maze opened up again, and we walked for some time. Eventually we were led into another room with another puzzle. Though, it was more of a test. There was a projector and a screen. The short of it is they played a lot of different clips from the show - some of them real, some fabricated - and we had to determine if they were true or false. We ended up getting all of them right, but we were too tired to keep going afterward and stayed there for a bit, since there were chairs. We were only there for another fifteen minutes, maybe, before it was announced that the pumpkin had been found and the event was over."

He paused again, but this time a little more apprehensive, knowing that Eve would likely be just as reactive as he and Shane were to know the winners.

"The group that found the pumpkin evidently got switched around. I assume people might've lost one another in the maze. But... it was Lyall, Alexander, and Tula."

Eve's jaw clenched. "Tula?" she spat out venomously.

"I don't know how she ended up with them," James said. "But it doesn't surprise me. She acts like a different person with everyone else."

She frantically shook her head. "No. I don't buy it. This seems... intentional. The maze was rigged from the start, James. There was no way our group was winning. The DMV wanted them to win. The question is: why? Why the three of them?"

James felt the same way, but he felt a little too exhausted to explore the reason for their victory at the moment. He knew Tula already had an in with the DMV, but he really didn't know much about Alexander, and he trusted Lyall. Or at least, he wanted to, and he didn't know why this would change anything.

All he knew about Alexander's experience in the maze was that he'd been with Hendrik at the start. It was possible they got separated--

"What do you know about Alexander and Lyall?" Eve cut in. "You're friends with Lyall. Right?"

James realized he'd already started thinking regardless, and he'd begun to zone out, staring at a spot on the wall. Snapping his head back up to Eve, he tried to give her his attention.

"I-- yes," he said. "I mean, we're still at a pretty shallow level, I suppose, but that's expected with us only having known each other for a month. I don't see him as someone with malicious intention, but he's someone who's very eager to please. It's possible he was appeasing Alexander and/or Tula. He has the capacity to be very charismatic when he wants to be, so it wouldn't surprise me if, perhaps, when separated from his former group, he was eager to find another, and maybe they were the first ones he ran into. He's not the kind of person I see preferring to face this kind of challenge alone if he had a choice in the matter."

Eve nodded, taking in every word. "And Alexander? What do you know of him?"

"Very little," James said. "He's an interesting character. He seems to get along with Hild a decent amount, but I get the feeling he's more reserved with her than he truly is. He might be more scheming and observant than he seems. But he also has proven to be empathetic in a few instances I can think of..."

Of which he really didn't want to go into detail, since the two main instances he was thinking of were from the cursed true or false quiz.

"I don't know," James said. "He's more difficult to read."

"He's also friendly with Tula," Eve countered. "They live together, and they also spend more time with each other outside of the cabin."

"Yes," James said. "This is only intuition-based, but it feels like they tolerate each other more than they enjoy each other."

"If Alexander is as observant and scheming as we think he is, then he should pick up on Tula. She may act different with others, but that doesn't mean she's a good actor," Eve said.

"So you're hypothesizing that he tolerates her inconsistency because he sees through her," James said.

"Or he is on her side," she said lowly.

"Maybe it's not that black and white," James said. "We don't know his motives."

"Not yet. When was the last time you talked to him?" Eve asked.

James frowned, looking off into the distance as he tried to think.

"I don't think we've talked much at all," James said. "Not the two of us, anyhow."

Eve nodded. "Everyone has a weakness, and perhaps we're looking at this the wrong way. Instead of infiltrating Tula, perhaps we should be closely examining Alexander instead, who spends the most time with her. They even live together. If she trusts anyone on this island, it's him."

James wasn't so sure about trust, but he supposed Tula had to put some level of it in Alexander to let him be close. She was going for the long con, but like Eve said - she wasn't a perfect actor - and James had witnessed the times when her mask dropped, even if it was only for a second. Anyone observant would pick up on it and start seeing the warning signs.

"It's not just Alexander," Eve went on. "Don't you find it suspicious that we don't know much about the people who live with her?"

"I'm less suspicious of Aaron now that I know he's a recluse because of Constantine and not by choice," James said. "I don't imagine someone of a lesser tolerance could bear being around others with a hunger this constant."

"And Jay?" she pressed. "What about him? He's friendly with Aaron."

"He just seems antisocial," James admitted. "He has poor people skills, but it seems he's gained Aaron's trust. I don't know what that says about him, but when I saw them in the maze, they seemed to..."

"They were rather friendly with each other, weren't they," Constantine supplied, a brow waggle in his voice.

No more than what James would have expected from normal friends, though. Constantine was merely implying things to be evocative.

James shrugged. "I don't know much about Jay," James admitted. "Not enough to tell you anything conclusive."

"Perhaps. But you did gain his trust. You took the wound from him, didn't you?" Eve said.

"I don't know if that was trust or just the fact that Jay was in a lot of pain and jumped at the chance for relief," James said. "But he did seem grateful, at least."

"You can use that," Eve said, scooting closer to the edge of her bed. "If Tula is unable to keep her act in public, then there's a higher chance that she dropped her act in private. Jay may know about Tula, but is indifferent about her intentions. He may even know if she and Alex are scheming."

"True," James agreed. "It's likely he at least knows something."

Eve kept her stare on him, saying nothing for a few seconds. Before James's mind could wander, she went on, saying, "The DMV isn't being sloppy with their cruelties. They are slowly revealing their true intentions to taunt us. Every week, the intensity and stakes seem to increase. I expect the next week to be no different."

James nodded slowly. His own past week had been chaotic and hellish on its own. Though he expected the stakes to increase, he didn't like thinking about what that meant, and there really was no way for him to anticipate exactly what that would look like. All he could really do was brace himself.

"Right," he said, a little quieter, because he could feel the pull on his mind to go somewhere familiarly dark. But he didn't want to.

"Did that answer all of your questions?" he asked.

Eve shook her head, wringing her hands. "What put us to sleep?" she asked.

"That, I still don't know for certain," James said. "I suspect it was somthing like chloroform, based on how long it kept you out, but I don't know how that explains Shane and I's ability to wake up after Cyrin's interference in our dreams."

Eve's expression hardened as she tilted her head away for a moment, a strand of wet hair falling over her shoulder and concealing part of her face. Before James could say anything, though, she turned back and said, "I have no more questions."

Okay. So they'd talk more about this later. In the morning, then.

"You should eat," Eve went on, changing the subject.

James blinked. "Yes," he said. "Sure."

"Do you..." She hesitated, flicking her eyes up and down his body. "...Need to clean first?"

James slightly pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah. I do."

Though he was, admittedly, feeling very conflicted about doing so with Constantine watching.

"I'm going to head home and do that," he said, getting up to his feet, looking a bit awkwardly down at the dirt-and-pumpkin-mush remains he left behind on the floor. "Shane mentioned he'd make something. We have food."

Eve was quick to get up on her feet. "I'll come with you. You two should rest. I'm not tired, so I can cook."

James hesitated, but he didn't really feel like arguing. Eve didn't strike him as the kind of person to offer her help out of obligation, so he decided not to refuse. The only caveat was that he was kind of hoping to get alone for a bit, just to decompress. But maybe that would have to wait until morning, anyway, since Constantine was still around.

"Alright," he agreed.

He supposed he could last another few hours.
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.
- Dr. Mind




User avatar
140 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 4430
Reviews: 140
Sat Jan 13, 2024 1:00 am
View Likes
SilverNight says...



