#BE NICEYS AT MY FUNERAL PLEASE. PLEASE !!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

byrdstrolls · 5 months ago

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As You Wish

(teehee, this features a lot of guys! tythus from @moonlit-trolls, the lady of the lake from @celestialtrolls, and finala from @roetrolls!)

(Also please be so nicey to me I haven't managed to write anything in three months)

Dear Diary,

Five perigees into my leave from the fleet, a strange calm has overtaken me. I’ve found the eye of the hurricane, or some layer of insanity that hurts less than the first. I’ve started to have lunches in the cafe down the street, on the patio. Dangerous, I know. But I am a pack animal, by nature. I could lock myself in this apartment only for so long without breaking. Sitting there, it’s like being surrounded by people while being alone. Even if I talk to no one but my waiter, it’s better than nothing. There have been close calls, inconsequential ones.

But still too many. I do not think the worker at the place suspects a thing, or would even know what to suspect, how to suspect correctly. I feel like an open wound. But enduring in my silence, none of them can tell. Of all people to have this affliction, it could kill me most surely. I do not trust my fellow troll as far as I could throw one. Now every stranger I meet holds my soul in the palm of their hand. I could die tomorrow. I could not die for sweeps. But what kind of living am I even doing anymore? I am so bored.

The terror has become second nature to me. I learn quickly around fear. I touch a burning stove, I pull back my hand. My only guiding light, relief, is my research. It would be so easy to fail. But I would try a hundred thousand times on the off chance I could have back my life. Even so things move…

…torturously slow. I need to understand what happened to know how to fix it. But I don’t even know where to start. I have wiled away so many hours reading, finding books to read in the bibliographies of other books. But I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t know how to discern esoterica from nonsense, skill from parlor tricks, grifters from sages.

The uniform does not help. One can hardly poke around the city dressed like a fleet officer asking around for magic trolls before those very people start climbing out the back window! It’s too hot for it anyways, even in the cold season. Curse this thing. I will wear it to my funeral. But as I said at the beginning of this entry. Things are just as bad as they have ever been, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I woke up early yesterday, and watched the sun set from the window, sky dancing in fragments through this tiny place. And I felt a certain stillness, and a strange gratitude, that no matter how humbly I lived now, how much I missed other people and my hive and ship and privileges, things could have been worse. I made it nearly half a sweep.

I have been very lucky.

I just need a little more luck now.

Midway through their lunch break, Leftie peaks over the desk of their stand at a figure who has fixed themselves at the front of the alleyway. At first they thought they were exceptionally huge, but on a second glance, they are just significantly huge, and have on an absolute monster of a coat. Probably fleet. They glance at their own signs, the sandwich in their hand, and then pointedly scot over their chair to face the opposite direction.

“Excuse me-” The cerulean says, taking a step forward.

“Excuse me” Leftie retorts. “What does this say?” They say, pointing at the sign on their stand.

“It says closed, back in thirty minutes, but-”

“Exactly” The purple replies. “Leave me alone” They order.

“Nonononono” Viscos mutters under their breath, immediately turning away, walking down the street, they throw up their hands in frustration.

“G-dammit” They mutter, pulling out their journal and crossing Lefties name off a list. All that poking around, and they had failed so quickly, decisively, and immediately.

I shouldn’t have come here, Viscos thinks, but the same protestation entered their mind in a variety of places, from gas stations to libraries to restaurants. So it’s a little more difficult to take it seriously now, even with its precedent. An entire church sect is something more dramatic than some small time magic user. But maybe it was time to be more dramatic, it’s nearly been a half sweep after all, maybe they are this desperate. They can always leave, until they can’t.

“I understand you are not willing to share the details of your affliction with me.” The hulking mass of the purpleblood says, his plague doctor’s mask tilted ever so slightly downward to stare at the fleet troll.

“But is there anything you could deluge… anything at all? How does it affect the body? What organs? How did it begin?” Tythus asks.

Viscos stares up at him for some time.

“No,” They say. “I can’t tell you that.”

“As… impossible a task as you have proposed” The man pauses. “To cure a curse without being told what it is, I would try for you.” He says, templing his hands, then pointing them downward. “All I would ask is you stay some time on our commune, working, to repay your debt to me”

“...here” Viscos mutters vaguely, glancing out the apothecaries window. With all these other trolls?

“Could I serve my time after I’ve been cured?” The cerulean proposes.

“I… need some kind of assurance you would not run off and take advantage of my kindness. Besides, to figure out your, interesting little puzzle, it’s best for the two of us to get to know each other, right?”

Viscos stares into the dark black eye holes of the mask, thinking. They had made it this far, farther than they had with other witches. Maybe it was the time to throw caution to the wind. But the reasonable, paranoid voice in their mind that clutches caution so close to their chest their knuckles whiten, calls it here.

“Then” They say. “I do not think we can work together.” They say, taking one last inhale of their cigarette holder, and leaving the room.

