Inbox for ryslig

[polarvoid]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 *** CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS has joined 018.07.154.55 <Daisy>This is Basil! I'm not around right now, but if you leave a message I'll get back to it as soon as I can. <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- sample for when you ban someone <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <USERNAME> First sentence of message.

Comments

cw: mild emeto

[zoomingupthathill]

[ The only reaction she's ever had was Vecna's, manufactured to hurt her.

"You ever have thoughts like that about me?"
"Normal people don't fantasize about killing other people, Max."
"I thought you were getting better. But you're not, are you? You are sick."

The lie's all she's had, and overtime, it's become her one and only truth. Her single reference point for how someone would react. It was what she feared. It's started to paste over what experience and logic dictate Lucas would've said—that it was okay. That she'd been through so much. That he didn't hate her.

It's just what Basil's saying now.

Max cries so hard it hurts. So hard her useless organs ache inside her. She tries shaking her head, but she's trembling. She's shivering too hard to do much but sob until she starts to cough.

And...keep coughing. She worries for a moment she's going to cough until she breaks apart. Wouldn't that be awful, literally crumbling in Basil's arms, dying again literally on top of someone she cares about?

It turns out it's not that, however, and she realizes with only moments to move, very suddenly starting to shove Basil away. It may look like she's rejecting his comfort, but that's not it, truly!

She's merely trying to put some distance between them so she doesn't cough the water that's been stuck in her lungs up onto his shoulder. ]

Agh— cr- crap—

[polarvoid]

[Between the two of them, it's amazing they're able to even stay upright from how hard they're crying. Basil cries a lot just as a general rule, but it's not usually like this. So full-bodied and all encompassing that it leaves you feeling sore and exhausted for days afterwards. It doesn't help that he's fighting to keep his fire contained at the same time, smoke occasionally exhaled with each gasping breath he takes, but fortunately not enough to cause them any problems. Maybe once or twice a spark tried to show itself in the back of his throat, but otherwise...

There is so much more that the music could compel him to talk about. His complicated relationship with Sunny. His fears about losing everything back home. His near constant worry that something is going to happen to his Grandma, leaving him truly alone. But before any of it can be tempted to rise to the surface, he feels Max shudder against him, coughing violently. He still doesn't know what happened to her out at Lake Fors, only able to guess at why she stumbled in all wet and injured. It could mean anything, in Ryslig, they just hadn't really had a proper chance to talk about it.

It isn't until Max abruptly pulls away and starts to cough up water that Basil feels truly alarmed, and...despite Max and her best efforts to push him away, he's already trying to get close again, reaching gently for her shoulders.]

Oh...oh no- Max! Max, are you okay!?

cw: hypnosis, drowning

[zoomingupthathill]

[ It's not the truth compulsion that stops her when she tries to say I'm fine but the continued coughing. Another round of water—oh, she'd really thought she got all that out earlier, and groans, shoulders heaving. ]

If... I try and say yeah... I think the freaking violin's gonna cave my freaking skull in. [ Grimacing and blinking out tears from this time the force of her body expelling what was left in her lungs, Max raises her head to look at Basil. ] I- I was trying to help. I wanted to make the music stop, but...

[ Voice scratchy, she starts to explain... And she shakes her head. ]

I'm- really, really glad you weren't out there. The song...changed. It...made people try and throw themselves into Lake Fors.

[polarvoid]

[What Max tells him...it chills Basil to the bone. And he makes a connection very quickly.]

I-...is that what...?

[It explains why she came stumbling into his room, soaked and waterlogged. She'd tried to go into Lake, and...she said she was trying to help, right?

Well, the how and why of it doesn't matter right now. Basil is overwhelmed- they both are, for different reasons- but none of that is going to mean anything if Max dies. He doesn't care that she's undead; he knows that doesn't mean anything here.]

Are...are you cold? M-maybe I can warm you up...

[He knows Max is cold as a baseline, and getting her too hot would be a detriment, but...]

cw: cannibalism

[zoomingupthathill]

What—? [ A small squint.

And then she straightens a little bit, wiping her mouth with her arm. ] Oh, like— Um, s-sure. I...actually am, kind of cold.