Shane dangled the bloodied t-shirt over the bathroom trash can, staring down blankly at it. A tiny part of him was tempted to hold on to it, just so he'd have confirmation in the morning that he hadn't made this nightmare up. But he also knew that he'd be so quick to throw it away the moment he got anything from it. With a sigh, he dropped it in.

He'd keep his jeans for now, but if it became unbearable to wear them, those were out too. And he didn't have his flannel to worry about, because that was lying shredded and filthy on a garden floor. Shane had taken note of the specific pattern on it-- green and white plaid-- the moment he'd known he'd have to part with it, so he could always get it again. New clothing was the worst, though. Everything recent had the strongest readings for a long time until he wore it enough that they gradually got faint.

Never mind that problem. He'd finally scrubbed the blood off in the shower, and hopefully all the dirt too. His number one concern was getting to bed.

Shane quickly changed into his pajamas, which were his coziest flannel set, because he deserved that much tonight, surely. Once he had, he caught himself in the mirror. The haggard look on his face felt almost unrecognizable, and he rubbed at his face, hoping that would do something to smooth out the lines of exhaustion.

Bed. Right.

Shane left the bathroom, heading back to his room quietly. He didn't pass James in the hallway, and he didn't see any lights on downstairs. He must've left with Eve.

Shane closed the door behind him, crashing on his bed and burying his face in his hands, sighing wearily.

He felt tired. Drained. But not at all restful.

A knocking sound came from the direction of the balcony, and Shane frowned slightly, raising his head. Was that downstairs? No, it was too close for that.

He looked over at the balcony to see Alan standing in front of the glass door, with no shirt on, beaming. And holding up Shrimp.

The sight-- and the relief-- gave Shane the burst of energy he needed to get up, run over to the balcony, and open the door for Alan.

"Hey," he breathed, feeling a real smile warm his face.

"Hey, you," Alan said with a warm smile, extending his cat out to him. He held under his front legs, so they stuck out in the air. "I'm here for a special cat delivery."

Shane met his gaze for a few moments, trying to pour all his gratitude into the eye contact, before reaching out and taking Shrimp. Shrimp purred in his arms, and Shane held the cat close, feeling a tension that he hadn't even been aware of be released from his shoulders. He gently smooched the cat's head between the ears, keeping his face there for just a moment to realize all over again how soft his fur was. The relief to have him back and safe was almost crushing.

"Hey, little one," he said softly, keeping his cheek there as he petted the cat's back, feeling happy tears enter his eyes. "I'm so glad to see you."

Shrimp kept purring, sending a comforting vibration through Shane. Shane looked up at Alan, smiling at him, hoping it could express all he felt.

"Thank you," he said, softly but sincerely. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."

Alan smiled, tender affection apparent in his eyes as he watched Shane reunite with his cat. He drew in close so he could scratch behind Shrimp's ear.

"He's saying he loves you. Many, many times," Alan said, endeared as he watched Shrimp meow and bat up at Shane's face.

Shane stared at him as his heart swelled, feeling his smile grow.

"You can understand him?" he asked, with an almost child-like excitement.

Alan grinned, excitement shining in his own eyes as he nodded. "I have Clanny's magic. I've been chatting with him the entire time. He's such good company." He patted Shrimp's head and cooed, "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Shrimp purred, nuzzling his hand affectionately. Alan lovingly petted his head back, totally adored. Somehow, Shane's heart felt even warmer.

"That's wonderful," he said, with glee in his voice. "I'm so glad you found each other. He seems to love you too." He paused, still smiling at Alan, while he kept petting Shrimp's back. "Can you let him know I love him too, a million times over?" he asked softly.

Alan leaned in towards Shane, his face close to him and Shrimp so he could whisper in the cat's ear, "He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you."

Shrimp purred in a new, deeper way that Shane couldn't remember if he'd heard before. He let out a happy, surprised laugh, feeling a couple of the tears of joy fall down his face.

"Hey," Alan said softly with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the tear off his cheek. "I didn't realize how much this would move you. But I'm so happy to be a part of it."

"I'm happy you are, too," Shane said, smiling at him with all the warmth that was filling his heart. "I'm so thankful things worked out this way. This is better than I could've hoped."

Alan smiled wider, giving Shane his full attention as he took in every word. There was a short silence before he asked, "Do you want company? I know it's late."

"I would like that, if you would too," Shane said softly, smiling wider as well. A few minutes ago, this would've seemed impossible. "I bet Shrimp would like it. There's still several hours left where the three of us would be able to talk to each other."

He scratched behind the cat's ears.

"Plus, I could get you a shirt," he said with a laugh. "I have plenty of cozy pajamas."

Alan glanced down at his own cozy pajamas, grinning. "Do you have another matching pair?"

Shane couldn't help but grin as well. "Are you asking me of all people if I have more flannel pajamas in my wardrobe? The answer is a certain yes."

"Maybe you'll convert me to wearing flannel soon," Alan said with a grin.

Shane laughed, enjoying the lightness he felt as he stepped aside, letting Alan enter and closing the balcony door behind him. With a grin over his shoulder, he moved to the closet while cradling Shrimp, who peeped over his shoulder and meowed excitedly at Alan.

"Here you are. Now we'll be impossible to tell apart," he said, grinning as he reached in and took out a matching pajama set for Alan.

Alan let out a muffled laugh, nodding in appreciation as he took the pajama set from him, temporarily placing it on his bed. "Shrimp says he's so glad I'm staying. He wants me to come over more, which I promised," he said through a smile, unrolling the shirt in front of him to admire.

"Love to hear it," Shane said, smiling back. "Shrimp deserves all the love."

Alan lifted the shirt, poking his head through it. "So do you, though," he said as he fitted his arms through the holes first, sleeves snugly engulfing him. Then his head popped out, and he smiled as he readjusted his glasses. "I'd visit more to see you both."

Shane kept on smiling, rubbing Shrimp's head. "And that makes me even happier," he said with a soft, warm laugh.

Still smiling, Alan took off the pants he was wearing to put on the flannel ones, and Shane turned his smile down at Shrimp while waiting, booping the cat's nose. Shrimp let out a pleasant mrrp. Shane laughed, doing it again for fun, and Shrimp made the same sound back.

"He likes it when you do that," Alan said with a smile, folding his old clothes on his lap while he sat at the end of Shane's bed.

Shane grinned softly, sitting down next to him and setting Shrimp between them. The cat immediately began to purr happily, nuzzling Alan's leg while his tail swished Shane's knee. "There's nothing more pure than booping a cat's nose."

Alan suddenly grinned, pouncing on the cat to hug Shrimp against his chest, falling against the bed and rolling over to his back so he can hold Shrimp up in the air, lightly shaking him.

"We practically just met!" he scolded playfully to the cat. "Is everyone your favorite person?"

Shrimp purred, flailing his little legs in the air. Alan laughed, slightly jiggling him so it looked like he was doing a little dance in the air.

"Did he say you were his favorite person?" Shane laughed, shaking his head and turning on the bed to sit in front of Alan with his legs crossed comfortably.

"You and I," Alan corrected as he glanced back with a smile. "But he just admitted that everyone who pets him is his favorite, so that list must be pretty big."

"Aww," Shane said, smiling as he reached up to pat the cat's head. "Well, I can share that title, I suppose."

Alan went on to baby talk Shrimp, babbling and cooing like he was a small child who wanted attention. Shane smiled, sitting back on his hands, feeling his heart warm.

The weight of all that had happened tonight was still there, but it was kept at bay, sitting at the walls around this precious, sweet moment. And to Shane, that meant it didn't even exist right now.