The next visit is also frustratingly short, or, as it was with Leftie, never really starts in the first place. They are trying to find the domain of the lady of the lake. They can see the peaking lights of hives in the distance, hidden near the water through the flurry of snow, but everytime they try to walk towards them they lose their way, and find themselves back where they started. Ever the pragmatist, they had tried to map the area, on a notepad. With leather gloves and shaking fingers, they marked down monuments and turns as they could, but even the most astute of their markings made no sense. It was as if the landscape itself was changing every time Viscos turned their back. Eventually, it became too cold even for them, and their mother of all coats, to endure, and they went back to the apartment, defeated. . . .

. .

When they found a witch who was travelling, they thought meticulously on where to meet her. The apartment was out of the question, obviously. They did not want to easily be found again if things went horribly wrong. They could meet at a cafe, but they didn’t want to be overheard. Somewhere public enough to instill a safety that came with being out in the open, but private enough to dissuade curious listeners. They toiled over this for nights before resolving to reserve a study room at the public library.

They’re sitting there now, foot tapping at the floor with a restless impatience. Their coat propped up on the chair. Every one of these meetings feels like russian roulette. The woman's first words upon entering feel like the sound of a bullet clicking into the chamber.

Finala opens the door to the room gently, offering a friendly wave and smile, but it’s not long after she steps into the room that she pauses, a brief concern welling up in her eyes.

“Oh…” She exhales. “I see. You’re cursed.”

Viscos stands up immediately, having prepared to dance around the subject of their affliction, and unsettled by how quickly and seamlessly Finala had noticed.

“How did you know that?” They say, guarded.

“I have a sense for such things.” She says, raising her arms in surrender. “If it eases you, I don’t know the specifics, but I might be able to help you were you to fill me in”

Viscos stares into her eyes, unsure what they’re searching for. Their paranoia battling with their desperation, and the paranoia wins out in the end. The cerulean picks up their coat, scrambling for the door.

“Please don’t leave” She says gently, not even knowing what she’s just done. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

And just like that, they stiffen, rooted to the spot, cursing their luck and their foolishness, turning back to glare at the woman as if she had just done something horrible to them.

Finala traces the look in their eyes for a moment, thinking.

“I see. It’s something to do with speech then.” She deduces. “Then I won’t speak until you tell me how to avoid it. If you’d rather simply take your leave, feel free. But know that I will not say another word to you without your permission.”

If only it were that simple, for them to be released with a ‘feel free’. Viscos once again wills their feet forward, but their body doesn’t listen to them. They stand there, time dragging on. Trying to think their way out. It’s only after the first minute or so they begin to realize Finala is serious about not speaking. She’s still standing across the room, mouth shut, waiting. Was there some way to tell her without telling her? Viscos eventually sighs, walking over and sitting back down in the chair.

“I can’t… be given orders” The cerulean says, gesturing vaguely. But it’s enough to piece the puzzle together regardless. The realization hits Finala all at once, and works its way backwards through the conversation that preceded it. They had not had a change of heart, she realizes. They had literally been unable to leave from the moment she told them not too. She stares at the cerulean, eyebrow raising as if asking if this was permission to speak.

“You can speak,” They say. “If you don’t tell me to do things.” They add, as a condition.

“Poor thing… I can only imagine the strife this has brought you” She says, taking a step closer. She pauses, thinking for a moment, and begins to speak slowly. “I’ll consider my words carefully- wouldn’t want to trigger the effect.” She turns to the side.

“If… I told you to rest assured that I have no desire to abuse your curse, would that force your hand?”

“Yes” They answer.

“Well. Then if you so please, you may choose to rest assured that is the case. Is me telling you not to leave, still in effect?”

They’re in this deep, Viscos thinks. If they’re fucked, they are already fucked. Might as well not mince words.

“Yes,” They say. “It can only be cancelled out by another, contradictory direct order.”

“Then, I order you to leave when you see fit.” She says.

Viscos pauses. Surely, something like all this had been what they wanted to hear, yes? Was this not the best way this could have gone? They had not made it this far with any of the other witches. But there is no relief in it, all they continue to feel is frustrated with their own vulnerability. They stare at the ground for a long moment, before sighing, rolling up the sleeve of their uniform, to reveal a sigil, that almost looks tattooed onto the skin, a symbol of four wings, a crown, and esoteric scribbling, that had appeared, immovable, on their forearm since the moment they were touched by magic.

“Do you know how to fix it?” They say, fighting to keep the waver from their voice.

Finala pauses, delicately taking the arm in her hands, stepping closer to look at the sigil.

“I’m not entirely familiar with this.” She says. “But… this mark is… it seems like someone worked hard to tie this spell specifically to its caster. You’d likely need that witch to remove it” She admits, knowing that’s likely not what they want to hear.

Viscos gives a long sigh. Why’d they pick a meeting place where they couldn’t smoke? Their fists open and close around a lack of cigarettes.

“I hoped you wouldn’t say that.” They exhale.

“I’m sorry. I assume you and who made it are still on uneven terms?”

“Worse” Viscos sighs. “She’s dead.”

#tw paranoia #tw witchcraft #viscos writing #my writing #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp

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