ripplingcurrents

[ripplingcurrents]

step back? what, why?

[webby is in the middle of asking the question when a matching bucket of water is dumped over him. something akin to a squawk of surprise slips out of him, though it's somehow... warped around the edges, more monster than human, in a way. he freezes, and his arms come up in front of him in a very odd gesture that doesn't really translate to a human-ish form]

[ah, well. spiders will be spiders.]

what the fuck?!

[he hisses the question, looking up above him to see absolutely nothing there. his arms are still up in front of him. he realizes this and lowers one, raising the other to experimentally swat at the air above him]

well, that answers that fuckin' question. i'm guessing that's why you're wet?

[his shoulders have shifted almost imperceptibly. his arms raise slightly again, starting to curl up in front of him before he forces them down again]

-🕸️

“Yeah, thats why I’m wet,” RC snaps a little too quickly. His hands flying up in surprise does squeeze a laugh from them, but then it’s back to realizing they are still struggling to get clothes on.

The jeans are finally dragged up over their hips, and they stand there for a moment, crossing their arms over their chest.

“You look away when people ask dude. Consent and all,” RC hums.

They’re tense, not really wanting to put on the rest of their clothing lest another bucket get dumped on them. Jury’s out it seems, seeing it was first them and now Webby. Whoever is dropping water ons them is paying attention, like an asshole. They can almost feel it, like an eye crawling over their back and skin.

Another shudder runs through them, from cold or unease they’re unsure. They’re reminded that the solitude in the house hasn’t done well for them. They’d heard the saying “the walls have ears” but sometimes the places in this house felt like it had mouths too.

But Webby is here. Webby is standing right in front of them. They lunge for the man, before he can book it to wherever he goes.

They gape a little like a fish. They don’t really know what to say but they do try their hardest to muster something.

[ripplingcurrents]

[a bucket of ice water is dumped over webby, too. fuck you, webs]

RC‘s phone vibrates against the floor with an incoming message a half second before the water hits. It’s hard not to laugh. Instead they stand there, silently choking air and flushing more. Their eyes are comically wide as they decide what to say or do.

[ripplingcurrents]

[a quiet snort of laughter comes from behind you. when you turn... lo and behold, it's webby!]

this is not what i expected to come back to! you're, uh...

[he pauses, gaze seeming to flicker over you and your... distinct lack of clothed-ness. his attention lingers at the garment around your chest, but he quickly recovers his wording and carries on in his usual upbeat tone]

seem to have gotten yourself in a... wet sorta situation, eh? what happened to you? why are you.. wet?

[amusement drips into his tone as he asks the final question, head bobbing slightly as he once again scans you, looking over the top edge of his sunglasses to reveal the bright white of his eyes]

-🕸️

RC startles at the voice, then whips around to face Webby.

“Fuck!” They exclaim for the second time.

Their eyes flick over Webby, following his gaze before a flush crawls up their cheeks. They hastily dip down and scramble for their jeans. They’re wet and unfortunately, the fabric sticks to their legs making the process so much more labour intensive than it should be.

They only manage to get the pants halfway up their legs before they curse again. Fortunately there’s not a swear jar in the house.

“Can you like, look away? Someone dumped a bucket of water on me,” they tersely explain.

[ripplingcurrents]

I CAST FUCK YOU

[a bucket of cold water is dumped over your head]

RC shudders and yelps as the water splashes down over their shoulders and down their back. It immediately soaks their bun and quickly follows to drench their hoodie shoulders and down the front of the top.

“For fuck sake,” they spit. They jerk their hands, droplets of water spraying in every direction.

There’s a puddle on the floor. Today the flooring is tile, thank gods, or Webby’s floors might have been damaged. The house does seem to like to have various types of wood paneling.

They start stripping down rather quickly. Their clothing is soaked, and the last thing they want is to wear wet clothing all day. They’ll have to change. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is here after all. What are the odds Webby would show up now?

[ripplingcurrents]

[webby is standing in the kitchen, hands on his hips and studying the... rock which is currently occupying a spot where his cabinets were]

[the cabinets appear to have remolded themselves slightly, and rearranged around the rock. in the middle, where there were the charred remains of part of the counter, there's now a gap in the cabinets entirely and the rock sits, slightly inlaid in the floor]

[his expression is hard to read. mostly, he looks intrigued, one eyebrow hiked far up as he studies the rock. when you call out, he turns to face you with a small smile on his face]

hey, spots! how'd the, uh... how'd the fuckin' meteor in the kitchen happen?

-🕸️

RC shuffles a bit, scuffing the toe of their sock into the carpet. Their eyes go over Webby’s face and body scanning for anger or any sign of displeasure. He looks…confused mostly. Which is a very valid reaction seeing the kitchen has been…remodelled.

“I uh..” they hesitate. “There was a lava bucket. Someone gave me. And I was sitting next to it and someone made it melt.”

They shift uncomfortably. They know they’re not at fault, not genuinely. They didn’t ask for the bucket or make it melt. And yet it feels like their very presence has been a bad omen. They’re a guest in this house after all.

“I stopped it from spreading. As best I could. I’m sorry.”

Their jaw clenches. They don’t meet his eyes.

[ripplingcurrents]

I know what I want and you can either help me, and in turn I'll help you, or you can fuck right off.

I'm not keen on the game that you're leading.

