raitrolling · 10 months ago
Text
Gone
[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]
It did not take Glasya long to put the pieces together. 
Gaia had been alerted to a sudden increase in eldritch activity in the city of Atlantis, which the Investigations team was monitoring. It appeared to have been a short burst of energy as a result of an eldritch scream, but apart from the residual influence lingering around the city being worth keeping an eye on, it was not deemed an immediate threat. They could send a team out to investigate in-person should the levels of eldritch activity increase, but based on their initial assessment it was clear that at this stage it would be a waste of resources.
At the same time, Thrixe had not answered any of Glasya’s text messages they had sent over the past 24 hours. They didn’t care when they sent the initial message, a silly meme they’d found before they heard about the recent situation in Atlantis. But when they messaged him again after hearing the news and he still had yet to respond, they knew their suspicions were confirmed.
And when he still didn’t respond to their later threat to forever revoke his free candy privileges if he didn’t reply to them, they knew it was serious. 
Glasya knew there wasn’t much they could do but keep an ear out for any whisperings of investigations or changes in activity in Atlantis. Even though it was known that Thrixe was their friend, they would not be allowed to tag along for any investigation. For starters, they were not officially employed for fieldwork, and could not go out unless the matter was deemed safe and they were accompanied by a senior member of the Investigations team. But also, given the high potential that the eldritch influence could trigger their possession trauma, their moirail and boss Mikail would not allow them to get exposed. 
It sucked, but they knew that no amount of pouting and trying to bribe him would change his mind. They may be dating, but they were still both required to act professionally on the job.
However, they did know someone else they could ask…
After messaging one of the members of the Special Operations team to confirm if a certain other troll was onsite tonight, they slipped out of their office, informed Astera that they’ll be back shortly if anyone needs them, and headed upstairs to the other department’s wing. 
It was easy to find who they were looking for, all they needed to do was follow the chill in the air. He was sitting in one of the common areas, reading through what appeared to be a briefing for an upcoming meeting. 
“Hey,” - There was a pause, as if Glasya had to stop themself from using one of the nicknames they call him behind his back. - “Mikiel. You heard the latest news?”
Mikiel looked up from his papers, eyes instinctively narrowing in suspicion. Glasya never approached him for any good reason.
“What news.”
“Oh, you know, just a certain starfish prooobably doing some sort of fucky-wucky up in Atlantis that has gotten him back on our radar, and he hasn’t responded to any of my texts. You heard anything?” Glasya’s tone was as casual as always, and Mikiel didn’t care to try and gauge how genuine their flippancy was.
“I haven’t, but…” The blueblood paused, properly considering their words. He had messaged Thrixe last night, but he wasn’t the type to follow up an unanswered text. His moirail was a grown adult who can look after himself, and if he takes a couple nights to respond, that usually means he was simply too busy. 
But everything else made that sound suspicious, and while Mikiel’s expression didn’t change the drop in temperature around the two trolls made it clear he was perturbed.
Glasya didn’t need to wait for any other response.
“Yeah, didn’t think so. I know you guys are tight, but no way he’d ignore lil ol’ me while still chatting to you,” they shrug. “Anyway, you think you’d be able to do a cheeky lil investigation? Make sure your own moirail hasn’t finally returned to his ancestral calling as a haunted sea sponge and become one with a coral reef?”
Mikiel rolled his eyes.
“That’s not what his ancestor was. But, fine. I’ll go.” 
Glasya grinned. If it was anyone else, they knew the answer would be a definite no. But, somehow, under those hundreds of layers of ice and pretentiousness, Thrixe had managed to get Mikiel to care for him after all.
“Pog. If you need an outie of whatever mission your guys were gonna send you on, say something important from Investigations has popped up. I’ll vouch for you.”   
Mikiel doubted such a plan would work, but he didn’t care if Glasya got in trouble for it. That’s their problem.
And even if he wasn’t allowed to leave for Atlantis, no one was going to stop him. Not if it was true that Thrixe was in trouble. 
-----------------
Mikiel shivered as he entered the city of Atlantis, making a beeline for Thrixe’s hive and trying his best to ignore everything else. The eldritch presence in the air was palpable to someone like him, given his sensitivity to the supernatural, but apart from the inherent wrongness of it all, it didn’t appear particularly dangerous. 
The amount of trolls wandering about thinned out considerably the closer he got to his destination, which he anticipated. He had chosen to investigate off the clock so he did not need to seek the approval of his boss, but as a member of Gaia it was still his responsibility to ensure the safety of the general populace from supernatural threats. Fortunately, the eldritch presence was doing its job keeping everyone else away, whether they realised it or not.
Mikiel could also feel the desire to turn away and abandon the investigation lingering within his mind, but he ignored it and kept going. 