[ For a second it sounded like some kind of line—but like, sincere, because even after all this Max can't think of Basil as not sincere. At least not with his emotions. But then her brain catches up with her, and she gets it. ]

I think really I just- I need to get dry. And... [ She winces. ] Probably eat something.

[ Max wonders if she's going to start growing the moss again soon. Maybe over the injuries on her legs. ]

[polarvoid]

[Basil, especially right now when both of them are having such a godawful time, really does mean that in the most sincere way he possibly could. He's...been very careful of using his fire at all around Max, especially since he hurt her that first time. It's obvious even now that he's hesitant, because he still has moments where it can spiral out of control if he gets too upset or emotional...like right now, as a matter of fact.

But this is more important than how he feels about it. This is about Max, and thus it takes priority. That, and...honestly, they probably should both eat something, but fortunately the Palazzo is well stocked with their kind of fare that's easier to stomach than...well. You know.

For right now though, Basil sits back on his haunches again, bringing his hands between them. He's very, very careful not to touch Max as he holds them- palm up- and just...sits there, seemingly. And for a few minutes, nothing seems to happen.]

C-come on...please...

[But after some effort on Basil's part...the insides of his hands start to glow a hotter red, like a little warm heater placed between them.]

L...let me know if it gets too hot, okay? I'll stop.

[zoomingupthathill]

[ His hands like that remind Max of sitting on the Palazzo stairs, her Walkman between them. It's late in the day. The sun's out, but not bright enough that it hurts her eyes. She can just be, sharing part of herself, in silence.

This moment... They're nothing alike. But the focal point draws the comparison, as they're about the same distance apart, and in the minutes she's waiting, she's utterly silent. It's only the way her eyes flicker from Basil's hands to his face that indicates she's not just a still corpse. She's just about to say that it's okay—he doesn't have to, they can just find some fans—

And then his palms glow, like a space heater. Her eyes widen a little, as she can feel the water sunken into her skin start to dry. ]

H... Holy shit. [ Max sounds breathless again. Perhaps it's just because she sounds so soft and scratchy with her sickly, slightly feverish appearance. ] You've b-been...practicing, haven't you?

[ She's been terrified of getting too warm. Ever since getting literally burned and how badly her body reacted, she's been so scared. But, she doesn't feels scared right now. If she did, she couldn't hold it back, would be blabbing without a second thought. But she's not.

It makes her want to reach out and hold his hand. She won't, because that would be dangerous. But she wants to. ]

Thank you.

[polarvoid]

[Basil nods, though he does still seem a bit hesitant about it all. There is a fine line between "warm" and "literally on fire" when it comes to being a Gargoyle, he's found, and since he's impervious to flames...not just his own? He could get way too hot and never realize it. He's accidentally just set his skin ablaze before while trying to test this out (which is why any practicing has been done outdoors, not in). The only reason he's doing it here is because this is a special circumstance...he needs to be able to do this, for Max's sake.

And so, his hands glow with warm light between them, and it's very much like sitting beside a space heater during the winter. He is so, so very thankful that this seems to be doing her good, and not hurting her...if Basil weren't feeling so miserable, he'd probably smile.]

U-uh huh...a little.

["A little" is an understatement. He's just glad that, for once since he changed, he can utilize this form for something...good. Not just for himself, but for someone else.

MOSTLY for someone else.]

When...when you're warm, a-and not wet anymore...we need to look at your legs. Okay?

[He's...really worried. Max was bleeding- well, "bleeding"- a lot when she stumbled in here, and the fact she can't even stand is even worse.]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ It's maybe a little sad—if Max knew why he practiced so much, she'd be forced to verbally acknowledge that so few people have put in that kind of effort for her. She can count the number on both hands.

She shifts a little, gaze drawn to her useless legs. They aren't leaking sludge or moss anymore, but her wounds are still there, bite marks of varying sizes, holes ripped in her jeans and dead flesh removed. ]

Yeah- yeah, okay. [ A small shiver, not because of the flashes of cold that run through her body, but because she can feel her mouth opening again and— ] We can just- wrap them. There's no fixing them completely.

