Is there anyone out there, please! Are... are you real?
Please... I... I don't wanna be down here anymore, I...
I just wanna live.
#TRANSMISSION RECEIVED - Anon asks
#BLOODY ECHOES - Other Simon blogs
#THROUGH THE VOID - MarkCU blogs
#FULL OF GRACE - PHM Blogs
#IT SPEAKS - Eel/Blood Ocean blogs
#LIGHTBRINGER - @/l1l-l1ght
(vv Mod talk please read!!!!! vv)
Yeah okay so I succumbed to the fixation and added to the mass amount of Simon blogs, so sue me...
CONTEXT:
This blog is currently set after Simon is cut off from the tow ship, yeeted into the tunnels, and sees the light, but before Ava contacts him again. Simon's been driving for what feels like weeks but might have just been minutes, looking for a way out of the tunnels while the SM-13 slowly gets more bloody and fleshy around him, but he can't get out, and the eel's still trailing him, occasionally taunting him over the radio. But! time may progress later if I feel like it! I'm gonna stick as close to canon as possible but of course I'll be going off the rails with worldbuilding and stuff since ofc we don't get much info on that in the movie or the game.
BOUNDARIES:
Mod is an adult and has very little boundaries and if I'm uncomfortable with something I will simply not reply, so don't be afraid to go wild, feel free to shake Simon around like a maraca or magic!anon him or flirt with him or just give him little smooches on the head, but I can't guarantee he'll react well to any of it! All Simon posts will be as close to my interpretation of his character as I can get, so I'll say now that Simon's views don't reflect my own! He's grumpy and tired and irradiated and has been raised as a murderer in a death cult, so if you do give him lil smooches he may threaten to kill you but I personally will find it hilarious lol.
TRIGGER WARNINGS:
if you are sensitive to religious discussions, religious abuse/zealotry, discussions of violence/gore/body horror, discussions of insanity/psychosis/hallucinations, or anything close, BEWARE as you will almost certainly encounter these on this blog!
I'll update this post as time goes on so watch this space lol
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Something knocks on the sub. It's quiet at first, almost tentative, but then it gets a little louder.
"Is someone in there?" a wavering voice calls from outside. It crackles through the speakers at the same time as it carries through the blood, somehow. "I can see a skeleton, but are you alive?"
[Simon startles, woken from whatever half-asleep, half-zoned out doze he'd slipped into, almost falling sideways with the force of his flinch from where he sits on the floor of the sub, leaned against the wall. For a moment, he can hear the fading strains of a Brother's voice - 'again, Butcher? Look at you, getting jumpy' - before it's drowned out by the one outside, and he takes a shuddering breath, burying his face in his bloodstained hands.]
Please... I'm so tired, please j-just- just stop fucking with me. You're not real!
[He sobs, strained, and before, it would have physically pained him to beg like that, but he's telling the truth. He's tired.]
"No, no, no. I am real. I must be."
The thing sounds a little frantic. The proximity sensors go off sequentially as it circles the sub once, twice. It must be relatively small, considering how little turbulence it creates.
"I am sorry for scaring you. Are you- You sound so hurt. Can I help?"
[Simon looks up to track the movement of the creature with the sensors, and he frowns slightly, seeing how much smaller it must be, compared to the Eel.]
Wh- What do you want?
[He mutters, his voice cracking, and his hands come down to wrap around himself like he's preparing for the walls of the sub to cave in any moment, his whole body tense and curled up in a ball smaller than a man of his size should be able to achieve.]
You c-can't help me. No-one- I can't- p-please, just- please. I can't do this anymore.
It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible.
"I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore."
It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh.
"I have hurt you. I should leave."
[He flinches again at the noise so close to his head, scrambling back from the wall with a sharp breath.]
Y-You don't- what?
[He mutters, shaking his head slightly, despite the way it makes the whole room spin. He'd love nothing more than for the Eel to leave him alone, but then the voice sounds almost contrite, and suddenly there's this gut-wrenching fear that feels like someone grabbed his intestines and yanked hard. The Eel would never offer to leave him alone, when it found him. It would simply taunt and taunt until he found the energy to run, or until his mind slipped away from him, and when he came back, it would be gone.]
