#fxrdpines ; 03

[ciphertone-a]

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.

[ciphertone-a]

As the others stare, he ignores his injury, almost pointedly. Even if it's a little difficult, considering the look Sixer gets in his eye. He hasn't properly bled in, well.... he'd rather not remember. He's had far, far worse, and a bite mark wasn't going to change anything. Even if it did sting, given the way he shakes the limb once or twice to try and get rid of the feeling.

As for the other shape, once he secured this position, yet again he was completely glued to the others responses. Everywhere he pointed he looked, utterly fascinated with every answer he got. He looked so strange - he couldn't even begin to identify what shape he could possibly be, considering he was too many lines and bends. He knew he wasn't one at all, but it's habit. Two eyes, a separate mouth, ears - whatever those are - the whole thing looks deluxe. As the topic rolls back around to the fingers, he can't help but just stare for a second, fixated in awe rather then excitement at the revelation. A birth defect? So they were like him! He looks up, missing the start of his last answer, but just in time to catch how his future self looks and make the comment. After that, well, the humans already started answering his questions and he doesn't want to cut in even if he wants to really badly and say something, anything to have someone finally relate to him over this, so he'll just. Wait until he's done. Yeah.

It doesn't really happen smoothly as he'd wished. The other human here has turned their attention towards him properly now, instigated by himself to stop this whole thing again. He clings onto the strangers shoulder as he turns, thankfully lacking in sharp claws to properly dig in with.

When his attention centers itself on Bill again, his prior excitement has been clouded with uncertainness, wide eyed and anxious. He could’ve guessed this guy and his older self weren’t thrilled to see each other - he hadn’t had the best first impression of himself, either - but now he can’t help but question the sheer scale of it. What he’d said seemed like venom on his tongue, distaste and resentment clear in every word; he can’t help but worry that mirrors the others opinion on him, too. After all, the one he’d talked about was the only version of him he knew. He didn't even know his name, now that he thinks about it, what was he thinking!? Was he just faking it? Is that why his future self is trying to keep him from saying anything?

No. No, it’s fine - see? He just said he was fine. He forces himself to settle, trying to match his prior enthusiasm. He laughs lightly, to try and ease himself.

"Right - uh, RIGHT, YEAH! WE CAN KEEP DOING THAT. THANKS, FOR, UH.. ANSWERING ALL OF THESE, BY THE WAY. MOST PEOPLE JUST THINK I'M CRAZY WHEN I TRY AND TALK ABOUT THIS STUFF. OR, WELL, THEY WOULD IF I DID TALK ABOUT THEM, BUT I DON'T REALLY - OR TRY NOT TO - BECAUSE IT'S ILLEGAL. HA. ANYWAYS, ABOUT YOUR QUESTIONS. WE USUALLY WRITE IN COLORS. YOU PUT THE SHADES NEXT TO EACH OTHER AND THATS HOW YOU GET WHAT YOU'RE SAYING WRITTEN. I'D SHOW YOU IF I HAD THE STUFF FOR IT, BUT I DON'T CARRY ALL OF THAT. THERE'S A LOT OF SHADES. OH, AND MY DIMENSIONS NAME IS EUCLIDIA. THAT'S WHY WE'RE CALLED EUCLIDIANS. WHICH WHILE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT THAT, NO, OUR ARMS AND ALL DON'T REALLY GET DARKER. I DON'T KNOW WHY HIS - OR. MINE. ARE LIKE THAT. OKAY, LET ME THINK OF MY QUESTIONS."

There's a pause, genuinely putting thought into it.

"OKAY. DO YOU HAVE STARS HERE? I DON'T SEE ANY, SO.. THEY'RE LIKE LIGHTS IN THE SKY, BUT THE SKY'S USUALLY DARKER THEN YOURS. AND, UM.. DO PEOPLE HERE LIKE YOU. EVEN WITH THE FINGERS? EVEN IF THEY'RE WEIRD. AND, FOR THE LAST ONE..."

While the other two have been talking, successfully getting Sixer two off their back and directing him towards Bill, he can't help but fume quietly. He'd bristled uncomfortably as Sixer just had to complicate things, and he didn't dismiss the scathing look quick enough to dissuade probable suspicion. He tries to smooth it over, but dammit, now he's dealing with himself, Sixer, and Sixer two over here. The questioning look, weighing the scales between his muse and his judgement, looks painfully familiar. Verging on betrayal. He doesn't want to relive losing Sixer - his loyalty - again. He can just.. lie his way out of it. It's what he's good at, and he already knows what not to say anyways.