[ She grimaces in frustration and looks away, tongue heavy like lead. ]

Shit, don't- just forget about that.

cw: drowning ment

[polarvoid]

[Basil hurts for Max. He knows he has his own troubles with the changes, but Max...hers are on a different level. Being alive, but dead...he's reminded of falling into the lake. How cold he'd been. Water filling his lungs, his entire body paralyzed.

Her heart doesn't beat anymore. She can't get warm.

But he can. He can.

So he keeps his hands close, not so close he could burn her, but close enough to help her get warm. Warm, and dry. He doesn't comment on what she says about her legs, because he understands. He just tilts his head a bit, his ears drooping.]

...I know.

[Is what he eventually mutters, because...well. The truth spills from him freely, especially now that he isn't trying to fight it anymore. Why bother? He's...tired. Hollowed out, and empty. There's nothing more he could say, save for...

He blinks his eyes hard a few times, taking a slow breath.]

B-but...it would feel better.

cw: internalized ableism (re: chronic pain and disability) coming up

[zoomingupthathill]

[ He catches her completely by surprise. Shocked, honestly, and she looks him right in the eye. ]

What? But I—

[ And her brain catches up with her. Realizes, what he must have thought she meant, and drops her eyes. Her body feels very heavy now, as what she doesn't want to say slips out. ]

No you don't. [ It's very quiet. Very reluctant and very wet. ] You- you don't know. No one does.

[ Her arms wrap around her. She keeps trying to clamp her mouth shut, but it won't. It just won't. At least it has the decency to be quiet, even though she still sounds so...damaged. ]

I- I wasn't- talking about what happened today, Basil. It's not because I'm dead that they don't work right.

[ Max feels herself seize up. That's the first time she... ]

[polarvoid]

[You don't know. No one does.

Basil is quiet. He doesn't...understand what she means. For the first time since all of this started, he's left feeling legitimately confused, like they've misunderstood each other somehow. Or, no...Basil has misunderstood something Max has said.

And once again, Max doesn't...stop talking, even when Basil is pretty sure she would have if she could. It would make him feel guilty for it being forced from her, if they hadn't already spent so much time together on the floor doing exactly this for...what feels like it must be hours, at this point.

His expression shifts to one of concern. He can't help it, it's...worrying. His ears- previously perked- droop low now over his shoulders as he leans just a little closer, trying to look at Max's face. The light flickers oddly off it now due to the glow of his own hands, red mixed with blue. In this light...she somehow manages to look alive and dead at the same time.]

...Max. What's wrong?

[zoomingupthathill]

[ She's shivering. The glow, it's blue, like the attic where she died. It's red, like the wasteland where he killed her. And she can't— ]

Come on. You- you have t-to...have noticed. I g-get tired easily. I always need to- to lean. Haven't you seen how my- my legs shake? My arms?

[ Maybe she's hyperaware of it. Of how different it is now. ]

Before, I— [ She blinks, eyesight blurring. Her voice shakes. ] Something...happened to me.

[ A jolt of pain, and she starts to curl in on herself. ]

—I-I died! [ And just like that, the pain recedes. ] I was- k-killed, and the- the injuries- something...saved me, it- restarted my heart but the injuries, they didn't—

[ She feels sick. She squeezes her eyes shut. ]

They hurt. My l-legs, and- my arms, and m-my eyes, they- They n-never stopped- they always hurt!

cw: cannibalism mention, hallucination

[polarvoid]

[Max...isn't wrong. Basil has noticed, but obviously it isn't something he's going to bring up. He hadn't automatically assumed anything was seriously wrong, he just...thought it was due to her having to adapt to her new form. Having to walk with hooves would be hard for anyone, wouldn't it? Of course her legs shook...her body is undead now, with no pumping blood. She'd been living mostly on human-jerky for weeks at a time, of course she's been tired...

But Max doesn't just leave it to speculation anymore. She explains, and Basil feels his breath catch painfully in his throat. For a moment, his heartbeat shudders to a terrified stop.]

...y...you...?

[I died. I was killed.

Basil reflexively looks into the corner again, and...it's there, as ever. He only spares the presence a passing glance before he's looking back at Max again, his vision still consumed by the soft light between them, and now...the way she curls up small, as if trying to escape the reality of her existence.

