[incredible odds, sure. but that just means that there's absolutely no way none of them killed.
mizu's mood isn't as rancid as richie's, but it is still decidedly grim. a weary sort of anger over everything that's happened and everything that's yet to come.]
If they killed again, yes. Perhaps we'll catch them this time.
Maybe longer infection means they'll be sloppier. [Or they are just desperate for death oocly, who knows.] I don't have any suspicious bruises, by the by.
[The music idles on behind their weekly conversation. They follow the same beats as all the last and Bowie underpins it with a hollow melancholy.
For years and years, I roamed I gazed a gazely stare At all the millions here We must have died alone A long, long time ago...
For once it brings him no peace. Richie grimaces and lifts the needle, regarding the spinning disc with an undefined frustration.]
...You ever realize how cheap the things that feed you are, midway through a bite?
[Sorry, Starman. This ain't the time or place it seems. He'll make it up to you someday.]
Neither do I. [or else she would be so much more angry than she is right now.] Nor anyone else I've spoken to from the crowd at the tavern. Or at least, none they've admitted to.
[she glances at the sound equipment with the look of someone who absolutely does not get the appeal of david bowie. goodbye, sir. she will not be looking forward to hearing from you again.]
... Speak plainly. [bluntly, but not... trying to be an asshole here.] Something is bothering you. Even more than what's usual on a Friday. What is it?
[This is heartbreaking...Mizu he was a legend you don't understand.
His lips thin though, at the callout. Carefully he pries the record off and tucks it back into its sleeve. Switches the damn thing off while he's at it.]
...Fidelio, Anders, and Shadowheart went to my hometown yesterday. For their little field trip.
They'd all seen...they got bits and pieces of the picture, last week. But I don't think I said enough. Not enough to help.
[Which might seem silly. They both know how immediate and consuming those trips can be. Might not have made a difference at all.
No. [Mizu's right. Richie knows she is, and so was he when he talked to other people and shook them up over their own misplaced guilt.
It just won't stop sticking, though. He scrubs a hand over his face.]
I just...fucking hate this place. How it swizzles a spoon around your brain and scoops up the worst shit in there just to fling at you. At other people — I could manage if it was just me. I can't stand that It hurt them, too.
Bad enough that we didn't finish the job back in the day. That more kids...that much is our fault. We thought we followed through, and we didn't. Now we get to pay for it in life and death alike. Fucking incredible.
It's the nature of this place. Or what it's become, with this... interloper. Our own memories are weapons to be wielded by somebody else. But the longer you spend wallowing in your own pity, the less time you'll have to take action. I doubt any of them would want your apologies, anyway.
[not necessarily trying to be mean about his guilt, but she is blunt about it. del, anders and shadowheart don't seem like the type who would want him to feel bad over it, anyway. that said... hm. raising an eyebrow at him.]
They didn't. [Because of course he gave them. Reflexive, but also commiserative. They looked like they'd been through the meat grinder.] But you have a point.
[A layer strips off the swirl of negativity. For now at least. Moods come and go, and they're not moving onto bigger and brighter things tomorrow.
[Oh, she can judge. It doesn't stop the funny, bitter smile from creaking across his cheeks. He meets her eyes with a strange brand of resignation. Grief. Low-thrumming dread.]
On any other occasion, I'd whole-heartedly agree — except it's not something you fight with force. It's more about pliability of the mind. Easier to confront the unbelievable when you're young and willing to believe. As grown men and women...
[He trails off. Looks to the side with a sigh.]
As kids, we came down to square off against it and all seven of us walked out of there with our skins in tact. Scared to death, but alive.
This time? There's about three left. Four, if we're lucky and Mike pulls through. I don't know. Maybe it picked the rest of them off after taking care of me.
...Guess I'll have to find out at the end of our funny little program.
the way she immediately thinks about the stupid apples, but that's not something she should suggest and not something that should be an option at all. shouldn't even be on the map.
there's a twinge of something awful when he describes the situation before he died. concerned and almost scared for him. but he won't see any of it on her face.]
... I don't understand. [the fact that children would have an easier time squaring off against it, as opposed to grown ass adults. it's boggling.] What is it about your enemy that makes it much more dangerous to you now? What do you need to believe in?
[Unfortunate, but the same thought has tugged at his mind more than once. Not enough to persuade him, but you don't go starving for weeks and staunchly ignore a steak dangled through the cage bars.
Her response triggers something apologetic in him. Not hidden as expertly as anything she feels, there's a twinge at the corner of his mouth that gives him away. But he doesn't speak on it. Best to pretend like they aren't communicating on two layers at once, he finds. Most everyone prefers it that way.]
Honestly, I barely understand myself. It sounds so fucking stupid to speak on it. I wasn't pulling your leg when I said my world was regular — probably a billion to one odds on seeing something truly out of the ordinary. Almost nobody knows.
[Which is the other punch in the dick. No knowledge, no precedence, no help.]