"LOOK, IT'S - UGH. IT'S NOT WHAT HE MAKES IT SOUND LIKE! OKAY. FINE. WE'RE NOT AT THE... GREATEST... PLACE RIGHT NOW, BUT IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS. I JUST DIDN'T WANT YOU TO WORRY ABOUT IT! IT'S LIKE HOW YOU DIDN'T LIKE IT WHEN I WAS GONE FOR A COUPLE ... WEEKS ... ? AND THOUGHT I WAS POSING FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S TAPESTRIES. WHICH I WOULDN'T DO, BY THE WAY. SO IT'S NOT THAT I WOULDN'T TELL YOU, I JUST DON'T WANT HIM GOING OVER MY HEAD AND GETTING ANSWERS OUT OF ME THAT I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE. SO THAT'S WHY IT'S FINE FOR YOU TO ASK, BUT NOT HIM."

He gives what he figures is a reasonable enough explanation for everything else - even if it does pain him to imply they were even mildly at odds - but conveniently skips over any details about the crack. He can concede enough to imply they weren't on the best terms. That's happened once or twice! But to imply anything it wrong with him outside of his control - no, no that's something he wouldn't even put in the others mind. Unfortunately, as he tunes back into the other conversation at work here, that control quickly slips out of his hands.

Why? Because it seems his younger self has finally settled on asking his last question, despite the way he'd clearly been second guessing it.

"I.. I JUST WANT TO KNOW BEFORE I ASK ANYTHING ELSE - WHY DON'T YOU LIKE ME? DOES IT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE CRACK I GET..?"

White, almost static-y silver blood. Both Fords are startled, really, for a second watching the scattered droplets fall to the ground at the sudden biting going on. He's seen times when Bill has been hurt, as rare an event that was in itself. From his quantum destabilizer punching a hole right through his hat, to when Mabel had sprayed him in the eye. Any other reports never gave any indication of this. It's fascinating to the point of distraction - by the time the young ghost - though ghost almost seemed like the wrong word for this, given the clear fact that despite the otherworldly glow both past versions of their selves had, they seemed more than capable of fully interacting with the space around them - had managed to climb his way to his shoulder, Ford has only just noticed as the young triangle spat the remaining blood upon the ground. Bill Cipher is perching on his shoulder like a parrot. A younger, somehow just as loud Bill Cipher before the destruction of his home, but it was still Bill. It takes all the willpower Ford has in the world to immediately not brush the triangle off as his shoulders tensed, before his ears were being assaulted by his questions. Thankfully, they weren't terrible questions to answer. And if it was in the pursuit of knowledge, he could handle this, surely. Better keep the explanation simple though, for someone who didn't have all the terminology needed to possibly understand the depths of knowledge needed to understand a third dimensional world. "I have two eyes in order to better differentiate the distance between two objects as the different angles our eyes see create a single image of the world. It's called binocular vision. Useful for living in a third dimensional world."

He found it surprisingly easy to shift into a rhythm of answering despite the matter of who he was talking to. "As for what it is in the middle of - well, that's my face - human beings have it separate from our torsos unlike shapes like yourself, whether Exwhylians - a 2D world I had the pleasure of visiting - or Euclydians like yourself. As you can see, our mouths are separate unlike yours. A nose for smelling, and ears for listening." His pen was pointed to each body part as he spoke. It may not have been what the triangle asked but - well, even if this was just a past glimmer of Cipher or some kind of alternate dimensional version, he'd rather just get it over with explaining. Plus, it was quite a bit easier to do that then focus on the reality of the situation and how absurd it was in a way. Including his younger self. A grimace briefly crossed his features, as he glanced at him and Bill, momentarily. "And yes, that's me. As for the six fingers, not quite." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "An abnormality and birth defect. Humans normally have five." He's not sure how to feel about the fact that the young Cipher found it to be.... cool. "As for how it's like..." He paused, trying to think of a good explanation. How to describe it to someone who was living on a flat plane the entire time? "... A what almost one can feel to be an endless expanse to be able to explore both upwardly and into the depths below. For me, it's normal." He paused. "For you, I'm guessing this is quite the experience." An experience that Bill must have went through several trillion years ago. How must that have been the first time? Trying not to dwell on that thought - Ford tried to brush the thought away. Ford has been resisting any urge to glance back at Bill until the younger triangle's attention was once more diverted to him - glancing his way just in time to see the red before it quickly reverted. Pa. For a moment, both Fords looked surprised - the information being processed for them both. It was the older of the two Fords who broke that gaze first, quickly refocusing his attention. Sure it was the first bit of information Ford really knew about Bill's parents beyond what Jheselbraum had informed him of, but he could write that down later in his spare time, when he had time to properly illustrate the image of the red that Bill took when he got angry. For now though, he had his own set of questions to ask the young triangle - even if technically he had asked more than three.