...so that's why. Max, returning to life, only to be...

Basil swallows weakly around the lump in his throat. She's always hurting. All the time, those times she would stumble and fall, or struggle to keep going, she was...]

M...max...

[I'm so sorry, he wants to say, but saying so feels like it would be a slap in the face. But he isn't sure...what else to tell her. There's nothing that could make it better...nothing that will make her pain go away.

So instead? At least for the moment, he says nothing. But that doesn't mean he will do nothing.

He'll stop, if she pulls away. If she shows any sign of being afraid of it, or hurting. But...if Max allows it?

Basil will reach for and take her hands. Ever so gently, holding them within his own, which are still glowing softly with heat. It's probably quite warm for Max, but in a sort of...taking a hot shower warm kind of way. It's not burning her.]

cw: self-loathing, internalized ableism, panic attacks

[zoomingupthathill]

[ She's tried so, so hard to hide it. To ignore it. To not acknowledge it. But now, it's out there. That she's broken, and she won't go back together. Her outside matches her inside, you are sick, and the way Basil's voice shakes, how he trails off, she wonders if he's looking at her differently now. With pity, with dismay, because she's not the strong girl she's pretended to be. After all of this, it has to be clear—she's weak, so incredibly weak.

Her lungs feel like something's squeezing them as little gasps start to build in her. Breathing be damned, it's just uncomfortable. Her head's spinning, suddenly warm in ways that have nothing to do with Basil's warmth. Her eyes feel wet, is she really crying again, is this really what she's doing right now, is she really this pathetic—

Warmth.

Warmth, like a heated blanket. Like a cup of soup on a cold day. Like a spring California night, walking under the pier, right before it'd get too hot and stifling.

All centered around her hands, stiff and tense in her lap.

Max's head whips up, her eyes snap open, and she looks into Basil's eyes, tears falling from her own. She's still small, and she's still vulnerable. But what he looks back at her with...

It doesn't feel like pity.

Before, she'd pulled him into a hug for his own sake. Because she felt that Basil needed—deserved that sort of physical comfort. Now, it's for her own that she pitches forward to lean her forehead against his shoulder, her fingers uncurling from their almost claw-like position and slipping between his, so that he doesn't let go. Her broken antler swings from the sudden motion, dripping bloody velvet onto his floor, and her whole one probably presses into the side of his head.

But, for the first time since she was pulled from the water, Max has stopped shivering. ]

[polarvoid]

[The last thing Basil could ever do is pity her. He knows how she must be feeling, even if his own experiences come at it from a totally different angle. She feels...wrong. Broken. She shouldn't be here, yet for some reason, the universe has decided to keep her alive...and she isn't even really alive.

It's cruel. It feels like the Fog must have done it to her on purpose, just how Basil felt his fire must have been given to him as a curse, to ruin the plants he loves so dearly.

But right now? For once...Basil doesn't see it as a curse. If anything, he's glad that he has it, because if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to help Max. It...feels like the first time he's really been able to properly help anyone.

He felt like he was helping, back then. But it also felt like the only option. He hadn't been given a choice...

Basil keeps his hands loose so Max can slip her fingers between his claws before he curves them gently around her hands, keeping the warmth between both of them. He'd be hugging her if he had access to his arms, but the way she leans against him is contact enough, he figures. He tilts his head slightly, leaning his head against hers, heedless to the way her antler presses against his scales.]

...everything is going to be okay, Max.

[He eventually murmurs, his voice a whisper.]

T-this...isn't fair. But it doesn't make you...any less you. You're still Max.

[zoomingupthathill]

[ The warmth of Basil's hands makes her skin tingle. It's drawing the water from her soaked, dead flesh, but even more than that—there's an unquantifiable part of it, more than just acting as a glorified heat lamp. Perhaps it's because right now, her nerves feel shot, both physically and emotionally, as now... There's more she could say. But she feels as hollow as Basil, tired and empty of the secrets that have weighed her down for months.