I'll only talk to you as long as you're either useful or amusing to me.

So, what will it be?

Make your choice.

-🎱

Am I amusing to you? You’re still here.

[ripplingcurrents]

well this is new!

[ah. that voice is familiar. faintly amused as usual, though with a hint of irritation]

[the voice sounds from the next room - the kitchen - seemingly talking to himself rather than anyone with him]

how the fuck...?

-🕸️

RC spins at the sound of the voice. They’re not sure if it’s out of relief or tension, but their shoulders do….something.

“Webby!” they exclaim as they bolt up from the couch. “You’re back!”

Gods they were sounding more like an over excited Labrador every day. Perhaps the solitude was starting to actually get to them.

Their eyes fall onto the charred cabinets, and then the black rock puddle in their kitchen. It looks a bit like the tar pits a dinosaur might have gotten stuck in.

RC flushes, eyes dragging back up to Webby, trying to judge his reaction.

[ripplingcurrents]

I don't particularly care what you think of me as long as you get the job done.

-🎱

I thought you said impressions were important. And for someone who doesn’t care, you were the one to instigate this conversation.

[ripplingcurrents]

I like to make an impression on people.

And I've found that a negative impression is both easier to upkeep and gets me what I want more easily.

A mixed bag is a fair description, although I reckon a wildcard suits me better.

-🎱

And what impression do you think you’ve made on me? Is it what you want?

[ripplingcurrents]

Most people hate me,

Some tolerate me,

Some pity me but I make sure to get rid of those quickly enough.

I'm Diamond's nemesis, supposedly, although they have regretted appointing me as one since then.

I caused a couple of panic attacks, saved a couple of lives, ya know, the usual!

-🎱

Don’t like pity huh? Is your life worth pitying? You sound like a mixed bag of results. For someone hiding and surviving you seem to like to be seen.

[ripplingcurrents]

Me?

Well, I'm..

Officially? Missing.

According to the Showfall documentation? Dead.

In reality? Surviving.

-🎱

And what about that reputation? What have you earned as a dead man?

[ripplingcurrents]

Oh please, what do I have to hide?

I've rightfully earned my reputation.

I won't deny it.

I do like messing with people.

Unfortunately you are infuriatingly hard to knock down and I don't care enough to properly try.

-🎱

Thank you, I suppose. Ideally I don’t get knocked down every two seconds. As for reputation, who are you exactly? Other than a guy who uses an eightball as a call sign.

[ripplingcurrents]

If you truly are a coward, then you won't show up in the first place.

So, at most, I'll be dissapointed.

Do you want a liar and an asshole helping you?

-🎱

Not a great sales pitch on your end, I’ll admit. But I won’t shoot you on sight. You haven’t earned that quite yet.

Maybe. I do have unconventional company. We’ll see.

[ripplingcurrents]

I'm trying to prevent you from destroying the company that hurt your sibling and their friends??

I feel like that's enough of a motive.

Plus, you don't exactly have to do it directly.

..Hey, a question.

If I help you then would you help me to get a certain person out?

The main problem with them is that they're both fragile physically and moving them would be a nightmare.

But I have access to practically all information that Showfall has on people, most mechanisms in the facility and how they work, layout, as well as some control over the facility itself.

Think about it.

And I shall too.

I'll be honest, I don't trust you.

But my judgement has failed me before.

-🎱

Sounds like a lot of power for someone who doesn’t work for Showfall. I’ll consider it. You sure you want a so called coward assisting you?

[ripplingcurrents]

I'm not working for Showfall.

Haven't been for a while.

Never will, never again.

-🎱

Then why would I ruin your life? What motivation would I have?

[ripplingcurrents]

Shut the fuck up.

Just so you know it didn't end well for the last person who offered to get me out.

Not well at all.

So I suggest you shut your mouth.

I am able to leave, physically. I choose not to.

The life that awaits me outside isn't worth living.

That is not the case for all people in Showfall, I must specify.

Take your Sunny all you want, I don't care.

Just know that if you ruin my life then I might just have to ruin yours.

-🎱

I’m well aware there are sone who can’t leave. Believe it or not I have been doing a touch of research in my time here.

You seem to think I’m out for your blood. Or want to ruin your life. Are you someone important in Showfall?

[ripplingcurrents]

Why are there so many fucking people who all are planning to burn Showfall to the ground, all with individual and contradictory plans?!

Can't you all organise or something?! Because keeping track of all of ya is starting to get real annoying!

Also, can't you just take your loved ones out without destroying the place that certain people need to be functional to survive?! Noooo, of course you have to fulfil your revenge fantasies with an epic explosion or something, not even considering the consequences.

Not everybody is as lucky as you or Sunny.

Not everybody can leave.

And not everybody wants to either.

Go fuck yourself.

-🎱

To be fair I never said I’m burning it to the ground. If there’s damage I’d like to try to be…precise so to speak. I’d prefer to get the people I want out, and then everything else is secondary.

I’m sorry you don’t have someone willing to get you out, if you even want to leave. It’s unfortunate. And yes, I am lucky. I have a loving family. Sunny has a loving family. And I will bring them back to that. Maybe it is cowardice on my end.

But I’m not going to let them rot. And if others want to leave, then I’ll see what I can do.

That also extends to you. So long as you don’t harm Sunny or intentionally try to ruin my plans. I’m not heartless. Not yet.