"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again."
Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking.
"I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."
[Simon sounds genuinely confused, the concussion and the exhaustion making his thoughts slow and sluggish. He gets a little of it, though, and his shoulders visibly slump when it says it's not with the Eel.]
I-If you're not... Her, then... what the fuck are you? H-How are you- w-why are you down here? Why... why t-talk to me?
"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?"
It pauses to collect its thoughts.
"I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."
[He murmurs, his voice hoarse, but he falls silent again, letting the silence stretch for a while after it finishes.]
You were... fuuuuck.
[Simon runs his hands down his face, shuddering slightly as his palms catch on the ridge across his nose that he knows wasn't there before but that he's choosing not to think about, for his own sanity. He still sounds painfully confused.]
I... b-but you're... alive? You're n-not part of...? Fuckin'- th-this is so... shit. I-I don't...
"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it."
It sighs again.
"What about you? How did you come here?"
[The words almost fall out of his mouth in reply, immediate, instinctive, like it's the most important part he can think of.]
I... I didn't w-want to be here, I-I didn't-
It wasn't supposed to happen. But they- they don't care about th-that.
...They s-said it was just- just some fucking pictures, and then I w-was free. And then it was the s-sample, too, and then I'd b-be free. A-And- and th-then they fucking cut me off, and I- I was never gonna- they, they sent me down h-here and they knew I would d-die and- and they never even asked me if I did it! I d-didn't, I didn't want this, it w-wasn't supposed to...
[His words are disjointed, his tone rapidly oscillating between quiet and strained like he's on the verge of tears and loudly, blisteringly angry. He doesn't sound very stable, but he's desperate, desperate for something to just listen when he says he didn't mean to.]
"I understand."
The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows.
"I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."
[He murmurs, quiet again and still teary, but there's something else in his voice too, almost awed. His left hand slowly comes up to bring the pendant still wrapped tightly around his wrist into the palm of his right, and the thumbs the cracked glass with infinite gentleness, at odds with his coarseness.]
Th-They- y-yeah, the, the convict p-program, thing... I knew there w-were others, b-but... you really...?
It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action.
"Yes."
Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom?
Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera.
The cycle must end.
"I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."
[He's sounded on the edge of it this whole time, but Simon does sob at that, a cracked, choked-down little noise that makes his shoulders shake. He's so tired of having freedom dangled over his head, like a dog being taunted with a bone just out of reach.]
I c-can't- you can't, it won't, it n-never- she won't let me leave, please, s-stop fucking w-with me, god fucking-
[Simon growls, then, slamming his fist down on the iron floor, making the blood that coats it splash up his arm. His head tilts almost lazily back, and he stares at the blurry scrawls on the wall above him, nonsensical scribbled words and circles upon circles of tunnels in impossible formations - his map, if it can even be considered that.]
I d-don't wanna die, b-but this is worse. I-I can't... I can't take any more, please, Father, I'm tired...
[He whispers, mostly to himself, disregarding the creature outside, if it really is a creature and not just the Eel, still, taunting him endlessly with false hopes.]
Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks.
It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side.
Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair.
"Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.
[If he had any more of his pride left, Simon would deny the help he let out in that moment, flinching away and trying to scramble to his feet, only for the room to tilt sickeningly in his vision and send him crashing to the floor again. His eyes are wide and terrified, and he holds up a blood-soaked hand in a pathetic attempt to defend himself, watching the creature in blank shock.]
Wh-What- I- p-please-
[He says, weakly, like it'll do anything. His ears ring from the sudden movements, his head spinning, and he fancies that he can almost hear a Brother's mocking laugh on the edges of his awareness, a sound that makes him sick to his stomach.]
"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm."
The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".