That he'd hear it all. Everything, and still offer such a simple and kind gesture as holding her hands. It means more than any words could. It means more than Max could even try to understand or explain. ]

I n-never even...admitted it to- to myself. [ Quiet, almost whispered right into his collar between wet gasps. ] But...if I'm s- saying it now...it's gotta be true, right? I- I'm never...never getting better.

[ Her tears, impossibly warm for her but still cold for anyone with a heartbeat, soak into his clothes and scales as she gives up on swallowing down any of this. On instinct, her body tries to take in more air, because she's lightheaded from distress and that's what used to work. What results is Max's turn at a full-body sob, shaking and clutching Basil's hands tighter.

Right against him like this, Basil may feel Max's forehead, starkly and noticeably warmer than the rest of her from an inexplicable fever. ]

[polarvoid]

[That's really all Basil can offer her. An ear, a shoulder...it's the exact same thing Max has given him, too. It's all they have, trapped here, forced to speak the truth. At this point, it feels like Basil has told everything, yet...he knows there's plenty more awful things Max could uncover about him, if enough layers were peeled back.

But he isn't thinking about any of that now. He's too busy turning over her words, the idea that she's never going to get better. She will never be well again, permanently damaged.

Broken.

And Basil...he can't lie to her. It's the one time he wishes he could.

Basil's jaws tremble as he fights to come up with something to say, but he just can't. He's left silent as Max sobs into his shoulder, holding her hands and not minding how tightly she grips them in return. Even if she holds them until they turn numb, he won't ask her to let go. It's...scary, how cold, yet warm she can be all at the same time.]

I-...I d-don't know.

[He finally whispers, wishing he could conjure up a half-truth that was better than something so weak and uncertain. But he doesn't know, how could he? Ryslig...the Fog, whatever, It could have fixed Max, but it didn't. Her new monster body could have been stronger, and completely whole again...but it didn't.

He hates it. He hates it for her.]

It...it's not fair.

cw: nonconsensual surgery/medical horror mentions

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Max often thinks back to her very first week here—well, Felfri. She remembers laying out on a cot with an unfamiliar boy whose mansion of a house she would come to live with. She remembers her ruined arm re-stitching itself together. She remembers the moment he found the deeper damage, remembers how she shook her head in fear.

That there was a chance to beg for them to be healed, but the idea of someone else poking around inside her was too terrifying to comprehend. Not after Vecna invading her mind. Not after the scientists of E+L carving her open.

It's stupid, how horrible things happening to her kept Max from seizing opportunities. What if it didn't work? But what if it did?

Those sorts of thoughts swim around her head. It's dizzying. Or...maybe that's just the weird way she's reacting to what undead do instead of drown.

Still, Basil centers her. Without her music to, it's all she has. How his support is quite literally keeping her body upright, as she can't put the weight on her knees. How the warmth from his hands radiates outward, like it's enveloping them in a gentle aura. The sobs tearing through her disrupt it a little—but they also keep her from spilling anything else from her loose lips, and at the moment, she'll take it. It's not fair, it's not, but there's nothing she can do about it.

For a long while, that's all there is. Until either her crying or his heat or some combination of the two expel all the water from her. Even her hair's airdried, and her grip on Basil's hands has weakened. If she were thinking about it, she would've shifted to a more comfortable position. But now somehow her thighs tingle with pins and needles, as do her arms. Like the water previously in her lungs, it's a reason to pull away.

But, this time she doesn't. ]

'm sorry. [ With a scratchy, hoarse voice. ] Please...don't tell, okay?

[ It already hurts that it feels like she's had her insides shown to the world, with March. It already hurts that none of this was anywhere near voluntary. That now, she's been reduced to pleading like a child. ]

cw: death/panic attack mention

[polarvoid]

[Basil is brought back to his conversation with Katurian in his apartment. When Katurian admitted to Basil that he'd killed his own parents. When Katurian also admitted that he knew Basil was involved in a murder of some kind...and that he had been tasked with covering it up.

Please don't tell.

It had become another secret. Another pair of secrets to keep. And now...Basil feels the weight of yet another, only this time...he can remember everything. He isn't just being told after the fact, he told Max everything himself. She knows it all, down to the most minute detail.