"As for my questions... well, I have quite a number. Do your limbs darken over time? I'm not quite aware of matters of shape biology. What is your world's name?" He could take a guess, based on the structure of the term Euclydian but he'd rather be sure when recording notes. There is a moment of thought about what should be his last question for now. There were so many, but... "Oh! What about your written language? How do you communicate with each other besides verbally?" It's a question that had been long on his mind since he had first found Exywhylia. In such a 2D plane, normal written language didn't seem efficient. There had to be something more to it, and it was something he was eager to learn. A dead language was not something one was able to learn just any day of the week after all, and he always enjoyed the task of challenging himself at learning a new one. While Ford has busied himself with posing the questions... well, Stanford was trying to keep up with them as well as focus on Bill. Listening in onto his grizzled self as well as listen to Bill properly, though Fordsy? The look on Stanford's face is absolutely taken aback by the statement - eyes stretching wide, and vaguely aware of a rush of warmth in his chest. That was new. At least for him. Gathering by the way he could see his 'present' self tense at the usage though with a certain lack of surprise, it wasn't something new to him. If anything, such a ... nickname usage should have meant they even closer than they were before. This wasn't like Sixer, IQ, or any of the other terms that Bill had come to calling him. This wIt's not adding up. Not entirely at the moment. From the nickname, to the pure loathing that Ford seemed to show for Bill suggested that there were many complexities to the situation. Complexities that he couldn't possibly grasp with his limited view of the situation. But that didn't mean he wouldn't heed his muse's words. Especially at the promise of new information, coming from him directly. His gaze brightened at the prospect, clamping down on the uncertainties he had as he focused on that. All he had to do was snatch the younger triangle. Should be relatively easy to do, especially with an older man. He wasn't the only one who had been keeping a careful look on the other pair however - for when the younger Stanford moved towards Ford, it wasn't long before the older one spun around, casting a baleful glower at his younger self and moving to put distance between the two of them, eyes narrowing as he did. Any excitement the present Ford had for meeting his younger self had long since been shifted towards the more interesting target to talk to. All he was doing was proving himself to be an annoyance right now at best, and an oblivious idiot at worst. Was he really like this once? Even with the glare coming his way, the brown-haired ghost wasn't quite deterred. Not yet at any rate, as he moved to approach again. "Come on," Stanford gently urged. "This clearly isn't the best way to do this. Let me just-" "Don't," Ford said - his tone forceful and gaze hardening as the other approached. "Why would you even believe a word that is spewed out of his mouth?" Ford said, a scowl forming on his face, backing up in order to put more space between himself and the younger ghost version of himself. It was hard to ignore the surge of frustration that rose in Stanford's gut at this. Both at his older self and- the not knowing. He wasn't an idiot. But the lack of context he had was frustrating him to no end, as he narrowed his eyes, words sharpening. "Because he's-"

"Your work partner? Your friend?" There's that scoffing again, as his older self interrupted him. He was so focused on the building ire he was having with his younger self - for the moment, his shoulder companion was all but forgotten. "Tell me this about yourself: Do you really think a future you would be so angry at Cipher for no reason at all? And do you really believe that crack is a 'new look?'" There's a... stiffening in the younger ghost's form. Not entirely. He had chosen to believe in Bill's words but that's because he trusted Bill. And clearly, his future self didn't - nor did Bill trust him in return. What had caused that trust to shatter between the two of them?

"He's lying to you - it's what he does. That's all he does." The bitterness that lay beneath the words is clear. He had thought he had grown past this bitterness. That he had grown past, all of this. But with Bill here... it was like all the feelings he had pushed past were being dredged up once more against his will. And with his younger self here - it just made things worse. "You're the me from the past. You'd think if he had no problem with you learning the information, he wouldn't have any problem with me learning the information."