It's sort of...it works with your imagination. Pulls shapes out of your own head — whatever scares you, what's been grating on your mind, that's what it'll be, and that's what will come to kill you. And it's not affected by the world as we know it. It can't be seen unless it lets you see it, and fighting back with brute force doesn't cut it.
You saw a bit yourself. My buddy Bill shot it with the gun and it barely slowed It down, even if he blew a chunk of its skull out. Or what looked like a chunk. Wearing the wound like it was part of the illusion.
But if you fight fire with fire — use your own imagination, play pretend? For some goddamn reason that lays into it better than any knife or bullet can. [There's an unusual brand of embarrassment tied in here, because he knows how utterly cracked he sounds. She'd be in the right to blow him off, if she hadn't watched the same memory he had.
The bullet? Might as well have shot off a rubber band. Richie doing a cockamamie voice out of the blue? Throwing a dumbshit prank powder at it? Well golly, that sure stuck it to him! Richie grimaces and wipes at his face. He'd rather crawl into a dank hole than elaborate, but here we are.]
Kids can do that. Kids can buy into all kinds of shit if you don't knock the wind out of their sails too quick. Grown ups? [He squints, waggles his hand.] Hard to believe in anything you can't touch, buy, or sell.
Which is too bad. It doesn't need you to believe in jack shit to pull your head off your shoulders. It just prefers them young.
[it would honestly be very understandable if he went for it. even if 1) it would not end well and 2) she would drag him back to murder him herself if he got himself executed. but it's fine? it's fine. (beeguns you if this is a death flag)]
... So because you've grown and no longer have a child's imagination, it's harder for you to just believe you have the means to kill it. Even though you know that's what you need to do to fight back against it.
[too bad they can't bring the baby curse back with them.]
In one sense, sure. In another, could you stop in the middle of fighting for your life and convince yourself to do something completely fucking insane? [He waves his hand.] It's fine, it's not like I understand all the logistics either. I don't know why anything does or doesn't work, where that kind of power comes from. I just know that it is.
[There is just so little explanation for anything. He suspects he'll never find out, either. There's cosmic forces at play all right, but not ones that care to make an introduction. He could envy Shadowheart and Anders that.]
Because we hurt it, and we gave it the slip. I don't think It ever knew what it was like for the food to bite back. It didn't much like it.
If I get to go back and pick up where I left off, just try try again. We did have it on its last legs, I think. Maybe Bill and I can make the last blows stick.
If I die again, then...pfft. Fuck it. Better to go out giving it my all rather than live with my tail between my legs.
[And now that he knows some form of afterlife awaits them, maybe death is a touch more palatable.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
mizu's mood isn't as rancid as richie's, but it is still decidedly grim. a weary sort of anger over everything that's happened and everything that's yet to come.]
If they killed again, yes. Perhaps we'll catch them this time.
no subject
[The music idles on behind their weekly conversation. They follow the same beats as all the last and Bowie underpins it with a hollow melancholy.
For years and years, I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare
At all the millions here
We must have died alone
A long, long time ago...
For once it brings him no peace. Richie grimaces and lifts the needle, regarding the spinning disc with an undefined frustration.]
...You ever realize how cheap the things that feed you are, midway through a bite?
[Sorry, Starman. This ain't the time or place it seems. He'll make it up to you someday.]
no subject
[she glances at the sound equipment with the look of someone who absolutely does not get the appeal of david bowie. goodbye, sir. she will not be looking forward to hearing from you again.]
... Speak plainly. [bluntly, but not... trying to be an asshole here.] Something is bothering you. Even more than what's usual on a Friday. What is it?
no subject
His lips thin though, at the callout. Carefully he pries the record off and tucks it back into its sleeve. Switches the damn thing off while he's at it.]
...Fidelio, Anders, and Shadowheart went to my hometown yesterday. For their little field trip.
They'd all seen...they got bits and pieces of the picture, last week. But I don't think I said enough. Not enough to help.
[Which might seem silly. They both know how immediate and consuming those trips can be. Might not have made a difference at all.
Doesn't make him feel less like a grade A turd.]
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[cocking an eyebrow at him, like. are you for real. absolute dumbass. this is not how it works and both of them know it.]
They were children when they came back to us. I doubt they remembered their own lives, much less their afterlives.
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I know, I fucking know. [A flare of frustration, mostly at himself. It's irrational, but it's tied to a guilt of a higher order.]
They weren't children the whole time, by the way. Just long enough to get eaten alive.
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[getting the synopsis for it was not going to save their asses, either way. she sighs, frowning at him.]
But you're welcome to keep flagellating yourself. Would you have Jiaoqiu do the same?
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No. [Mizu's right. Richie knows she is, and so was he when he talked to other people and shook them up over their own misplaced guilt.
It just won't stop sticking, though. He scrubs a hand over his face.]