Eventually, Alan rolled to his side, sliding Shrimp closer to his chest as he purred and brushed his tail against his face. Alan smiled, his eyes flitting up to Shane to acknowledge him, but he seemed perfectly fine sitting in the peaceful silence together.

Shane smiled back, lying down on his side so Shrimp was within reach, and he stroked the cat's soft back fur, feeling the vibration of his purring through his hand.

"I'm glad he likes you and you like him," he said softly, glancing up at Alan with a smile.

Alan met his gaze, smiling back as his hand gently brushed up against his while petting Shrimp. "Me too," he said, just as soft.

"He's the best cat in the whole wide world," Shane continued, blowing the cat a little kiss. "Mwah."

Alan let out an airy laugh, watching Shane with an open affection before he gasped and poked at the cat. "Did you hear that?" he exclaimed with excitement. "He just called you the best kitty in the whole wide world! And he blew you a kiss! You better catch it before it flies away!"

Shrimp meowed, batting at the air as if to snag it, and a delighted laugh bubbled past Shane's lips at the sight. He grinned, leaning in so his face was close to the cat's.

"That's right," he soothed, rubbing the cat's cheek with the back of his knuckles softly. "You heard it right here, it's all true. Do you know how many other cats you had to beat to that title? And yet you are triumphant, a cat above all cats. That means you get all the kisses." Shane smooched the top of Shrimp's head. "Mwah." Shrimp let out another happy mrrp.

Flooded with endearment, Alan leaned his face closer so his chest could be brushed up against Shrimp's back, leveling eye contact with Shane so they could see eye-to-eye, faces close. He smiled softly, only tearing his gaze away so that he could lovingly look down at Shrimp.

"Shane described how much he loves you," he explained to the cat with a soft, gentle voice as Shrimp turned around with a curious tilt of his head. "You are so loved, Shrimpcito. You are loved, cherished, and adored. It doesn't matter how many other cats there are in the world. It doesn't matter how many of them purr, cuddle, or play. Shane loves you for you. No one else can be you. He only wants you. Just you. And that's why he gave you this."

Alan cupped Shrimp's fuzzy head, leaning in while also guiding Shrimp closer to his lips so he could give him a quiet, gentle peck on his nose.

"Mwah," Alan said with a tender smile. He pulled away and adoringly brushed the cat's head, resting his head against the bed again. "That's a sound a kiss makes. Mwah."

Shrimp's purring was deeper, happier than Shane thought he'd ever heard it before, and it brought new happy tears to his eyes to know that his cat felt adored in this way. He laughed, not even minding the way his eyes watered as he scratched behind Shrimp's ears.

"Shrimpcito's got to be the most adorable name I've ever heard for him," he whispered to Alan with a wide smile.

Alan continued to pet Shrimp's back, listening to his meows but then fixing his attention back to Shane, his gaze melting with tender affection. He took a moment to search Shane's glossy eyes, softly smiling.

"He says he loves us both," he whispered back.

Shane let out a soft laugh, meeting his gaze blurrily, still smiling wide enough that his cheeks hurt. "Who knew I had such a loving cat," he said softly.

"I'm not surprised," Alan said just as softly, delicately reaching his hand up to Shane's face so he could wipe the tears falling down his cheek. "It's so easy to adore you."

Shane sniffed a little, almost impossibly overwhelmed by the feeling of his heart swelling in his chest, like it couldn't contain all the warmth and affection he felt. "He's right to adore you too," he breathed, smiling brighter.

"I've really only just started getting to know him," Alan said with a gentle smile, catching another tear. Hand grazed against Shane's cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. "I still have so much to discover."

"I can tell you about him," Shane said with a laugh. "And then he can tell you anything I'm wrong about."

"Okay," Alan said with a warm smile, pulling his hand away but keeping his gaze totally fixed on Shane.

"Well," Shane said, scratching under Shrimp's chin, but continuing to meet Alan's gaze while thinking of where to start. "His favorite food is tuna, and he has a sixth sense for when there's some in the house. He can't have too much of it at a time because of mercury levels... but he always gets a little, because we love him. I always love how happy he gets when he gets a bite." Shane paused, letting out a soft laugh. "Then of course, there's the times before that when he somehow gets into the fridge and stands protectively in front of the tuna. I don't know how he does it. He's very smart."

Alan patted Shrimp's head, repeating the gist of everything Shane said, asking Shrimp of his own thoughts. Shrimp, whose ears had perked up at the word "tuna", yowled back, with Alan listening intently.

"I can confirm that that he loves tuna," he said when Shrimp finished, smiling at Shane.

"I had a feeling after so many years of him begging at the kitchen counter," Shane said with a grin, booping Shrimp's nose.

Shrimp meowed, his paw thumping Shane's nose back. Shane laughed.

"Feels fitting for Shrimp to like eating fish, considering his name," Alan mused.

"It is," Shane agreed. "He understands which fish to treat like animals and which to treat like food, though, instead of trying to turn the animals into food. He's very fascinated by fish in a bowl, but he never tries to get them. I think they're his friends."

But Alan didn't translate this for Shrimp, instead smiling in the silence that followed. Shane wanted more of the way he was looking at him, whatever it was.

"One of his other favorite people is my first cousin, Phoebe," Shane went on softly. "I talked to her through the camera the other day. She was the one who looked after Shrimp for a couple days before he got delivered to the island, and she's very sweet with him. She's deaf, so she doesn't really talk out loud to Shrimp in the same way that I do, but they've got some really impressive silent communication strategies that even I'm not used to replicating." Shane smiled. "And yes, he gets a lot of pets from her too."

Alan had his undivided attention on Shane, taking in every word, soaking in it like he was committing it to memory. But before either of them could react further, there was a sudden knock on the door.

Three slow taps. Not urgent, but Shane already knew who it was. He lifted his head, but didn't sit up.

"Everything okay, James?" he called.

"Yeah," he responded through the door. "Just wanted to let you know that Eve woke up. She's okay and wanted to come over. She's helping to make dinner downstairs."

"That's good," Shane called back. "Thanks for letting me know."

"You okay?" James asked, a little softer.

Shane looked back at Alan, flashing him another soft smile as Alan idly pet the cat. He smiled back, though seemed a bit hesitant.

"I'm okay, don't worry," he promised.

There was a brief silence on the other side of the door. "Okay," he said. "I'm going to use the shower. Do you need the bathroom?"

"Nope, go ahead," Shane said. Hopefully he'd manage to get all that paint off.

"Thanks," was all James said before Shane heard his footsteps cross the hall, and the bathroom door close.

Shane lowered his head back to the bed, looking back at Alan with a soft warm smile.

"You should eat," Alan suggested softly.

"I honestly don't need food," Shane said with a smile. "But if you're hungry, I'm willing to go downstairs and grab you a plate of whatever hopefully cheese-free thing Eve has made."

Alan smiled, cupping Shane's face with his thumb brushing over his dimple. This only lasted for a brief moment before he pulled away, hand laying back down on the bed.

"I appreciate it. You really should eat, though. Don't let me get in the way of that," he said, then paused. "And it sounds like James is worried about you. It wouldn't hurt to check in on him, especially since he stopped by for you."

Shane nodded after a few moments, still smiling warmly. "I can," he said softly. "If I do, do you want to stay up here and keep Shrimp company until I get back?"

Alan gave two brisk pats on top of Shrimp's head, smiling back. "I'm already cozy in your clothes. I'm not going anywhere."