Speaking of the information - he had nearly forgotten the other Bill in this equation for a while. For a moment, he glanced at his shoulder, his lips pursed. He really hoped he hadn't upset the younger triangle with how vitriolic he had undoubtedly sounded earlier to the point of not being willing to answer. "... You're fine though. My apologies for the interruption. I'd... like to continue our exchange," he said, the words coming out a bit more gruff than he had been speaking before to the younger triangle but- well, while he was still extremely disquieted by the younger Bill- this wasn't quite yet the one who had been tried to destroy his world, who had put him through the worst times of his life, who had destroyed his own world- At least, not yet, he thought.

As for the younger Stanford... well, he's stopped moving towards them for now, giving a side look to Bill, trying to gauge his response and see if he had any words in his defense, trying to wrestle with the logic that had just been put in front of him. It... made sense, in a way. But it still didn't make this- this right. Did it?

[ciphertone-a]

The name alone is more than he knew previously, and more than he wanted him to know - more than he wanted to be reminded of, either. He's seen the connections his brain can make when invested in something - the portal, the multiverse, his demise. This crumb of information is enough for him to theorize on for weeks if he wanted to, and he doesn't even want to give him the chance. He ignores any protests from himself, trying to just register him as dead weight he's dragging along behind him until this whole thing is over, but apparently nothing can be easy. There's resistance, and the glare leveled back at Sixer is pure venom; but he's not the only one glaring.

As he tries to pull harder, his counterpart scowls back at him before his eye transforms into a mouth, biting the arm holding him back. White blood that shines with static flows from the puncture, a second limb sprouting from the culprits side shortly after and taking advantage of the brief surprise, prying himself free. There’s a snarl at the action, but before he can grab again, the smaller shape has climbed their way up Sixers coat and perched on his shoulder. Apparently height is the best defense here. His eye briefly scrunches at the bitter taste lingering, which is promptly spat out onto the ground. He's not surprised by it - he'd bitten more than his fair share of shapes at home - but it never makes it pleasant. After that though, he goes right back to the conversation at hand.

"A BETTER QUESTION WOULD BE WHAT I DON'T HAVE TO ASK - I DON'T KNOW WHY HE DOESN'T WANT ME TALKING TO YOU, BUT I KNOW WHAT I WANT. AND I WANT TO! OKAY, QUESTIONS - WHY DO YOU HAVE TWO EYES? THEY'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR... WHATEVER THAT - " his hands motion vaguely towards his whole face. - IS TOO? IS THAT YOU? LIKE HOW THAT'S ME?" He gestures to the younger scientist, and then to his currently fuming look a like. "I CAN TELL BECAUSE OF THE FINGERS - AND THE EVERYTHING ELSE. ARE THEY USUALLY LIKE THAT? I ONLY HAVE FOUR. YOURS ARE WAY COOLER, I THINK. OH, AND WHAT IS IT.. LIKE. HERE. IN THE THIRD DIMENSION? THAT'S THREE, SO YOU OWE ME THREE ANSWERS, AND YOU CAN ASK ME THREE AFTERWARDS."

The wording around present isn't as disconcerting to him - it just means whatever his future self knows, he'll figure out soon enough, right? Seeing as his future self is here, with all these people, it just means things would work out for him eventually! Not that he doesn't have some questions - mostly about the blue crack going across his form, and why he's so... well, like that. Different then how he ever thought he'd turn out. Mean. He'd like to know, but he can tell he doesn't want to talk to him, so... what's the harm in talking to the A Human Being who definitely does want to talk?

On the flip side, present Bills frustration at this whole situation is overwhelming, briefly causing him to flash red - something his younger self zeros in on. All too casually, there’s a cackle before he remarks -

“YOU LOOK LIKE PA WHEN YOU DO THAT.”

His palette instantly reverts back to yellow, completely taken off guard by it. For a moment anything he'd thought to say is lost. Like Pa. Right. Pa was red , wasn't he? He'll have to remember that. Not that he wants to - the comparison has his eye wrinkle in disgust once he processes that and it's implications.

