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ciphertone-a · 5 months ago

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The mention of a star providing all the light around them is enough to stoke the embers of his joy once more. A star did this? They always looked so distant whenever he saw them, he didn't think any glow they provided could reach somewhere, feel so tangible - it makes even the sunlight feel magical, in a way. He wonders where light comes from back home - was that a star, too? They didn't talk about any of them for.. obvious reasons, and the light and dark were more so treated as simple facts rather than something to discover the source of. At least, he's fairly certain. He spent a lot of time staring up rather then properly paying attention to that sort of stuff, but they could eat it now that he knew he was onto something there! The stars were permanent no matter the time for him however, seeing as the were always just.. up there, but maybe things worked similarly anyways! Maybe when he got home he'd have to see. Even if he doubts he'd get to follow up on it much, all things considered.

The next statement.. doesn't exactly alleviate his doubts. Or worries. It helps, having fellow weirdos and family around to support you. He wonders what that must be like. To actively embrace that feeling rather then spend every living moment trying to conceal it, or being told to conceal it. It reflects in his eye, scrunching and staring into nothing, deeply pondering that reality. He already does that a lot, though - he snaps himself out of it readily enough. What's new to think about is everyone else being like him, or everyone else being strange in different ways that it doesn't really matter anymore. That everyone was strange, and therefore made it normal. He can't even imagine how much they'd up his dosage if he came home and started putting that thought out there.

Although with what the other says next gives.. a lot more to think about, too. Maybe a more worrying thing to think about. What did he mean, choices? Choices that hurt his family..? He looks confused, but in a sort of.. timid, almost scared way. He doesn't know what that means - why would he hurt his family? Why did he sound so.. sad.. about it..? He knows how people sound when they're trying to avoid something painful, his ma does it all the time and he isn't stupid. But why? What did he mean had to be stopped? How did he stop him that gave him a crack splitting his entire being apart?

Meanwhile, perhaps as a reflection of his younger selves sudden unease, Bill could practically feel his grip on Sixer slipping away. He knows him too well, but the careful look in his eyes to the curt response that he's thinking about things too hard. He loves it when Sixer thinks, the sight of his neurons firing off like supernovas one of his favorite things to witness, but right now.. he'd rather turn down the dial on that before he got too smart. And - wow, he just had to bring up Hawkins of all people, didn't he - until his brain fired off like an explosion, remembering the portal. The portal. The portal. Bill manages to stop the way his eye instinctively wishes to scrunch in displeasure at the question. How does he go about this without blowing the lid off the whole thing...

"RIGHT! THE PORTAL. REALLY KID, IT'S BEEN FOREVER, DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU'D START DRAGGING YOUR FEET THAT CLOSE TO THE FINISH LINE? THE PORTAL WENT JUST AS SMOOTHLY AS I TOLD YOU IT WOULD! I MEAN, C'MON, HOW ELSE WOULD I BE HERE IN THE FLESH? I'D NEVER HAVE A DEAL WITH YOU FALL THROUGH. YOU'VE GOT EVERYONE IN YOUR CORNER JUST LIKE YOU WANTED, I'VE GOT THE PHYSICAL FORM, AND BEST OF ALL, WE'RE LIKE, BEST FRIENDS. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO PASS OUT TO HANG OUT ANYMORE. ASIDE FROM THE BRIEF BUMP IN THE ROAD NOW, THINGS ARE GREAT."

Something deep in his guts twists as he says the words, although he does his best to shut it out, just like he always does when he thinks about what could have been. Sixer'll disappear after this, he knows that. But part of him briefly gets carried away with the reality he's crafted up, a wistful tone entering his voice the longer he'd went. If things just went his way, Sixer at his side, liberated from all those dolts who just dragged him down, free to reach his truest potential.... if only he could burn away any trace of betrayal.

But just like all things, it must come to an end. He can't dwell on the idea too long, given he's picked back up on the other conversation at play.

While he catches on, the smaller triangle still perched takes the.. phone, the other called it? Weird, but whatever - in his hand. It takes a moment to figured out the mechanics, but after that hurdle, he gets to writing the quick brown fox - before he's interrupted.

Apparently, Bills finally gotten tired of playing nice. He is not letting Sixer find out about why it's illegal - he's been trying to be delicate about the situation, but he's not willing to walk on eggshells and let him figure that out due to his own sentimentality desire to further mess with Sixer's head. No - it's been nice, pretending like old times, but if he's gotta set the trap they've stepped into here off, he'll do it gladly. His eye shifts to himself, briefly flickering back to Sixer, as if considering something... before his resolve hardens, and it's almost like he was never there to begin with. He steps away and closer to the truth at hand.