Shane grinned, blowing another kiss to Shrimp before sitting up, watching the two of them with adoration. "Perfect. I'll be back before you know it."
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni

"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace

"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter

silver (she/they)




User avatar
147 Reviews
Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 10085
Reviews: 147
Sat Jan 13, 2024 1:00 am
View Likes
Carina says...



Meat. Eve could cook meat.

Well... not really. But Giggle could. Therefore, she could cook meat.

James liked cheese. He liked carbohydrates. He liked meat. There was a simple meal that combined all of these together: spaghetti with garlic bread and extra meatballs.

Eve knew his favorite food was lasagna, and if timing wasn't as critical, she would have been receptive to making this for him. But he had to eat, and he had to eat fast. He was showering now, and ideally the food would be ready by the time he came down. Spaghetti was quick and simple to make. All she had to do was boil all the spaghetti noodles they had, use up all the tomato sauce in the pantry, and put all the meatballs and garlic breads they had in the freezer.

Conveniently, all the ingredients were there. They weren't fresh, of course, but it was like the DMV knew that the ideal situation would be to throw everything together to appease his stomach.

No. They did know this. Eve was past guessing what they know or didn't know. It was safe to assume that the DMV knew everything now.

After filling the giant pot of water to bring to a boil, Eve dug through their pantry to take out all the spaghetti noodles she could find.

She hoped Connie wouldn't walk in to see the meal she was making. From stories she had read online, the Talian prince was a snob when it came to pasta. But quality had to be sacrificed to maximize quantity and minimize time.

Holding six boxes of spaghetti noodles in her arms, Eve faltered in her steps as she heard someone coming down the stairs. She whipped her head around, glaring at the shadow coming into view. Relief flooded her when she saw the familiar flannel pattern.

Shane looked... mostly fine. Better than should be expected. His hair was slightly damp, comb marks still visible, and a set of cozy flannel pajamas swamped his thin frame. He wasn't dirty or blood-covered like James, but... hadn't he been? Although, since his hair was damp, he must have showered.

"Shane," she called out, relaxing. But just for a second. She hurried to place all of the noodles on the counter. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Hey, Eve," Shane said softly, coming down the last of the steps. "I'm okay. It's good to see you awake."

"I don't believe you're 'okay,'" she said with a sigh, turning back to the pantry so she could take out all the tomato sauce jars. "James told me everything that happened. I wish I could have been there. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that. It sounds... horrific."

Shane let out a quiet sigh, shrugging in a what-can-you-do sort of way as he joined her in the kitchen. "At the moment, I actually am okay. Although yeah, it was a lot. But I'm more glad than anything that you didn't have to be awake for it."

Eve slowed in taking out one jar at a time, noting the casualty in his voice. Last she saw him in the maze, he was panicking from basically getting buried alive by walking skeletons. And before then, he had completely disassociated from standing next to a grave they had to unbury.

And after everything else that happened... now, he was quote-on-quote "okay"?

Holding four jars of tomato sauce, Eve walked over to the island to place them down, not wanting to hold any more and risk dropping it all.

"Did you reunite with your cat?" she asked, studying him again.

Shane nodded. "He's upstairs." He paused a moment, before adding with a tiny smile, "And he's safe."

Eve nodded, sliding the jars closer to the box of noodles. "Where had he been?"

"He was with Alan, who delivered him over," Shane said. "He got Clanny's power, so the two of them could actually talk, and he seemed to be in a great mood. So... Shrimp was not only perfectly safe, but probably also having a good time."

Eve slinked over to the pantry again, taking out more jars of tomato sauce.

Shane reuniting with his cat while catching up with Alan could have been the reason he was more nonchalant than expected. After all, Shane adored his cat, and from the little Eve knew and observed, he seemed to adore Alan as well.

That wasn't any of her business. Though, the world seemed to think it was, since Shane had been heavily scrutinized by the Aphiran government for his "poor judgement" and "distasteful acts" while holding one of the top political roles of the country. Eve had scoured the internet and read many news articles on this, and she wondered how much Shane and Alan knew the extent of it.

From what she could gather from observing their interactions, one or both of them were ignorant, oblivious, or simply didn't care.

There were a million questions to ask Shane. Eve wanted to know about James's transformation, about what this true or false game was about, about the parasite living in James's head. She wanted to know about every detail that she missed because she was asleep.

But perhaps Shane was not the right person for this conversation. If he was already in a good mood after the psychological torture he went through, then she didn't want to sour that.

"It sounds like they were meant to find each other. I'm glad they did, and then found you afterwards," Eve said instead, pulling out four more jars of tomato sauce out of the pantry.

"Me too," Shane said, his smile widening slightly before it dimmed. "It seems like there was a chokehold on the entire event, I guess."

Eve slid the jars on the kitchen island, looking up to study him for a moment. She wondered if it was something she said that made him gloomy again.

"If so, then it was likely designed for Alan to keep Shrimp safe and happy. Sometimes, predisposed outcomes can turn out to be for the best," she said.

Shane nodded, smiling faintly again. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm really, really glad nothing happened to him."

Eve walked back to the counter, taking out the last of the four jars.

Maybe they didn't need to talk about the maze after all.

"Shane," she called over her shoulder, "can you do me a favor? Can you cook all the meatballs? And whatever other meat would be good for spaghetti."

"Of course," Shane said, moving over to the freezer and taking out a bag.

Eve took out a pan for him, watching him open up the bag for a second. She moved past him, opening all the boxes of pasta.

"How have you been doing?" she asked, ignoring how painful that was to ask. Small talk. "Because... you know. Being a major political figure while also being forced on this godforsaken island seems... challenging."

Shane looked up with the faintest of smiles, shrugging lightheartedly. "Oh, it's... weird. But I'm trying to be normal about it. I feel like my status receives a lot of attention, but I'd like for it to stop being the first thing people think of me as. The only times it's felt like it mattered on this island were the few calls from home."

Eve nodded, dumping one box of the spaghetti into the giant pot of boiling water. "That's understandable. You're more than your role, after all. It's a shame that status can erase that." She glanced at him. "Do you still have your responsibilities on the island?"

"Not unless a state of emergency is declared, which..." Shane laughed faintly. "Hopefully not."

Eve opened and slid in the next packet of spaghetti into the water. "So, essentially, this summer is one bizarre vacation to you," she commented.

"It is," Shane agreed. "Probably the longest one I'll have for many years, most likely."

Eve huffed out some air. "My condolences that the worst vacation imaginable took that role."

Shane smirked a little. "I don't know about that. Some of the people are pretty great," he said gently.

Eve slowed as she rustled another box of spaghetti in the water. "How or who have you been spending your time with, anyways?" she asked casually.

Shane blinked, looking up from the oven as he preheated it. "I branched out a bit this week," he said carefully. "A lot of it was spent between you, James, and Alan, but there was also plenty of time with Lyall, Hild, Cyrin, Clanny, Connie..." He waved a hand. "You get the idea."

Eve finished putting in the last box of spaghetti in the water, which was now murky with starches. She opened a few drawers, trying to find a ladle to stir the pasta.

Shane didn't really leave his cabin much this week, and neither did James. It made sense that they would bond closely with one another.

Everyone else, though...

"That's a fair amount of people," she said just as carefully as she watched him from the corner of her eye, fishing out the ladle. "Do you think you'll keep in touch with everyone when you leave the island?"

"I hope," Shane said softly. "As long as they'll want to, of course."