As he approached the hive, he was stopped in his tracks. The front door was open, a sign that someone else had been here… Or still was inside. He bristled, on high alert, relying on The Patron’s gift to try and sense any other supernatural entities amongst the horrorterror’s lingering aura. The temperature around him was rapidly cooling, and frost creeping up the windows of the hive would alert anyone inside to his presence, but he was ready to fight if necessary.
The interior of the hive was wrecked. Mikiel did not visit Thrixe’s hive often as the hybrid preferred to visit the blueblood’s own, but he knew his moirail would not willingly leave the place in such a state. Furniture had been overturned, paintings fallen off the wall, lightbulbs shattered, and black blobs of something melted into the carpet. Ink, presumably, or some sort of sludge? He didn’t think it was necessary to understand exactly what it was, but he knew enough about terrors to know what kinds of liquids to expect. 
He crept through each room, looking for any signs of life. Nothing, no intruders like he had feared from the open door, and still no signs of the seadweller. Just a trail of the black substance, and-
Mikiel’s head suddenly turned at the sound of some animalistic noise, as his psiionics reacted in kind, freezing the floor directly underneath his feet.
Oh, it’s just Archimedes. The gryphon had left its  hiding spot and approached Mikiel, recognising him as a troll it could trust. Mikiel could not understand the animal’s body language, but he would not be surprised if it was distressed by the disappearance of its owner. He relaxed slightly, and crouched down to examine the creature. It didn’t appear like it’d been harmed, and it simply stared curiously back at him.
He nodded in acknowledgement, then stood back up, motioning for the animal to not try and follow him. If he can’t find Thrixe, he’ll need to take Archimedes back with him to make sure it gets looked after. Glasya would likely know what to do. 
He cast his attention back to the black fluid on the floor, and cautiously followed its trail. The lingering eldritch influence was starting to make his head hurt, but this appeared to be his only lead into locating his moirail. The trail took him to another door, which had been completely shattered, like something massive had forced its way through it… Or out of it.
Gazing into the open entrance of the broken door, he noticed where the trail of muck had ended. The seafront hives in Atlantis were built to be half-submerged for the seadwelling occupants, and many contained passageways and chambers that lead directly into the depths.
Mikiel grit his teeth, and turned to run out of the hive and towards the shoreline. Without thinking, he kept running, allowing his psiionics to freeze the water directly underneath him so he could take off over the ocean. He gripped his gloves in his teeth and tore them off, allowing for his cryokinesis to operate uninhibited, spreading the ice further across the waves and freezing a thick platform he could safely cross. He had learned he was able to trust in his abilities now, and that he could put his full faith that pursuing this hunch would not lead him astray. 
He did not stop until he was far from the shore, past the sandbar that only trained swimmers and those with gills would dare to cross. He knew he would not see any signs of the horrorterror hybrid from the surface, but - and he felt stupid for hoping this, but god was he desperate, despising the way his own fears burned in his chest and lead him to run into the maelstrom of eldritch activity - perhaps, he could-
“Thrixe!!!” 
He screamed his morail’s name out at the ocean, as loud and as shrill as his lungs were capable of. The chill in the air felt piercing, and he was clenching his fists so hard they were freezing over. He took in another deep breath.
“I know you’re out there somewhere, I can feel your damn presence all over the place! You- You- Coglione! Cretino! If you’ve done something stupid, get back here and tell me! Don’t just fuck off and leave everyone worried! Tu rompiscatole!” 
The words came out far angrier than he had intended, but… Seeing the state of Thrixe’s hive, the black sludge that slathered the floor, the wrecked furniture and doors that reeked of a desperate escape, and then knowing that whatever he had done had triggered Gaia to start monitoring again without knowing if this was even his moirail’s fault, he was terrified. 
“You- Answer me, goddammit!!” He screamed until his throat felt raw, and clusters of ice spikes had sprung up around him as his psiionics reflected his own rage. The ice around his fists shattered, but kept threatening to freeze over once again. He could no longer see through his glasses, having also frozen over until the lenses shattered.
But that did not matter, as there was only silence.
Silence, and the increasing feeling of absolute dread caused by the eldritch influence swarming around him. 
As Mikiel stood there, it became clear to him that Thrixe was no longer within the confines of Atlantis’ ocean, and was not in control of what lingered around the bay. If he was still in control, it’s deterring aura would have likely been much stronger to the point where the blueblood would’ve found himself unable to even get close to the hive. Thrixe would not have want his moirail to worry so much, or to get injured and fall under his thrall.
If Thrixe was still in control, it wouldn’t feel so hateful. 
The cryokinetic shivered, not from his own psiionics but from the sudden awareness that he was absolutely powerless. His moirail had vanished into the depths, and there was nothing left of him remaining in this area, nor any other ways that he could be pursued. All that was left was something that felt actively malicious towards Mikiel the longer he stayed here, feelings of hatred and resentment prickling under his skin. 
Like a man possessed, he finally followed his instincts, and fled back to shore. 
4 notes · View notes