I just...fucking hate this place. How it swizzles a spoon around your brain and scoops up the worst shit in there just to fling at you. At other people — I could manage if it was just me. I can't stand that It hurt them, too.
Bad enough that we didn't finish the job back in the day. That more kids...that much is our fault. We thought we followed through, and we didn't. Now we get to pay for it in life and death alike. Fucking incredible.
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[not necessarily trying to be mean about his guilt, but she is blunt about it. del, anders and shadowheart don't seem like the type who would want him to feel bad over it, anyway. that said... hm. raising an eyebrow at him.]
Back in the day. You mean when you were a child?
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[A layer strips off the swirl of negativity. For now at least. Moods come and go, and they're not moving onto bigger and brighter things tomorrow.
Meanwhile he frowns. Gives a tight nod.]
...Yeah-huh. Eleven.
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[richie does not need emotion share to know just how ridiculous mizu thinks he's being. not with the flat stare she levels him.]
At 11-years-old, I could have killed the men I am sworn to kill no more than you could have killed that creature. And they are only human.
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On any other occasion, I'd whole-heartedly agree — except it's not something you fight with force. It's more about pliability of the mind. Easier to confront the unbelievable when you're young and willing to believe. As grown men and women...
[He trails off. Looks to the side with a sigh.]
As kids, we came down to square off against it and all seven of us walked out of there with our skins in tact. Scared to death, but alive.
This time? There's about three left. Four, if we're lucky and Mike pulls through. I don't know. Maybe it picked the rest of them off after taking care of me.
...Guess I'll have to find out at the end of our funny little program.
no subject
the way she immediately thinks about the stupid apples, but that's not something she should suggest and not something that should be an option at all. shouldn't even be on the map.
there's a twinge of something awful when he describes the situation before he died. concerned and almost scared for him. but he won't see any of it on her face.]
... I don't understand. [the fact that children would have an easier time squaring off against it, as opposed to grown ass adults. it's boggling.] What is it about your enemy that makes it much more dangerous to you now? What do you need to believe in?
no subject
Her response triggers something apologetic in him. Not hidden as expertly as anything she feels, there's a twinge at the corner of his mouth that gives him away. But he doesn't speak on it. Best to pretend like they aren't communicating on two layers at once, he finds. Most everyone prefers it that way.]
Honestly, I barely understand myself. It sounds so fucking stupid to speak on it. I wasn't pulling your leg when I said my world was regular — probably a billion to one odds on seeing something truly out of the ordinary. Almost nobody knows.
[Which is the other punch in the dick. No knowledge, no precedence, no help.]
It's sort of...it works with your imagination. Pulls shapes out of your own head — whatever scares you, what's been grating on your mind, that's what it'll be, and that's what will come to kill you. And it's not affected by the world as we know it. It can't be seen unless it lets you see it, and fighting back with brute force doesn't cut it.
You saw a bit yourself. My buddy Bill shot it with the gun and it barely slowed It down, even if he blew a chunk of its skull out. Or what looked like a chunk. Wearing the wound like it was part of the illusion.
But if you fight fire with fire — use your own imagination, play pretend? For some goddamn reason that lays into it better than any knife or bullet can. [There's an unusual brand of embarrassment tied in here, because he knows how utterly cracked he sounds. She'd be in the right to blow him off, if she hadn't watched the same memory he had.
The bullet? Might as well have shot off a rubber band. Richie doing a cockamamie voice out of the blue? Throwing a dumbshit prank powder at it? Well golly, that sure stuck it to him! Richie grimaces and wipes at his face. He'd rather crawl into a dank hole than elaborate, but here we are.]
Kids can do that. Kids can buy into all kinds of shit if you don't knock the wind out of their sails too quick. Grown ups? [He squints, waggles his hand.] Hard to believe in anything you can't touch, buy, or sell.
Which is too bad. It doesn't need you to believe in jack shit to pull your head off your shoulders. It just prefers them young.
no subject
... So because you've grown and no longer have a child's imagination, it's harder for you to just believe you have the means to kill it. Even though you know that's what you need to do to fight back against it.
[too bad they can't bring the baby curse back with them.]
Why is it so fixated on your group?
[is it out for revenge...]
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[There is just so little explanation for anything. He suspects he'll never find out, either. There's cosmic forces at play all right, but not ones that care to make an introduction. He could envy Shadowheart and Anders that.]
Because we hurt it, and we gave it the slip. I don't think It ever knew what it was like for the food to bite back. It didn't much like it.
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[absolutely hateful. but, since this is before yves shared the alternate timeline info:]
What do you intend to do?
[because it sounds like he'll just die immediately if he goes home.]
no subject
[He shrugs.]
If I get to go back and pick up where I left off, just try try again. We did have it on its last legs, I think. Maybe Bill and I can make the last blows stick.
If I die again, then...pfft. Fuck it. Better to go out giving it my all rather than live with my tail between my legs.
[And now that he knows some form of afterlife awaits them, maybe death is a touch more palatable.]