His gaze shifts to the brown haired ghost still with them. He was still on his side, here - he should leverage that. The fact that looking at this whole situation, he felt pity, a sort of.. defensiveness, on his behalf? Like he needed it. It's odd, to see Sixer, who held him on such a pedestal, feel sorry for him. As much as he loathes it, it's something he can use to his advantage at the moment, and something he must. Mind you, he won't play into needing any help, but he will pull at those threads that make him want to act. He forces his expression to lighten, and addresses Sixer with the most even, muse like tone he can manage.

"DESPITE WHAT HE SAYS, I KNOW WHAT'S BETTER FOR THE BOTH OF US - FORDSY, CAN YOU DO ME A FAVOR AND GRAB HIM? YOU CAN ASK HIM WHATEVER YOU WANT. I'D JUST RATHER IT BE YOU THEN HIM - I MEAN, HE'S ALREADY HOARDING UP ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE ABOUT ME, I THINK HE CAN LIVE WITHOUT THIS ONE. BESIDES, I CAN TELL YOU IT MYSELF RATHER THEN HIM GOING AROUND ME FOR IT, CAN'T I?"

In reality, the real reason is that he doesn't care what either past version learns - they'll both disappear, and any knowledge gained will go right along with them. He'd rather it go unspoken entirely, but if he had to pick between who learns what, he'd rather it not be the one who can remember any of it.

Euclidian. The word is almost immediately jotted down into the journal. A similar enough naming scheme to the Exwhylians - though while clearly their world's naming scheme related to the cartesian coordinate system, this world clearly more simply lined up with euclidean geometry. An interesting thing to note. Were there a collective of 2D-worlds and their inhabitants named similarly, or was this just a coincidence? There was no time to dwell on it any further, as soon enough Bill was yanking his younger self away, right in the middle of talking

This was a once in a chance opportunity. He wasn't going to let it pass on by him.

Ford felt himself scoff at the nosy comment - as if Bill of all people cared about that for anyone else given his track record- before quickly following behind - and moving to grab the other hand of the younger Bill's. "Seems like your present self doesn't want the two of us speaking. But I think it would be productive for us both to keep speaking regardless. What's another question you have?" His smile is strained somewhat, and he fixed his brown steely glare onto the present Bill, lids slightly narrowed. Without his powers... well, Ford's pretty sure if he wanted to, he could punt him across the field right now. One that was long over-due, frankly enough. Though it would probably be satisfying to do so, even if it wouldn't be conducive to any questions he may have for the younger Bill. So even if the temptation was there, he'd refrain. For now. An opportunity to learn about Bill should have felt like the best thing in the world for the other Stanford as well. To know his species name was already a rare piece of information he wouldn't have had without this specific situation. In all This felt... wrong though. Warped, in a way that he couldn't quite put into simple words. After all, this was not like when Bill had shown him the singular speck that was left of his old dimension. This was something that was clearly unwanted - forced even. How must Bill be feeling, having to face his past face-to-face like this - and hearing about his home dimension, knowing what ultimately happened to it? While he wouldn't absolutely presume to know the other Ford's feelings, with only being able to take a stab in the dark over what caused this rift.

Whatever event had taken place had to be significant enough to disregard ... future? Present (a rather disturbing thought to be having, considering what that meant for himself) ... Bill. and keep on pressing regardless of how the triangle may have felt about it one way or another. "Maybe some things shouldn't be pressed," Stanford said, coming to his older self's side - and earning himself a stray glare.

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At least there's one Sixer here who's willing to listen. Hopefully. It's a battle of his loyalty and his desire for knowledge - and, more enticingly, knowledge about him - he'd like to say he'd win out on that front, but he can't quite be certain. He's less worried about him learning anything though, considering he's fairly sure nothing should transfer. He can just disappear at the end of this conversation and anything learned can go right with him. Even if part of him would like it to last a little longer, considering he hasn't seen Sixer look at him with that genuine admiration in so long. He probably won't again. The thought is pathetic - he smothers it as quickly as it appears, and tells himself he just misses how malleable he used to be. Not a lie, but half truths are his favorite anyways, aren't they? At least he believes that the new scars are just a fashion statement. If he bought that so easily, keeping him on his side here should be easy.

