Title: flickering
Warnings: Hearing voices similar to intrusive thoughts (the voices are from sentient fire, not from the character’s own mind), pyromania, session 3 spoilers
~*~
Tango might be hearing things.
That is, beyond what the rest of his friends have already been joking about this entire session. The secret task bestowed upon him seemed like pure hilarity at first: pretend to have an imaginary friend. And he had to go all out, too, having imaginary conversations in the presence of other people. He wasn’t confident enough in his improv skills to pull it off without some kind of prop, though, so he’d assigned the role of imaginary friend to a torch in his inventory.
Torchy, a new best friend for the resident blaze hybrid on the server. Hilarious.
Except, as the hours went on… carrying Torchy around and randomly placing it down… hosting one-sided conversations with a piece of burning wood while his friends watched on with baffled amusement… it started to get a little less hilarious. Because he started to imagine that he could actually hear Torchy talking back to him.
Looks bad. Burn it. Kill him.
Just pleasant little things like that. It made for great conversation fodder; nothing turned heads on this server faster than a randomly overheard, “No, no, we can’t kill him!” And it was funny to carry on that kind of dialogue, chastising a flaming stick for its apparent bloodlust. The looks on his friends’ faces were priceless.
But at the end of the session, after Tango had been found out and failed his task, after everyone bid their farewells and went their separate ways to end the session… he hears it again; a flickering whisper of a voice in his ears.
Burn it.
It startles Tango so badly, his blaze rods ignite. “Aaagh- who? What?!” He spins around, flames spitting.
“Huh?” Skizz pokes his head up from behind their little clump of chests, his wing flared out in surprise. “What happened?”
Tango clutches his pounding heart. “Did you- did you say something, Skizz?” he asks breathlessly.
“What, just now? No?” Skizz frowns, then his eyes widen. “Oh, wait, I get it…” He chuckles. “Very funny dude, but uh, you can drop the ‘imaginary friend’ thing now.”
Burn him. Kill him.
There it is again. “No, I’m not…” Tango hesitates, glancing around warily. “You seriously can’t hear that?”
Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.
Now Skizz looks a little concerned, rising to his feet. “Uh- no? What?” He takes a few steps towards Tango, holding out a hand. “You okay, buddy?”
Tango rakes his claws through his hair. “Th- the whispering, the…” Swallowing, he creeps a bit closer to Skizz- and as he does so, he happens to move closer to a random torch. The voice gets louder.
Free us. Join us. Let it all burn.
There’s a chunk of solid ice in Tango’s stomach. “I think it’s coming from the torches,” he whispers.
Skizz stares at him for a moment before he sighs bemusedly, shaking his head. “Oh, brother. You’ve been talking to yourself all session, dude, I think you’re starting to hear things.” He claps a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy, and I’ll see you back here next week, alright?”
Skizz doesn’t hear it. Tango makes himself laugh. “Right, yeah. You’re right. See ya.”
With a parting smile, Skizz logs off.
Tango waits. Soon enough, the voice returns. The whispering is now a chant, a dull roar echoing in his skull.
He’s gone. Burn it. Burn it all. Sets us free, let us spread. Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.
Tango’s heart is in his throat. He can see it, in his mind’s eye; the soft pink cherry blossoms engulfed in flame, a ring of smoke outlining the entire island… his inner fire thrums with want, with need.
Yes, yes, burn it all…
The smell of burning snaps him out of his trance. His clawed fingertips are pinching a cherry blossom from a low-hanging branch, a trail of smoke rising between them. Wait, when did he walk over to the tree? Quickly plucking the flower, he incinerates it in his clenched fist, the flame extinguished as soon as it’d ignited.
And now he’s got a handful of ash. Great.
Okay, that’s it- he’s gotta get off this crazy server. It’s all these stupid tasks! They’re totally messing with his head. The secrecy, the deception, the mind games- he just needs a break. He needs to go back to something familiar, some place where things make sense.
Tapping his communicator, he brings up a portal.