"I don't see why not. You are pleasant to talk to," Eve said matter-of-factly, now stirring the noodles with the ladle.

Another smile flickered over Shane's face. "Thank you. Hopefully it'll all work out for that to happen."

A slight pause followed his words as Eve racked her head to think of something else to talk about and fill the silence.

"Not to change the subject," Shane said quietly, saving her from that, "but I had a question about the maze."

Eve flicked her eyes towards him as she readied all the jars of tomato sauce to open. So it seemed he was open to talking about what happened after all.

"What is it?" she said.

"When the three of us were unconscious," Shane said slowly, "Cyrin was able to wake up James and I up. Did you not see them at all, or...?"

Eve furrowed her brows and stared down at the jar as she attempted to grapple it open, but to no avail. But continually trying to open the jar was a nice distraction to think of a proper answer.

"No," she said firmly, scowling as she tried to twist off the lid while holding the jar with her other hand. "I didn't."

"Not at all?" Shane asked, a frown evident in his voice.

Eve shook her head, clutching the jar against her chest now so she had more grippage to pry it open. Or at least, try to.

"No," she said again.

Something was placed on the counter next to her by Shane-- a pair of silicone oven gloves, for better grippage. Eve flicked Shane an appreciative glance, taking the gloves so she could retry opening these jars.

Still, it wouldn't budge. But Eve noted that the jars had metallic lids, so she had a different idea.

She scurried over to the sink with the glove and jar, running the faucet at the knob turned to the hottest water setting. Hand under the water, she had to pull away since it heated up strangely fast. Eve tilted the lid of the jar towards the water, spinning it in her hands so that the heat of the water could reach all of the metal.

After a couple of seconds, she turned off the faucet and quickly dried the jar with a nearby kitchen towel. Slipping her hand back in the glove, she gave the jar another twist.

Pop. Finally. Thermal expansion and applying increased surface area seemed to do the trick.

"Nice work," Shane said softly, starting to set out the meatballs on a baking sheet.

Eve sighed, sliding the opened jar aside so she could repeat this process... eleven more times.

"I hate jars," she mumbled.

"The feeling's mutual," Shane agreed.

He went back to the meatballs for a moment, but then paused, looking down at his work.

"Seems strange that you didn't see them," he said, clearly not done thinking about the earlier subject, though Eve didn't know why. She wished he would drop it. "I would trust them to try."

"It wasn't Cyrin's magic to begin with. I don't blame him for not having full control," Eve said after opening the next jar, giving Shane a side glance to gauge his reaction.

His eyebrows were raised, face settled in a dubious frown. It was obvious he didn't believe the suggestion.

Or he didn't believe her.

"He didn't seem to be lacking control," Shane said.

"How do you know that? That's speculation," Eve said, trying to soften her words and stare, even if she was focused on the jars. "Did you talk to them? What did they say?"

"I did talk to them," Shane said, his words a little slower now. "They were very calm and self-assured. Not floundering with their powers or having any difficulties. He didn't say very much about his own situation, but it was evident he was going to attempt to wake all three of us up."

Eve didn't really know what Shane wanted her to say here. Was he trying to get her to explain why that happened? Was he digging at some answer? Or did he already know, and he just wanted to taunt her until she admitted it?

She opened the next jar with an aggressive pop.

"What put us to sleep?" she asked firmly instead.

"I thought it happened when we all went under the surface," Shane said.

"But what put us to sleep? Do you know?" she pressed.

The oven beeped, signaling it had been preheated, and Shane looked up at her slowly, confusion painted on his face.

"...No," he said finally. "Not past that guess."

So he didn't know.

Eve had a nagging feeling that it was some kind of magic-influenced spell that put Shane and James to sleep. As for herself, it was some kind of drug, like chloroform, as James suggested.

But of course, neither of them knew what put them to sleep. How could they? They were asleep and too busy processing that they were getting buried alive. That much Eve could understand, considering she went through the same treatment.

She sighed, opening another jar and staring down at it.

"James mentioned that you got hurt," she said steadily, now turning towards him, free of distractions. "He said you healed because you had his magic, but..." She paused, tensing. "Are you okay?"

Shane's expression fell a little, and he looked back down at the tray, picking at the tray. "I'm fine," he said quietly.

"Are you sure?" she asked again for confirmation.

Shane simply nodded, pulling the oven open and shoving in the tray, setting a timer on the clock stove.

Eve didn't believe him. But it was common to say you're fine when it hardly wasn't.

"It's okay if you're not," she said, maintaining her serious gaze. "I think it's cruel what the DMV put you through. I wish I could have done something so that you didn't have to go through that." She sighed before continuing. "I'm sorry you had to endure all of that needless pain, Shane. You of all people deserve to be protected."

Shane sighed quietly, his shoulders sinking. "Thanks. I guess... it'll all be sorted out once this episode airs."

"I doubt they'll air this episode without some kind of censorship," Eve said with a huff, bending down to rummage through their pots and pans cupboard. "We can only take care of each other and ourselves."

That statement gave Shane pause, however, and he turned back to her slowly. "What?"

Eve pulled out their largest sauce pan, standing back up as she met his eyes, feeling the pent-up anxiety behind them.

"Nothing. Never mind. I'm just being cynical," she said dismissively, setting the pan on top of the burner in front of the boiling noodles. "We'll get through this together."

"No, wait," Shane said, holding up a hand as he stared at her. "Censorship."

Eve hesitated. "It's just speculation. I don't think the DMV would air a violent episode, nevertheless one that included hurting a political figure. Do you?"

"But then, it's as if it never happened," Shane said quietly. "That's a coverup."

"And they'll get away with it, too," Eve said with a low voice.

She hated that they always did.

Shane raised a hand to his face and rubbed his jaw, no longer staring at her. Instead, his gaze had unfocused into the middle distance.

"So, most punitively, that was attempted assassination of a government official, violation of diplomatic protection, battery on a protected figure, endangerment, infliction of bodily harm, and unaggravated assault," he said quietly. "Even taking into account that they made sure I'd live, through the powers they gave me, that's still the last five charges."

He lowered his hands.

"Except it'll be none of them," he said with finality, defeated.

Eve let out a puff of air through her nose, emptying a jar onto the heated saucepan. Shane knew the law well, though this hardly surprised her, concerning his role.

"That's minimum forty years of prison," she said after tallying the charges in her head. "With life imprisonment being the maximum charge, of course." She sighed, shaking the remainder of the jar above the pan. "But of course, that will never happen without a physical body to make these charges against. Soulless corporations often get away with evil acts because there's no one to blame. The blame is distributed across the collective decision making of a company, which hinders the blow. There is never righteous prosecution against those who believe they are above the law. Those who suffer never receive the justice they deserve."

Shane nodded vacantly, still staring off. "Right," he said quietly. "Even though there's only a handful of people who could have arranged it, in reality."

"And no proof of it, either. If there's no documentation trail, it never happened. And so nothing is done," Eve said with a clenched jaw, firmly setting the jar against the counter.

Shane sighed, burying his face in his hands. "And I can't tell anyone off this island without it seeming like baseless accusations, which is criminal libel. I lose my credibility that way. I won't be trusted to weigh in on any matters relating to the DMV, which I very well may have to, starting the week this is all over."

Eve didn't need to ask. She knew exactly what he was referring to.

The DMV was intentional. She had wondered why political figures like Connie and Shane were dragged into this show when they had other, frankly, more important things to be doing. After reading countless news articles and scouring through pages upon pages of public government hearings that mentioned "DMV" for Aphirah and Talia, she conveniently found that both Shane and Connie were the deciding vote to contract the DMV for another decade.