As for the current, harder to pry away Sixer - the fact he's smiling at all, even if it's hesitant, is infuriating. He knows exactly why that is; he's excited to pick him apart. It's something of a hobby for Sixer, and he's not unaware of it - he knows that he'd toyed with the idea of.. finding his home dimension when he was dimension hopping, he knows that Sixer knows things about him, and in the back of his mind, keeps those those puzzle pieces on hand. That's fine. What he takes issue with is the opportunity to actually put any of those together. He was never supposed to gain that, and the scathing look given to him as Sixer glances his way says as much. He would never willingly give up those answers, and he never wanted him to have them.

So of course, he continues anyways, and his younger self is all too eager to respond.

"A HUMAN BEING? HUH. WEIRD! I LIKE IT. WELL, MINE ISN'T AS INTERESTING AS A HUMAN BEING - I'M A EUCLIDIAN, IF YOU WANNA BE FANCY ABOUT IT, OR A SHAPE IF YOU DON'T! AND WE - HEY!"

They're abruptly pulled away as Bill successfully grabs them at the wrist, pulling them further away from Sixer. If one was paying attention, he seemed.. oddly troubled at the word Euclidian. Enough so that the smaller one managed to get more than that out, but he wasn't intent on letting anything more than that slip. He's quite literally dragging the other further away, even if they dig their heels into the ground, clearly upset that he’s acting this way - why can’t he just talk to him, he’s spent his whole life waiting for this chance, LET HIM GO ,

“WELL, THIS HAS BEEN FUN, BUT I THINK THAT’S MORE THAN ENOUGH! SMART GUY, YOU SHOULD DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND MAKE SURE YOU DON’T TURN OUT LIKE HIM - YOU'RE JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF NOSY, AND HE'S TOO NOSY FOR HIS OWN GOOD."

Very much a backhanded insult, while trying to be subtle enough about it to not make the other too tipped off to.. everything. Either way, he's not letting this go on any longer! He's walking off with the other, ignoring any protests along the way.

Stanford Pines wasn't exactly sure what was going on here. Coming face to face with a thirty years his senior version of himself was unexpected. To find that combined with his greatest friend in the world was quite unexpected - especially since the former seemed to hold the latter in distaste. There had to be some reasoning in there, he was sure. But the look that his older self had given him... Stanford couldn't say for sure, but he was sure that his older self didn't just hate Bill from that. Questions were on the tip of his tongue but... maybe he should give his older self a moment to cool off, instead looking at Bill again, a hesitant smile on his features. Plus, if his muse said to ignore him...

"... If you say you're alright, I'll believe you." Even as he says it, he looked over the blue jagged line on Bill's body, looking carefully at the way it split. But if Bill didn't want to - it wasn't his place to question it any further. "It does help bring out your eye color more." Resisting the urge to turn around and snap once again at his younger self on the other hand was... harder than Ford would have liked. Especially when it was happening so blatantly in front of him. But he had something else he was focusing on - that single eye poking out curiously, even as Bill tried to mirror his movements to hide it. Even Stanford's attention was on whatever was behind Bill instead of on Bill himself. So when it stepped out well... both of the Fords gave a pause.

He really hadn't expected to see that young of a Cipher. Now that was new. At first, Ford had thought it would have brought their past selves from the same point in time, or at least similar point in time. And he looked different. Smaller for one, which was already pretty small already. No top hat and a blue bowtie instead of the usual classy black. And yellow limbs? His brown eyes trace the triangle's figure, taking in the fascination. It was... strange to see it coming from Bill, though he quickly honed in on what he had said. A question for a question? That much he could do. A small smile drew over his lips, even if it reflected the younger Ford's hesitation. "I'm quite alright with exchanging questions and answers. I'm a human being. As for my question..." Should he be doing this? For a moment, his gaze slides towards current Bill. Obviously, he'd never get any information willingly from him. And anything he did say would probably just be lies spun. And he clearly didn't want Ford to talk to him - this wasn't like the book that had been dropped off multiple times at the Shack, enticing him with mysteries that would surely only lead him back into Cipher's clutches. This was a version of Bill that Bill himself didn't want Ford to talk to clearly. If anything, this would be Ford's one chance ever to get some of his questions answered. Where's the harm in that, especially when this was an untapped gold mine of information? With that settled in his mind, he opened his journal to a fresh page, eager to write down whatever he was told.

"Can you tell me a little about your species?" Leaving it vague and open-ended- enough to possibly gain more information should he want it, and could even lead in to questions about Bill's world. More-so than what little he had been told already, that is.. What an exciting notion!