Tango steps through it into Hermitcraft, into blue flames and his dungeon master’s robes. He blinks, acclimating to the change of light. He’s in the underbelly of Decked Out 2, of course- most of his time this week has been spent working on the redstone for level four. And over the months, he’s taken care to light everything up (because a single creeper in the skadoodler could derail his entire operation here) so there are torches everywhere…
And he hears nothing.
Just the idle sounds of the dungeon above him. The occasional warden sniff or ravager growl, bats squeaking in the dark. A slime slapping against stone somewhere in the distance. He can even hear the ambient flickering of the countless torches around him, but no freaky voices accompany it.
Tango exhales heavily. It was just the Secret Life server messing with his head, after all. Relieved, he ignites a rocket to take off, whirling through the air in the tight hair-pin turns required to escape from the dungeon’s inner workings. He swoops into his storage room and dives into the bubble-vator, arriving swiftly back in the citadel.
Hopping off the platform and into the air, Tango glides toward his private entrance to the lobby. He needs to go cover up the barrel at the start so he can make a couple changes to the dungeon. Nothing major, maybe just an extra warden or two. Ideas for names are already flashing through his mind. Debating whether to go intimidating or silly, he’s so deep in thought as he passes through the lobby that he almost doesn’t notice it at first. But as he walks past the soul flames, he hears it.
The flicker of a familiar voice- though more haunting, now, almost mournful- whispering in his ears.
Join us. Burn them. Eat them all.
~*~
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((Oh boy, I had such an awesome break through with my new OC!
Her WIP name is Phyllis “Phyl” Fletcher, but she also goes by Retrospect.
She is a private investigator with a special power: when she’s wearing her plague doctor’s mask, she can retrace the path of anyone as long as she’s following their path within a certain time limit. She’ll also have to know something about who she’s following to get into their head enough to activate her power (it also manifests subtly; it’s like a strong pull towards a place; like an itching sensation).
I want to make her power dependent on her mask because I think it could add a nice bit of drama for her power to be something that she can’t just do on demand without potentially attracting unwanted attention, but I don’t yet know the reason why she needs the mask.
She’s an overall good-natured young adult, but has a bit of a secretive side because she doesn’t want people she can’t trust knowing about her power (and y’know, people would probably think she’s crazy if she said anything about it and any of her clients already think she’s strange because of the mask thing [since she also hides her identity during jobs as much as possible]).
She’s also big into puzzle books.
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Decided to polish some jacket designs!
Emmet originally received a strait from the League after they thought he posed a safety risk to others and mandated him to wear it. Big surprise, they literally just went to a Unovan hospital and asked if they had any of the old jackets lying around. It's ill-fitting and unpleasant, not to mention the hasty edits they made to his uniform to act as a secondary restraint looks awful. As much as he is still operating as usual, having to walk around in the strait is humiliating and dehumanizing, especially because of the stares from other people.
Of course this crime against dignity and fashion had to be corrected, so Elesa called her designers and offered to make the League Council a more appropriate uniform for him. The only rule given was that it must still restrain as well as the original straitjacket, so Elesa ended up modelling the jacket after a vest and the secondary restraint after a double-breasted greatcoat. It's meant to look like clothing, more like everyday wear than something out of an asylum. It also uses hand covers (i.e. socks) instead of a grossly oversized sleeve to keep the hands restrained.
It resolves a lot of the issues Emmet had with the original, namely that it blends in with the crowd rather than making him stick out. It also has an air of professionalism and formality that the original didn't have. He's much more willing to wear it and keep it on, as well as being more comfortable in it.
I'm struggling to describe this in sentences so as for the differences:
League Straitjacket:
actual retired straitjacket from hospital storage
made of old canvas and leather
uses oversized belted sleeves to restrain arms
uses belts and buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back
can't fit anything thicker than a tank top underneath
Elesa's Modified Straitvest:
bespoke articles custom tailored to Emmet's measurements
made from stiff cotton and fabric staps
uses belted cuffs and hand covers to restrain arms
uses straps and locking slide buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back
able to fit a collared shirt underneath
Elesa's outfit also has the added bonus of being more breathable, soft, and being able to function as regular clothes.
Anyways bonus sketch comic:
Dignity restored.
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