"I'D THINK TWICE BEFORE GOING THAT FAR, KID - THE REASON HE WAS SO QUICK TO SKIP OVER THE SPECIFICS OF THOSE CHOICES AND HOW HE STOPPED US IS BECAUSE HE KILLED US. SHOT US INTO A MILLION ATOMS! LUCKY FOR US I HAD A BACKUP PLAN STORED AWAY, BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW THAT - IN FACT, THAT'S WHY HE'S SO MAD AT US. HE WISHES WE STAYED DEAD. SO THERE! YOU CAN KEEP ANSWERING YOUR MURDERS QUESTIONS IF YOU WANT, BUT I WOULDN'T. WHY ELSE DO YOU THINK I TRIED TO STOP YOU?"

He deliberately avoids the younger Sixer's gaze as he reveals this. He doesn't want to see the flurry of emotions thats most certainly playing out on his face right now. Instead, he stayed focused on him. His younger self, and the look of pure terror that courses through his system at these words. Killed him? He was killed? By him? He’d just told him everything, showed him all this and - oh stars, he can tell by the expression change there’s something there. It made sense, it made sense, that's what he meant by he had to be stopped he killed him he killed him he killed him so badly it left his entire shape fractured even afterwards. He scrambles away from the other, falling from his shoulder and onto the grass. He doesn’t stop there, continuing to move a few steps back. His look is frightfully analyzing, clearly rethinking everything about the conversation they'd just had now. More so than he already had been, a panic kicking in alongside it.

"YOU DIDN'T - RIGHT? YOU - WHY WOULD YOU LET ME SAY ALL THAT IF YOU WERE JUST GOING TO KILL ME? IS THAT WHY YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT YOU? YOUR NAME, OR - OR ANYTHING ELSE!? BECAUSE YOU WISH I WAS DEAD? I TRUSTED YOU!"

Ford didn't miss that look. That look of anxiety, however brief it was. He... had expected it after all, with that our burst he had did. Damn it. That was not how he wanted himself to come off. Still, at least the younger triangle continued on, even with a bit of hesitance. He was going to have to be more careful from now on, wasn't he? At least his younger self had stopped trying to intervene for the moment. Illegal? Ford almost interjected a question into the conversation at that moment - curious at what would cause pondering about all these things be illegal? He's pocketing that information for a later question. He's immediately scribbling down the notes, but internally curses for a moment. Oh how he wishes Mabel was here. His brilliant niece would always have one of those rainbow pens around to write in. He didn't have any markers or anything on him - who needed it when a good drawing and fountain pen was often enough? Normally he didn't need to take notes in color. Sometimes with a red pen if he had something specific to note down, yes, but that was the extent of his note-taking being colorful in anyway usually. Of course, now he's come into a situation where of course he needs something like that and doesn't have it on him. Still, maybe there's something else he could do. Holding the journal in one hand, he reached into the front little pocket of his coat, taking out his cellular device while vaguely noting the answer to his last question. He'd have to jot that down when he had another moment to do so. There had to be some kind of application on here that would allow drawing with color. Hopefully. He didn't use this thing beyond when he had absolutely had to for several reasons.

This was undoubtedly one of the times he had to. He couldn't miss this chance.

"First off - you don't need to thank me. I am happy to do in return for answering my own. As for the topic of stars and astrology..." He had once again brightened at the first question, looking away from the phone as the triangle's questions renewed. "Of course we do! Believe it or not, the light in the sky right now is provided by one itself. We have a day - which is what you're currently seeing - and night cycle, when we're able to see the rest of the stars in the sky." There may have been a lot more to it, but it was way too much to explain in such a short time. Of course, all of this only applied if Isola operated anywhere on the level of other planets, galaxies, and dimensions, that is. It was likely, but there was also a chance there was a much more disturbing thing behind the veil of this dimension given the constant eclipses. He had some theories regarding all of that, but found dwelling on them to be rather pointless ultimately.

The next question was... hrm. For a moment, his smile dims a bit. 'Liked' was often a strong term for people he met. "... Not everyone. But the people that do ultimately like me despite my hands are enough," he finally answered. His family. Those who he cared about in return. Despite it, his smile is still genuine. "I may be weird, but that's something I've long since learned to embrace. It helps having fellow weirdos and family around to support you." There's a pause. "And honestly, I think there are so many beings here in this dimension in particular that could be defined as 'strange' that ultimately my anomaly doesn't really even factor into things as often."

As the euclidean pondered his last question, Ford was left to ponder over him again. It's strange. He didn't know what to expect of this encounter, beyond information. But this was a whole different side to Cipher, wasn't it? One he couldn't have pictured, ever. Not when he was told of the triangle who destroyed his dimension and killed his parents. It was hard to line that picture up and of Bill's future self with this other one...

While the questions and answers had resumed between the younger triangle and the older human, the ghost of the younger human had been feeling somewhat shaken by what his older self had said. None of it was particularly informative, but he couldn't ignore the logic that he had had presented himself with.