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Sixer isn't the only one who has the muse statement take him by surprise - given, he had been expecting it more than the other; hearing it regardless is still jarring. His eye briefly widens before he blinks, turning upwards into a smile. His odds of hearing that title from the other again were low by now - even if he did hope - so actually getting that was something he briefly basks in. Even if something does briefly twist, snagging on some remaining sentiment towards those somewhat simpler times, and maybe some lost fragments of what could've maybe been. Hearing actual, genuine concern from the other over him, well.. it really only compacts ontop of those feelings, although it does a good job of making him realize they aren't the priority here. Luckily, he can navigate that situation better than anything else going on here.

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM - I'M FINE. JUST TRYING OUT A NEW LOOK! IT'S MYSTERIOUS, ISN'T IT? I THINK MORE BLUE WORKS FOR ME."

A hand raises to strike a pose, although he quickly thinks better of it when the voice behind him quietly asks what a muse even is, using it to push him behind him once more. His strategy right now is acting casual about the whole thing, hoping it'll reduce suspicions and possible questions asked. Even if nothing about this situation is really cooperating on that front, himself included. He moves as Sixer does, looking to continue blocking his view as best he could - seeing the glance he gives towards his younger self, the dots are already connecting. Unfortunately. The eye squints back at him, although it looks less suspicious and more curious - almost like he just can't get a good look at him.

"NOT ANYTHING YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT. MAYBE YOU SHOULD GET YOUR EYES CHECKED, BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING -"

And before he can finish the sentence, the triangle he'd been hiding simply sidesteps into plain sight.

"IGNORE THAT. NOTHING HERE IS REAL, AND NEITHER IS THAT!"

A hand reaches to snatch them back, but he simply steps further away from it - closer towards Sixer, actually, although that seems like more of an accident from overshooting the dodge. If he was actually here, in the third dimension, why would he want to hide? Why would he be hiding himself? He had so many questions to ask, but he wasn't exactly getting any answers - not out of himself, anyways, so maybe he should just ask this person instead. They weren't anyone or anything from home; maybe they'd be more inclined to answer? His voice is equally as loud, but it lacks all the typical malice and is instead replaced with fascination.

"WHAT ARE YOU? IF YOU ANSWER ME I'LL ANSWER YOU."

"You're... me?" Seeing the awe on his younger self's face, looking him over was a strange feeling. Especially when his eyes traveled across him, stopping at the sight of the new journal Ford has fashioned for himself, as well as - well, he quickly shifted his hands so his knuckles weren't visible. "How is this even possible?" "Clearly. As for how..." Ford gave a slightly strained smile. This was an opportunity in his face - not every day you got to meet a literal ghost of your own past, after all, but seeing a younger version of himself that looked so unburdened was bringing up a mix of feelings he didn't really want to address. However, his attention soon shifted as another spoke up. His facial expression grew into a scowl at the sound of the voice, immediately spinning around to glare at the all-too familiar being. This was just his luck, with Cipher having showed up here as well, during whatever this was. One expansive world, and even then he couldn't seem to escape being near him. Opening his mouth, Ford was about to unrelease a retort, until... "My muse!" Oh, how Ford couldn't help but cringe outwardly at the sudden exclamation from his other self. Maybe he could have handled hearing Bill's name said without venom in his tone - but this? This was much worse, showing the clear naiveite he had at the time, as well as the fondness . His expression was akin to someone that sucked on a lemon as the younger Ford went on, looking ready to answer the question earnestly - until his brown eyes carefully looked over Bill, concern flitting upon his face. "Are... you okay?" "Don't call him that," Ford snapped at his younger self - glaring at him as well for a moment. He ignored the look of confusion, mixed with surprise and annoyance that his younger self flashed him as he turned back towards Bill. "What are you doing here?" His gaze shifting slightly to... see whatever was behind Bill, before stepping closer and to the side, trying to gain a look. It looked like an eye but- It couldn't be- could it? Then again, with a quick glance at his younger self... Well considering that, it was a possibility that was not exactly impossible anymore.

"... What's that?" Or perhaps the question was actually who? Still, he's definitely coming closer to try and take a look.