And it was awfully strange that they would try to influence him by torturing him.

"Shane," she called gravely, making rapid-fire connections in her head as the seriousness of the situation sunk in further. She turned to him more squarely, wanting him to understand the weight of her words. "Do not pass that vote. You have witnesses that can speak on your behalf. Fight back. Don't sign the vote." She paused, her brows pinched together with worry. "Document everything. Write it down. Take a picture. Record. You can't trust your memory. Not when the DMV has a staff member who wipes memories. They will manipulate--"

"Who?" Shane asked suddenly, pulling his hands away from his face and staring at her. "Who here can wipe memories?"

Eve faltered, realizing maybe she shouldn't have said that. She managed to get this information from Dante, but perhaps she should have kept that to herself.

"It's-- you don't need to worry about that," she said quickly. "Again, this is speculation. I'm just--"

"No, I really might need to," Shane cut in hurriedly. "I've already forgotten something."

Eve blankly stared at him. "What do you mean, you've already forgotten something?"

"Someone," Shane said quietly. "As in, there's a person I used to know who doesn't exist in my memory at all now."

This was a new development. Eve stared fiercely at him, racking her head for a possible name.

"Who?" she spat out. "Why? And who did this? The DMV?"

"One thing at a time," Shane mumbled, sighing quietly. "So, the who. I..."

He took a deep breath, looking at Eve with a hesitant, almost fearful expression.

"Alexandra Harlow?" he finished softly, as if he almost wasn't sure of the name.

Well. Suddenly things made a lot more sense.

"Your fiancé?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Apparently," Shane said quietly. "Or ex-fiancé, as I've heard."

Eve knew the name. She knew they dated. What happened after that, she admittedly didn't know. She hardly followed celebrity news unless it applied to law or technology.

"So..." Eve shook her head, deciding it wasn't appropriate to ask if they were still dating. "When did this happen? What do you remember?"

Shane parted his lips, but didn't speak for a few moments.

"I don't know," he said finally. "Everything I've heard is from James. He said we split up a couple months ago, but I don't remember anything at all. I didn't even know she existed until a few days ago. All I have to go on is that maybe-- maybe-- it's got nothing to do with the DMV at all, and it's actually my uncle."

If that was the case...

"Why did you break up? Do you remember anything about it?" Eve asked.

Shane shook his head helplessly.

Eve was quiet for a moment, picking up the ladle and stirring the pot again. "Have you tried looking it up? Or, better yet, reaching out to Alexandra directly for answers?"

Shane wilted.

"I don't want to do either of those things," he said weakly.

"I can do it for you," Eve offered. "Do you want answers?"

"Yes. No. I--" Shane shook his head. "My point was, I already can't trust my memory, because I've thought I was single for the last seven years, when I was apparently not. I don't know who's messing with me, or what they want from me, but I'm unreliable. I said I didn't know who Alexandra was in public this week, and people must have picked up on that back home. If I start trying to fight this battle with evidence I don't have, it's a matter of time before everyone starts wondering if I'm insane or fit to be Heir." Shane took a deep breath. "And I'm not insane."

Eve placed a hand on his shoulder to help calm him. "You're not, Shane. You're not insane. There's a small list of clinically insane people on this island, and you're not one of them," Eve said assuringly, then pulled her hand back. "I don't have all of the answers right now, but you don't have to figure this out alone. We can figure it out together. Okay? You, me, and James." She glanced back at the giant pot of noodles. "Starting with a twenty thousand calorie feast."

Shane nodded, even though there was little hope to it. "Right," he said quietly, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

Eve knew this wasn't comforting enough. What could she do to help? To help him feel better? Let him feel like the situation wasn't hopeless?

"Can we hug?" she asked softly.

Shane nodded after a moment, with a faint, sad smile. "Of course," he said quietly.

Eve stepped in with her arms out, wrapping them around Shane's chest. She perched her head over his shoulder, taking in a deep, exaggerated breath so he could feel it too. She briefly closed her eyes, giving him a gentle squeeze. Shane hugged her back, returning the comforting squeeze.

"I know things seem dire right now, but I know we will get through this," she said softly. "You have allies. Friends. Remember that you're not alone. You don't have to do this by yourself. You shouldn't. Not when you have others by your side. Maybe you can't completely trust your memories right now, but I know you'll always remember that. You'll always remember that we're here for you. And we're not going anywhere."

She felt the deep breath Shane took, and he squeezed her gently for a moment. "Thank you," he whispered softly, his words a little shaky.

Eve chose to believe that these were words he needed to hear. But she wondered if there was something else. Something else he needed to hear to feel better.

Because Shane had endured so, so much. The grief of loss and pain weighed heavy in his words since day one. She could hear it in his words, in person and in government hearings.

Shane was still processing the immensely deep tragedy with the loss of parents in a shocking accident. There was no closure. There was no end. He was forced to move forward, start a new life with no time to transition, no time to process. He had no choice in the matter.

And now? Now Shane was being heavily scrutinized. Scrutinized for existing, essentially: for loving, for moving on, for not being good enough.

When was it enough? Was it ever enough? Was he ever going to be good enough? Good enough for the world? His government? His people? His family? His friends? The DMV?

Was he good enough for himself?

Eve hugged him a little tighter and tightly closed her eyes, feeling her heart ache.

"Your parents would be so proud of you," she whispered.

Shane didn't say anything at first, but the next breath he took was more shuddery, and he hugged back a little tighter as well.

"I'm really glad you're on my side, Eve," he said quietly. "You don't know how much it means."

Eve perched her chin on top of his shoulder, idly rubbing her hand against his back. She did her best to keep steady, deep breaths.

"...I'm sorry again for yelling at you before," she said softly, thinking back to when they were arguing about shrimp and also when they were smashing all the bugs. She still felt so guilty. "I won't do it again. I don't want to hurt your feelings."

Shane let out a soft, faint laugh, and she felt him shaking his head. "It's okay, Eve, really. I know you don't."

"Still, I-- I shouldn't have done that," Eve went on, finally pulling away. She stared at the sauce jars, brushing back a strand of wet hair behind her ear. "Just... let me apologize anyways."

"Okay," Shane said softly, smiling faintly. "I hear you, and you're forgiven."

Eve smiled faintly as well, flicking her eyes towards him a few times before she turned her attention back to the jars, emptying the remaining ones on the sauce pan.

"Glad we can settle this now so you don't have to take me to court," Eve said as a joke, but inwardly cringed at her own words. "Not that I'm saying you should court me. Or..."

She wanted to die right here, right now.

Eve wanted so badly to facepalm and hide, but she instead turned away, letting her hair conceal the embarrassment in her face.

"Can you, um..." she said quickly, trying to think of something else to say. "Can you get the cheese? Cheeses? All of it?"

Shane cracked a smile-- a real smile, almost on its way to a grin-- while nodding, suppressing a laugh on his way to the fridge. "All of it, coming right up."
chaotic lazy
—Omni

the queen of memes
—yosh

secret supreme overlord of yws
—Atticus

saint carina, patron saint of rp
—SilverNight




User avatar
176 Reviews
Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 4030
Reviews: 176
Sat Jan 13, 2024 1:02 am
View Likes
soundofmind says...



James sat in the tub with his head buried in his hands.

Spoiler! :
Image

He didn't feel safe. He never felt safe. Now, he didn't even feel safe in his own head. He didn't even feel safe to take off his clothes. To scrub himself down. To get clean.