Even as Bill began to speak up, there's a wariness there as his eyebrows knitted together, turning his attention firmly back onto Bill and tuning into his words and listening carefully. The tension didn't fade completely, but it did slowly lessen as the triangle talked. Maybe... maybe he was looking too deeply into these things. His muse using a nickname like that- well, it could have meant anything. Perhaps it was just a new fond nickname, and didn't have any other particular implications behind it? And this whole argument could be... Well, it wasn't as easily dismissed but he could try and rationalize it. It could be that his older self was dramatizing things. He knew he had that tendency within him. Would he truly be an author if he didn't have some dramatics to his actions? It still didn't add up completely, but he could picture it better. His muse could also be downplaying things as well. It seemed pretty serious to him no matter what, especially concerning whatever was going on with that crack. Perhaps a healthy mix of both. Overdramatization on his own part, while underplaying it from Bill's in order to get him to not worry about it as much and try to enjoy the moment. "I see now." Kind of. Even if he wanted to point out to Bill that perhaps this wasn't exactly the best way to mend the fence per say. "To be fair, I don't think my point of view was completely unfounded - you did imply you'd call Stephen Hawking over still seeing me. Over a pet of all things," Stanford said, the last part a mutter - even as he was smiling. As much as he missed Frilliam and wished he had come into his life at a better time, Bill's reminders of how close they had been to finishing the portal rang true.

Wait. Wait. Suddenly, Stanford paused, all other thoughts halting in favor of the sudden realization. "Wait you have to tell me - did the portal ever become operational?! Did it all work out?" He said, eyes lighting up with excitement. At least thirty years seem to be passed, and they had been so close to finishing it - Perhaps that's what went wrong? Something went wrong with the portal and had injured Bill somehow, even a highly divine being like him? Improbable. But it was the only working knowledge he had of the situation right now. The question had to be put aside for the moment, for as Bill turned his attention back towards the younger version of himself, so did Stanford - just in time to catch the tail-end of the question and tune back in. If the present Ford's face had visibly brightened at the first question, it was only doing the opposite at this one, whatever excitement drained out at it. What was he supposed to say to that? The truth? Usually he'd have no problem listing out all the horrible deeds Bill had been up to. But he also can't lie. At least, not to pretend that everything was alright convincingly enough. Certainly not after the show he had just put on. A compromise then. Tell the truth but leave out some of the more... gritty details as best as he could. "I... it's complicated why I don't like yourself in the future. You see, you-" He's painfully aware the real Bill, the current Bill is just right over there, even if he hasn't dared to take a glance towards him since the question was asked - and could be hearing everything he was saying. The last thing he wanted was to be vulnerable in front of him. He should be able to dismiss the ghost, or not care about really answering it - after all, it was mostly likely just going to disappear without having affected anything. He doubted this was anything more than just another special effect of Isola brought to life from their own experiences. He shouldn't care. But the look the young euclidean gave him reminded him too much of his niece and nephew to dismiss the triangle entirely. Ford averted his gaze - not looking at any of the present parties within the glade while taking a deep breath. He had to do this. And he had to do this the best he could.

There's a delicateness and tiredness to his tone as he starts to speak again. "The future you made choices... that hurt me in the future. And then you were going to make choices that would hurt my family." A pause, as he grimaced. No, that was obscuring too much. "A lot more people than that, really." He's not going to say to what scale. "But regardless of how many - your choices... had to be stopped. And it was. Mostly by my brother. And the crack is what I believe to be a result of that. At least, if my theory is correct. Your... future self has claimed otherwise though." Ford may have held the gun - but it was Stanley who had come up with the plan, and refused to give up when Ford had already given up in his own mind. He refused to look towards Bill now - even if he could practically feel the heat from both the triangle's look and his younger self's - if he had to guess - shocked face. He couldn't, not when he knew instead of the anger, rage, and resentment that burned within him so often while talking to, being near, or even thinking about Bill, he was feeling emotions he'd rather not address. He forces a smile back onto his face that doesn't reach his eyes as he finally focused his gaze back at the ghost of a triangle. "There's more to it than that. But it is one way to sum it up." For a moment, something else lingers at the back of his mind - but immediately he tears up the idea in his head. As idealistic as it would be to believe this triangle was not simply a ghost of Bill's past and instead an alternate being, it wasn't something he quite believed in.

Instead he hurriedly switched topics - hoping to ignore the other triangle completely as well as his older self and dearly hoping that the younger one was still willing to go through with this all. "As for my next questions: why in the world would it be illegal to talk about these things?" He tilted his head. "I mean, I am surprised you know so much at this age. Isn't that impossible with how 2D beings work?" Still, he pressed on. "My... last request in lieu of an answer would be for you to utilize my phone." He had finally found an app for drawing in between everything. "You should be able to pick shades. Perhaps you could show me a sentence? Either of your choosing or-" He coughs slightly, holding it up for it to be taken by the euclidean if he choose to do so. "Something like 'The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog?" Sometimes, the basics were the best for stuff like this.

#threads.#fxrdpines ; 03 #fxrdpines #lol. lmao. ( running behind ford with a metal chair )

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