[Simon's breathing is harsh and quick, rattling in his chest, but as he watches the creature struggle, it slows somewhat, the shock of seeing something so terrifying somewhat ruined by its inability to stay upright. He slowly lowers his hand, shifting to sit up properly, then forward onto his knees, and he scans over the creature warily, like he's expecting a trick.]
I-I- are- uh. Are you...
[He starts, but he can't quite force the word 'okay' out of his mouth, swallowing thickly instead, and balling his hands into fists so he doesn't have to see them tremble.]
"Mhm."
More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult.
"Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"
[It's more than a little horrifying, this bloodied, mutated, eel-like creature, but Simon didn't become the Butcher by panicking at every scary thing he saw, and at least the thing's not attacking. So he steels himself, taking a sharp breath and drawing himself upright as much as he can when he's still stuck on his knees for fear of keeling over, and he slowly nods. Just the breath makes his cracked ribs burn, and he can taste iron in his mouth, but he's doing his best, at least.]
Fuckin'- do I l-look okay?
[He growls, gesturing at the blood-slick walls of the sub and everything that entails, and that's not what he meant to say at all, but instinct has kicked in and made him prickly. It's hard to seem truly intimidating, though, when his anger is a very obvious thin veil over a much deeper tone of exhaustion, and he sways slightly with every breath, the room tilting around him.]
It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others.
"You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."
[Simon stares blankly at the creature, like he's not convinced he's not just hallucinating still, and the odd urge to laugh bubbles up in him. His breath hitches, but the only noise that comes out is a wet crackle from his lungs, and he manages to slowly shake his head, slumping down until his ass is against his heels and he's two seconds from falling forward onto his hands.]
Please.
[He says quietly, his head hanging low as though in supplication, although truthfully he's just too tired to keep it up. Again, it's not what he meant to say - he meant to snap, to remind the creature of how long he's been down here, of the tunnels that twist impossibly, of the Eel that bars his way and sends him further down - but instead he just sobs. He's so tired. If the creature wants to waste its time on the dying Butcher, he'll let it - never have it be said that Simon isn't a selfish man.]
"Yes, yes! Free the human!"
Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down.
"Why did I think I would still be able to read."
[Simon slides back onto his butt, curling back up into that same position from before, thighs held to his chest by his arms, shoulders hunched, his chin resting atop his knees, and he watches the creature somewhat distantly. The meagre overhead light glints off of his mismatched pupils and makes him wince, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the thing that's trying to free him. Trying being the important word, there, because it stumbles at the first hurdle, and Simon scrubs at his face with a hand for a second before he speaks up.]
Y'don't need that shit. I didn't read it. It's just... lever's go, handle's turn.
"Oh."
It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.
[If he's being honest with himself, Simon would much rather go back to that in-between place in his head, where nothing really feels real and he can pretend that he doesn't care about dying, but instead he finds himself annoyingly aware, still watching the creature, both admiring how quickly it picked up the controls and making disparaging mental comparisons to his own piloting ability.]
C-Can you... can you see...?
[He asks suddenly, another string of words that tumble out of his mouth against his will.]
"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything."
It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.
[Simon grunts an acknowledgement as he processes that answer, looking grimly thoughtful for a long moment before the creature trills and it makes him jump, his heartbeat and breathing spiking for a second before they settle.]
The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself.
"We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."
[He frowns, nodding slowly, his shoulders slumping a little as the sounds quiet down again. Something about its explanation sticks in his head, though, and it takes him a long second to work it out, his thoughts still sticky and difficult. His breath hitches when he realises it, though, and his head snaps up to stare fearfully at the sub wall, like he can hear something the creature can't.]
"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing."
Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.
I've... only ever seen one at a time, but it... she speaks with all the v-voices... there c-could be more.
[He says, almost absently, still practically burning a hole through the sub wall with his wide-eyed gaze. A whisper sounds on the edge of his hearing, and real or imagined, he flinches, his heartrate skyrocketing again for a minute until it slows again.]
They all become one...