James knew he'd have to get over it just like he always did. Life had to be lived and things would keep moving on without him. People would notice if he was off, even a tad. Pulling himself together was a lifetime practice he'd learned to do at his lowest moments, but he'd never been able to just let himself break. Because if he did, he didn't think he'd ever come back from it.

Keeping his eyes pinched shut, James curled up for just a little longer, letting the water from the showerhead pound against his back, through his shirt, soaking him through. He didn't really care that his clothes were getting wet, when the rest of him was already covered in everything else.

Exhausted, James still fought to guard his thoughts. Think about nothing. Nothing much. As little as possible, for now, so that he could at least feel a moment's rest.

"Now that we're finally alone," Constantine began with an airy hum, "let's take a looksie...""

No. No. He knew Eve encouraged talking to Constantine, but James didn't want to do this. He hugged himself a little tighter.

"Ahh, here we are," the wendigo said playfully, as if he was rummaging through a box of trinkets. "What is Lieutenant James Hawke trying so hard to bury, hm?"

A creeping, cold presence crawled over him. It felt like the claws of a creature curling inside of him, around his mind. He couldn't shake it. It was like he was stuck in a bramble of bushes, but the thorns were tongs of ice.

Stop digging, James asked, or rather begged, knowing it wouldn't change Constantine's mind.

"Oh, what a lovely little family!" Constantine cooed. "There is quite the striking resemblance between you and Miss Larrel. Who do you take after more: your mother, or your father?"

James's heart faltered. He could feel the wendigo's presence setting into his mind like a winter freeze. It was painful. He didn't know how to push it away again.

"Father it is," Constantine hummed. "What's his name?[/]"

Frowning deeply, James knew he couldn't keep the answer back without Constantine finding it anyway.

[i]Allen,
he answered weakly. Why do you care about my family?

"I'm merely taking a sincere interest," Constantine said with a pout in his voice, echoing earlier sentiments.

"Having an interest isn't the same as caring," James said quietly.

"Semantics," Constantine said dismissively.

James just shrunk down at that, staring at his feet as water continued to soak him through, partially washing dirt and pumpkin splatter onto the tub floor.

I suppose, James said. If I asked you about your family, there's no way for me to determine if it's a lie.

"I suppose not," Constantine said noncommittally. "Still, you're free to ask."

"Can you tell me about them?" James asked quietly.

A brief silence lapsed between them, as Constantine was likely deciding what to say. Or opting not to answer at all.

Eventually, he relented and answered, "My father was a conquerer, and my mother an oracle, from times far preceding yourself. Both of their lives ended when he waged a war he could not win."

How young were you when you lost them? James inquired.

Constantine hummed. "Perhaps closer to your age, actually."

So that meant... Constantine was ancient.

"Getting on in my years," the wendigo huffed with offense, "but still young in spirit."

"I only meant that you've been around for a while," James said under his breath. "But... I'm sorry about your parents."

Constantine huffed again. "Nevermind that. It was years ago."

What did they war against? James asked.

Tutting, Constantine said, "No, no. Your turn. The world knows about Lieutenant Hawke's grand sacrifice, throwing Nye's political landscape into turmoil. I want to know about James Hawke's time spent as a soldier."

James withered under the question. The permeating grip of Constantine's presence in his mind told him that if Constantine really wanted this information, he'd get it by any means necessary. No matter the pain caused to him.

Constantine asking, however unwarranted and unearned, was the most painless route available to him. But that didn't mean he didn't still despise it.

He felt himself wither even more. He stared emptily at the tub's floor.

What is it you want to know? he asked.

Constantine sighed as he thought. "Surely you had good friends," he said, "comrades from those times, yes? And-- don't get me wrong, I understand when the past simply isn't at the forefront of your mind..."

The memories flicking to life pained him. James didn't want to think about them, but flashes of faces came to his mind. Ingrid - pale, with her long, dark hair. Kirk, and his cocky smile. Hellen, and her fiery red hair, and her masterful air manipulation. Fonzi, as he constantly cracked jokes.

It took effort to push them back down.

"But, see, the fact that such memories--"

A sharp, stabbing pain pierced through James's skull.

Constantine was forcing the memories back to the surface. And as he violently did so, it felt like a lid popped off of a jar that couldn't be put back on.

"--have been actively locked away," Constantine went on, tone still light and curious, "simply makes one wonder even more."

James curled over in pain. Memories didn't just come back with information. What he'd been trying to keep back were the emotions.

Suddenly, it felt like everything hurt. His heart ached almost unbearably. The pain of loss, betrayal, and grief stuck through him like a knife, reopening an old wound that had never healed properly, and now it was nearly agonizing.

The one name he was desperately trying not to think about roared to the forefront of his mind, and he saw Carter - one moment, extending his hand as a friend - and the next, on the outside of James's cell doors. In a courtroom. Lawyered up, with any former warmth in his eyes replaced with dead, cold resentment.

"Ooh, I never would have guessed!" Constantine said with cruel delight. "Betrayal! Turning your back on the one you once called friend."

James felt the true sting of tears in his eyes for the first time in a long time. He didn't count the manipulation he'd undergone at Ooktoberfest. That wasn't him. That wasn't real.

But this, this was too real. Of all the physical pain he'd ever endured, the betrayal of his friends turning their backs on him had always hurt the most. It didn't even compare.

Please, James begged again. I don't want to talk about this. I can't.

"Thank you for indulging me," Constantine said sweetly. "I have all I need from you. For now."

What did that even mean? Why did Constantine need this in the first place?

"You know what? Here's a little extra something for your troubles," the monster said pleasantly.

His icy grip on James's mind tightened, and his presence was so palpable for a moment that it felt like he was physically looming over him.

"To answer your question: my father waged his final war," Constantine said lowly, "against me."

Then, humming a laugh, his frigid presence finally receded again, to the small space at the far back of James's mind. "Ciao."

But it didn't mean anything to James anymore to know. The damage Constantine wreaked was already done. It felt like someone had run through his mind and torn it apart, and James didn't know how to make it right again. What had formerly felt stable was now like a shaky foundation. Everything felt raw, and the pain of old memories was fresh, like it'd happened only yesterday. And maybe it had.

It had only been a year since he got out.

Hugging his knees even tighter, James curled up, trying to fight the tears springing up, but he quickly lost that battle.

Under the sprinkle of the shower-head, James cried. And it took him some time to collect himself.

It felt like an eternity before James finally managed to find the werewithal within himself to get up again. He was dissociating, and he knew the empty feeling as he stepped out of the shower. He peeled out of his soaking wet clothes and went back in to scrub himself down, letting the hollow sensation fill his chest where an emotion should be.

The dirt came off easiest. The pumpkin splatter was surprisingly difficult. It was sticky, and it got stuck in his hair. The paint took the longest. Scraping it away like a layer of skin, he couldn't help but feel like all of this was familiar, as he'd been in this same position only a week ago, scraping away layers of red and pink. Scrubbing and scrubbing until he felt human again. As if that would get rid of the memory of it.

When he was finally clean and in a fresh set of clothes, he stared into the mirror with an unfocused gaze. He couldn't help but feel like he was outside of himself. The person in the mirror wasn't the person he was a year ago, or three years ago. Even though he could never sustain any injuries, the stress still made itself known in his eyes. He'd never had dark circles before all of this. Now they were just there. Always.