Basil thinks that he should be uncomfortable like this too, sitting on the hard floor in the same position for so long. But he's unfortunately used to this, having spent many a evening in the fetal position in his bedroom, trying to work himself down from a panic attack. It has all happened before, and it will happen again.

And since Max doesn't pull away, Basil won't either. He'll just shift, resting his head now on her shoulder, his longer snout pressing against the side of her neck.]

I promise...I won't tell anyone.

[And he means it.]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ She sucks in an unnecessary breath, for two reasons.

For one, she's relived that he's promised. For another, his snout tickles a little. ]

Thank you...for being here.

[ It feels bad to say, considering the nature of here. But it's the truth of what she feels. She needed to see him, because she didn't want to be alone...and here, Basil feels like one of the most important people to her.

Here, in the blue glow, it feels like...before the attic. Sitting with Lucas, only paper and markers to communicate, and a painfully sincere confession.

I'm glad you're here.

She'll examine that later. Probably. ]

[polarvoid]

[No, Basil...feels the same way. His relationship with Ryslig as a whole is, of course, more complicated. He thinks he might have died back home, but at the same time, even if he hadn't...being there is worse than being here, in a world so far removed from the hell of reality, with people who seem to love and care for him as he is, regardless of...everything. They don't know of course, not in the same way Max now does, but...

There's something to it. It's sad, he knows, but...he isn't sure he has anything else, anymore.]

...you too.

[Basil murmurs back, his own voice hoarse from crying, his body feeling heavy and tired.]

M'...glad it was you, who came. I...I w-wouldn't have wanted to talk to anyone else.

[He wouldn't...have wanted to tell that to anyone else. Granted, he wished he didn't have to period, but...]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ There's a level they can't relate on—because despite everything, Max wants to go home. She wants to go back. She has people waiting for her, and she wants to fight the universe to return.

But...while she's here... She can't keep isolating herself. She's been doing it so much, even from the ones she knows from home. This, right here, even though she can feel her body ache and groan, her head floaty and heavy at the same time, her legs like swiss cheese—

Still. This feels right. Like what she's been missing. It's like breaking out of Vecna's vision all over again, into the arms of those who love her.

If she had the strength, she would squeeze his hands again. ]

I- needed to see you. [ That's what she'd said at the start.

It was true. It was very, very true. ]

But I- I think now, um... We need to...

[ Max doesn't want to move. She doesn't want to do anything but feel this. But. He'd said it already, and the warmth Basil's generated has her almost completely dry.

Her legs need wrapping. At least to keep what's inside them inside and not all over his floor. ]

[polarvoid]

[He knows. He doesn't want to move either, but...he's starting to worry about Max. It sounds like she coughed up all the water that was in her, and his heat managed to dry her the rest of the way, but he's done nothing for her injuries. He doesn't care if her body heals different because she's undead, or whatever. That doesn't mean he won't do what he can to help.

So Basil nods, slowly trying to move so he can get his legs out from underneath himself. He hisses softly, his padded feet and clawed toes tingling as the circulation rushes back to them. He wishes he had a first-aid kit in his room...that's something he's going to have to remember to keep, next time.]

If I help you, do you think you can stand?

[If not, that's okay. As much as he will hate going into the dark hallway by himself, with its dark corners and staircase around the bend, he will retrieve what he needs to get her legs wrapped without Max having to move.

Just for good measure, Basil checks the corner one last time, and Max may notice him looking.

But this time, Something isn't there. He breathes an audible sigh of relief.]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Basil moves, and Basil is all that's really holding Max up, so it's natural she sort of moves too. Her thighs press a little more into the floor and she winces. She doesn't think it's fair that she feels the undead equivalent of pins and needles, with no need for her blood to flow. It's a little different, but more than anything she just feels stiff.

Only now does she start to let go of his hands, but it's so she can keep her grip on Basil's arm, instead; easier to stay upright that way.

With an embarrassed little frown, she shakes her head, just as she catches Basil's line of sight, and his relieved sigh.

Despite it all—she's glad. Because it seems like the memory of what's tormenting him has decided to leave for the time being. ]

No. I...think it's more likely I'd fall again.