[His voice drops to a mumble, and oops - he zoned out again for a second, barely aware that he even said anything at all, snapping his attention back to the creature to stay aware instead of getting lost in the slimy, rusty walls of the SM-13. He can't see it shake from here, but he's always been good at reading body language, a necessity for a man like him, and he can tell its on edge, although he wouldn't have the first clue what to do about it. He stays quiet, instead, watching the silent proximity sensors for any flickering signs of an Eel.]
That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting.
When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.
[Simon doesn't look overly comforted or reassured, but it doesn't scare him too much, at least - he's still wary, but he also just looks confused.]
U-Uh. What?
[The words slip out of him on instinct, and it's only after he's said them that he realises he actually doesn't want to know why the creature is disconcertingly displaying its full rows of teeth at him, and that's when his breath catches again.]
"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting."
Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered.
"My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..."
It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.
You forget that you look like a fish and a person got stuck in a meat grinder?
[Simon grumbles, something uneasy flashing behind his eyes at the idea that the creature cares for his comfort, until he pales with panic, his own words slow to register to his logical brain.]
I-I mea- I'm s-sorry, I didn't- that's not what I- I'm sorry- please-
[He starts up a stammered apology almost against his will, his heart kicking back up and his eyes going wide, only for the creature's reaction to make him freeze. He hears that whisper again, barely-there, too distant or too unreal to decipher the words, and he chokes on his next breath, falling silent as the sudden movement of the sub makes him fall forward and stay there, on his hands and knees in the thin layer of blood that coats the sub floor.]
The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself.
"E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.
[He flinches at the word, but at least it's a movement, and it spurs him into motion, scrambling away from the direction the creature was looking before, shoving himself backwards until his back hits the control console beside where the creature sits, forcing a shaky gasp out of him as the hard metal makes contact with his bruises.]
P-Please-
[Simon hisses, and he's not even sure what he's asking for, his eyes hazy and distant as more whispers echo in his ears, laughter and taunting, incomprehensible words.]
The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us."
Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။."
Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.
[Simon doesn't seem to even register the creature's noises, but he makes a choked noise as the proximity sensors start to ping, tensing and bringing an arm up to grab the edge of the console like he's bracing for impact even as the rest of him hunches, as though just pulling his limbs in closer will help the sub fit. His breath shudders harshly in his chest, and his shoulders shake, all at once feeling claustrophobic as the sides of the sub nearly scrape the walls of the tunnel, not that he should really be able to know that, his mind blurry and slow as it is.]
L-Leave me alone, f-fuck-
[He mumbles weakly to no-one, to the air that's thick with his own panic, to the blood that stains his hands and the corpses that turn their glassy eyes on him even though he's alone in the sub. Or, maybe not alone, but he's not yet convinced that the creature isn't a stress-induced hallucination either.]
"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬."
It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong.
"You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."
[He jerks away from the touch, his head tossing wildly as just the small tap feels like a brand burning into his skin, and yep, he didn't process any of those words. He can barely hear anything anyway, under the rushing of blood in his ears and the screaming, fuck, why are they screaming? Don't they know it's no use? Don't they know the blood is inevitable, all-consuming, endless?]
Please...
[He whispers, hoarse, even though he knows it's fruitless. She's here. He was a fool to think he could run.]
The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun.
"Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now.
It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls.
It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.
[Simon knows that word too well, registers it even as the rest of his mind shies away from the reality around him, and for a moment his eyes clear and he watches the creature go, pained and angry and so, so tired, before the chaos of the voices and the pain and the claustrophobia and the please, please, I want to live, all crowd back in and send him reeling back into that place where nothing is real and all he can do is wait for the end, his hand clenched around the pendant hanging from his wrist, stolen piety that he still clings to like it will save him.]
P-Please, don't-
[He mutters, and he doesn't know if he's begging for his own life or for the creature's, but either way, it's probably useless.]
The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside.
It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.