Sighing, he brushed his hand through the layers of choppy hair, trying not to recall the spiral of delirium that he'd found himself in when he chopped it away. He knew despite the shower that he still looked ragged, but there was little he could do about it now. He'd stopped caring about appearances... or rather, impressions. The only thing he could find energy to care for was his beard, which he trimmed quickly after picking out the last few paint splatters hidden in there.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom and cleaned up after himself, he was walking around in an big, oversized, brightly tye-died shirt that said: "WORLD PEAS," on it, with a picture of a pea-pod. It was something familiar, even if it was ridiculous, and it felt big enough to hide in. Since he couldn't actually hide from any of this.

He padded down the stairs, drawn by the smell of pasta, tomato sauce, and meat. The smell was more alluring than usual, as the hunger in his gut roared in response. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw the meal in question, being prepared by Shane and Eve.

Eve was straining giant piles of spaghetti. There was a huge tray of meatballs on the stovetop, alongside a large saucepot of tomato sauce. Almost every form of grated cheese had been taken out of the fridge, and sitting in a bowl, there were slices upon slices of garlic bread.

He could see the steam rising off of them. It was fresh out of the oven.

He didn't know what came over him. But he bypassed any sort of introductory conversation and beelined straight for the bread, dragging the bowl towards him. The small amount of self-control he still excercised was the only thing keeping him from inhaling the food without chewing.

Too tired to feel ashamed, he began stuffing his face as he sat at the counter.

He realized he'd barely even registered Shane and Eve's presence - nevermind their reactions - until the bread was gone.

It felt like... he'd eaten that so fast. How fast had he eaten all of that? How on earth was he still hungry?

"Do you want more bread?" Eve asked, leaning against the counter with a half-eaten garlic bread piece she must have taken before James came downstairs.

James blinked out of his tunnel-visioned daze, looking up at Eve for a moment, then down at the bread.

"No," he said. "That's yours."

"I meant--" She placed the bread slice down on a plate. "Yes, I know. I was asking if you wanted more."

James blinked again.

"Right. Uh. No. It's-- I'll wait for the rest of what you're making," he said. "Do you guys need help with anything?"

"Not with the first plate," Eve said, glancing at Shane and beckoning him towards James with her head.

Ceremoniously, Shane set a heaping plate of spaghetti with tomato and meatball suace in front of James, as well as cheese on top and a fork with it.

James stared at the offering with widening eyes, too moved for a moment to actually reach out and take it.

"There's more," Shane offered after a moment.

Trying very hard not to get emotional over a mountain of spaghetti, James nodded, taking the fork and already twisting noodles onto it.

"Thank you both," he said, forcing himself to keep his composure so he didn't look ridiculous. "I'm really grateful for this."

Shane smiled softly. "Eve did most of the work."

"We both wanted you to feel better," Eve said quickly. "They didn't exactly give us dinner."

Mouth already full, James nodded with gratitude. He didn't know how else to express it to them, but it helped immensely to finally have something to satiate the hunger, even if for a moment. It was a great relief.

"Have you eaten yet, Shane?" Eve asked after a brief silence.

Shane paused, then shook his head. "James can have what he wants to first," he added.

Eve stared at the giant pile of cooked noodles. "It's six boxes of spaghetti," she said plainly.

"It's not twelve," Shane said.

James paused in his bites to speak up.

"Take what you want now," he warned. He fully anticipated to eat the rest of it.

Shane hesitated, but seemed to take heed of the warning, and served himself a modest portion.

James glanced at Eve, pausing once again to ask: "Have you eaten?" though he admittedly, still had food in his mouth.

Eve faintly smiled, picking up her slice of bread and nodded. "Now, and also before the maze. Thank you, though. Please eat the rest."

James decided not to argue, and instead nodded. There was a return to silence as Shane also sat down to eat, and between the two of them, neither really stopped to pause. James of course was eating five times Shane's pace, but he was trying not to overthink his eating habits at the moment. On a regular day, he needed a lot more fuel than the average person. This behavior wasn't necessarily new to them - it just had a different reason than they were used to.

While he ate, Eve began to busy herself with cleaning up around the kitchen. She didn't seem to mind, and James had a feeling she needed the busy work after everything that had just happened. James himself was trying not to drown in it.

And just when he was about to clear his plate, Eve came around with another one, setting it beside him along with a paper towel. He assumed he had spaghetti sauce on his face, but he knew it was just going to get on there again until he was done. He offered her a small nod of thanks and kept eating, now on round two.

It took him a total of maybe fourty minutes, he managed to eat all of the spaghetti remaining in the cabin. Which was all of it, aside from Shane's portion and whatever Eve ate prior.

Finally done, though still not quite full, James at least felt a little less deathly hungry, and he picked up the napkin, wiping his mustache where he could feel sauce hanging around.

"How are you doing?" Shane asked softly.

James looked up at Shane, but his eyes quicky dropped down at the napkin in his hands.

He didn't resent that the question was asked, it was merely difficult to reflect on the answer. He'd managed to separate himself from the emotions Constantine forcefully dragged out of him, but the ache still lingered. He felt like he'd been gutted. Made vulnerable when he didn't want to be.

He didn't know how to explain all of that... in light of everything else. But he'd already hesitated for too long. His silence was revealing in and of itself.

"I'm... managing," felt like an insufficient answer, but they were the only words he could find that wouldn't cause immediate alarm.

Maybe it was just that he really didn't want to open that... jar. Again. While Constantine was still around.

Shane nodded, his expression solemn and a little sad. "We'll manage with you," he said gently.

James wanted to add that he missed having his head to himself, but for some reason, he felt guilty for thinking so. Aaron had been living like this for years, and James had only been bearing it for hours. It felt almost unfair to complain. He knew it wasn't helpful to compare, but...

He nodded in turn, unsure of what else to say.

When the silence dragged on for more than a few seconds, though, he tried anyway.

"I don't know if," he started. "I'll um. Sleep much tonight."

A beat.

"Not... asking you stay up or anything," James said. "I'm just... letting you know."

Eve had finished wiping down the counter a few minutes ago, but she was idly wiping it down again anyways.

"I won't be either. So you won't be alone in that," she said, then paused before quickly adding, "Because I slept for so long, I mean."

"I'm going to be honest," Shane said. "I will be crashing."

"You should," James agreed quickly. "It's... late. Really late, actually."

He glanced across the kitchen at the clock over the oven. It was almost 1am. Normally, without his glasses, he couldn't read it, even from here. But the small upside to the powers the wendigo had was that his senses were enhanced. Maybe for him it just meant that his eyesight was normal now.

Speaking of the time, though.

"You don't have to stay here," James reminded Shane. "If you're exhausted, please go get some rest."

He paused, wondering if he should mention that he'd been able to smell Shrimp and Alan in Shane's bedroom. He decided not to mention it for now. Not with Eve in the same room. And honestly, after their day, James wanted to avoid causing Shane any more embarassment.

He'd ask Shane about it in the morning.

"I might," Shane admitted, rubbing at his eyes. "You two going to be alright?"

James tried to offer a smile, but he could feel that it wasn't even near reaching his eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "We'll be okay. Eve already cleaned up the kitchen, anyway."

He glanced at her. "Thank you," he added.

"You're very welcome," she said quietly, then nodded at Shane. "Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow."

Shane flashed them a quick, faint smile. "I'll see you then."

He'd already washed his dishes, so he stood up, quietly taking the stairs up. James heard the creak of his door opening and closing behind him.
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.
- Dr. Mind







Noelle, you can lead a writer to their computer and give them coffee, but you can't make them write.
— CowLogic