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In contrast, Bill was more or less... well, happy was a stretch, but fine with being here. Fine, because right now, he was fine with being anywhere aside from where he'd been previously. Seriously. He's silently been hoping each eclipse that whatever foreign force descends upon this place, placing people in and out skips over him. When he leaves, it'll be because he's worked out a plan and outsmarted this place - not because he's getting dragged back into therapy. Getting a proper job somewhere chock full of this places history was a good start to piecing the puzzle together, but there was still more to do. What that entailed is.. something he's figuring out along the way, but still! It's likely the best plan he can get, considering the less than ideal circumstances he's doing it under.

Still, since he'd be here a while, getting a good idea of the place seemed to be in his best interest. He'd already been doing that, yes, but nothing seems to be enough when it slips out of his memory as easily as things do now. He wants it memorized. So, when a new - was it really new, or was it just one he'd forgotten - pathway shows up, of course he takes it. Who would he be if he didn't take the most spontaneous route?

He.. quickly finds himself regretting that choice. After a small bit of walking, the walkway opens itself up into a grassy glen. That wouldn't be much of a big deal, maybe a little bit boring if anything, if that was all there was to it. Before he properly notices anyone else here, his eye zeros in on something far worse than Sixer's company.

His own.

He's notably smaller than his present self, edges rounded to reflect his youth, completely yellow from upper angle to the tips of his limbs. He hasn't said anything yet, eye wide as he simply stares at his surroundings in sheer wonder. In that moment, he can't help but briefly wonder how that must feel; seeing the rest of the world reflect how he'd perceived things, things properly pointing upwards, having proper depth and dimension to them, mirroring himself rather than othering him - he quickly extinguishes that thought. His eye briefly averts from what's clearly his younger self somehow, to see just how dire this situation was.

Finding Sixer of all people - two, actually - is just about the worst thing he could’ve expected. It quickly becomes obvious that he has to reel this situation in somehow. Looking back to himself, he shares that same semi-transparency as the other - it’s likely that neither of them are really real. Something he’d find fun under any other circumstances! The only good thing here is he could recognize the fact that Sixer number two is certainly from his younger and dumber phase - something he could hopefully use here. He moves quickly, making a shushing motion to his smaller self before standing in front of them, hoping to hide them behind himself. Something that only works with limited success, seeing the large eye that peeks out from him regardless. Somewhat hushed ( for he could never truly be quiet ) questions are clearly being asked towards him, but another shush is all that’s given in return - he is not trying to make small talk right now, and definitely not with the present company around.

"WELL WELL WELL, IF IT ISN’T MY FAVORITE HUMAN. COME TO THIS PART OF THE FOREST OFTEN?”

His goal of cataloging the world was going more slowly than initially expected. Mostly because he was taking his time, and biding it carefully. Especially when a part of him was struggling with the idea of putting down roots, especially if such things weren't likely to stay with them once they had gone back? After all - so many forced residents from other dimensions appeared and disappeared all the time. How long could he reasonably expect to stick around with all this? But it had been now a couple of months. Being brought back quickly was seeming less and less likely over time. Might as well plan for the future in the meantime. One such goal that was 'down the line if he stayed here that long' was seeing a specimen of the 'sapphire butterfly', even if it had a completely uninspired name. While it may be a goal long down the road - well, maybe he should. He had intended for today to be a scouting day into seeing where the pixies lived in the Forest of Airaisal in order to avoid them in the future. Except... at one point or another, he was sure he had got turned around at some point. Mapping the forest had turned out to be a more trouble than it may be worth. Still - a part of Ford was determined to push on through still, even if it meant a night of being out here. That was until a path mysteriously opened up. Some would say it would probably to ignore such a path altogether. And those people would be the ones to not find out the mystery behind it.

Still, he did wish he was a little more armed. He really did need to see about getting some kind of replacement for his weapon sooner than later, didn't he? He shook those thoughts off as he quickly went down the new trail, ready to find out what lay ahead. Soon enough, he found himself entering a glen. For just a moment, he smiled at the sight. What a beautiful place. But... that also wasn't that impressive. There had to be something more to this place, wasn't there? Slowly, he began to move his gaze, scanning the area until... He froze, his eyes locking onto another figure within it.

"That's... impossible." Ford stared at the image that looked back at him, unable to stop himself from simply gaping at what he saw. A face that was his own, but thirty one years younger, with his expression mirroring the surprise, on Ford's own.

And he was see-through. An apparition of some kind, perhaps? A hallucination, perhaps? Only one way to find out, really, wasn't there? At least things couldn't possibly get any weirder than this...

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