#ok enough tag rambling thank you wiggins!!!!! feels good to flex those atrophied writing muscles

[boonmeams]

6 and uh. every dsmp ship has fallen out of my mind. geroge xd?? idk have fun keeys

6. eerie/melody

On the sixth day, or maybe the seventh, George asks for an instrument.

The problem is and always has been that George gets bored too easily. He knows this about himself. And sure, he gets why XD has him here, in this weird pocket dimension or whatever it is. It comes with the territory of being doted on by a hyper-powerful deity thing. It’s overprotective, and George needs protecting, supposedly.

He’s still bored. There’s a cottage here, bookshelves full of books that George couldn't care less about reading, a garden that he couldn’t care less about tending. He’s weighted by a terrific and all-encompassing ennui that tracks him with every step. He’s bored, but he doesn’t want to do anything. He’s exhausted, but he sleeps for sixteen hours a day. He can’t do much more of that.

So he asks for an instrument. A set of pipes, a guitar, anything. Something to do with his hands, something to fill the silence of the woods. He's a little surprised when XD obliges without question, tilting Its head curiously and then reaching into Its cloak. When It pulls Its hand free, it’s clutching a shiny-dark lute that It offers up to George. 

George settles cross-legged in the grass and weighs it in his hands. The body fits nicely in his lap, the neck is smooth against his palm. Something about pressing his fingers to the strings evokes the feeling of holding a bow, which brings about a sickening wave of déjà vu that he’s sort of getting used to now. When he tries thinking too hard about where he came from, this happens. A dizziness, a sense of unrest. 

He shakes his head and plucks each string in order. Perfectly tuned. He offers up a smile to XD, and It seems to stand up a little straighter.

“Thanks,” George says belatedly, strumming clumsily and out of tune. He’s out of practice, he knows, but he manages to work his fingers into the right places for a couple of shaky chords. Like this, he can pick out a series of notes to make a delicate sort of melody that turns his stomach. A memory, then. He knows this song, though he doesn’t know from where, and XD certainly isn’t going to tell him.

He pushes through the nausea and keeps playing; it’s a sweet song, as much as it brings a bitter taste to his mouth. What is he forgetting? It’s precipitous, like he’s one step away from shuddering out of his own skin.

george, says XD, and it startles George into strumming a sour chord. His thumb slips on the high string and he pulls it away, shoves it in his mouth before he can bleed on the lute. 

“What,” George says around his thumb. His hands are shaking and he’s sweating, head pounding faintly. 

stop for now, it says. rest for now.

There’s power in XD’s words. George knows this, and he finds that he can’t push back against It as he lays back in the grass, curling up on his side. XD pulls the lute carefully from his hand and George closes his eyes. He’s abruptly so exhausted that he can’t keep them open.

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