[Simon screws his eyes shut and lets his mind unfocus as the voices scream at him, spitting epithets he doesn't understand, only the mocking tone really getting through to him, as it always does. He half-expects to hear his Brother's voice again, but then it fades, and time skips like a broken record, stuttering and glitching until the ocean outside is still and Simon blinks, completely unaware of how much time has passed. He cranes his neck up to look at the console, tilting his head to the side slightly as his vacant gaze traces the phantom outline of a being there, and his breath hitches as the likelihood of it being another trick swamps him. He'd barely let himself hope at all, a tiny spark of nothing, and yet it still hurts to have it ripped away again.]
Fuck.
[He mutters, his voice hoarse and wet as he buries his face in bloodied hands and tries to steady his breathing, each ragged draw of air making his cracked ribs scream.]
More blood drips down onto the floor, right beside him. It starts out as a small trickle, then hurries into a steady stream. Suddenly, it stops entirely, and the puddle congeals and shapes itself into something humanoid. It takes longer for the features to define themselves, as though the liquid itself is sluggish, but eventually the creature is there, sitting next to him, its tail curled around its own legs.
"I lived!" it chirps. "The Eel is away. Still alive, but not here. I can. Keep going."
Its voice is a little too cheerful, wavering and stretched thin to conceal the hurt underneath.
[Simon twitches away from the pouring blood, eyes still screwed shut beneath his hands, his nails digging into the skin of his forehead as the dripping sound starts to grate on the last of his frayed nerves, and when the creature speaks, he goes rigid, a choked sob forcing it's way out of his throat.]
I c-can't, please, please-
[He mumbles, lost all over again, and the words that slip out of mouth don't even feel his own anymore. He's so tired of being fucked with, over and over again, stuck in a loop of freedom and damnation until his brain melts. He coughs, hacking and wet, and he's forced to pull his hands away from his face to avoid splashing the blood that comes up back onto his chin. He spits it onto the ground instead, and when he looks over at the creature, his eyes are back to that dull, distant emptiness.]
Please, I just w-want it t-to be over... stop it, p-please...
Whatever optimism it had mustered fades in a moment. It tries to scan the human's body again, but the sickness seeping into their organs is too painful to witness. Thin, translucent blood- its closest approximation to tears- wells up at the corners of its eyes. Whether out of weakness or instinct, it finds itself leaning forward and pulling the human into a clumsy hug.
"I know, human," it mumbles. "I know."
[Everything stops for Simon in that moment, right down to his breathing, a wet hitch as arms wrap around him and fuck, how long has it been since someone's touched him properly at all, let alone something so soft as a hug?]
Wh-What...
[He mumbles, his mouth moving on instinct, but he's already decided he won't question it. Years and years of fight-or-flight reactions every time someone so much as brushed against him in a corridor, and yet it's here, in the most stressful situation of his life, that the touch breaks him. His whole body is rigid and tense, but he lets his head drop, resting his forehead on the creature's shoulder as a broken, sob-like noise pushes out of his throat and he shudders. If this is what his brain has chosen to give him while he dies, then so be it. It's better than the other hallucinations.]
Mayday is sobbing too, it realizes. The sound is raspy, stuttering, not quite right, but it's unmistakable. Its tail wraps around the human's body like it can hide them from death itself. Like maybe, just maybe, it can be allowed to save this one. Hasn't it been good enough for that? Isn't it good enough?
Reluctantly, it pulls away, wiping furiously at all six of its eyes.
"I am sorry," it croaks. "I am supposed to be st- strong, not crying."
(length cut sorry because it's hard to scroll lol)
[Simon doesn't protest at the length of the hug, and doesn't protest when the creature pulls back, either, but he does look a little bereft, wrapping his arms around himself in lieu of the other's.]
No p-point.
[He mumbles, hoarse, at least looking a little more aware, even if he's still staring through Mayday instead of at it. If he's letting the hallucination hug him, he might as well talk to it, too.]
No-one t'see y-you 'cept me. An' I- I'm...
[He trails off, letting the creature fill in the blanks. He knows he's a mess. He doesn't care. He's waiting to die - CO2 poisoning doesn't care what he looks like, it'll kill him all the same.]
*You hear an odd sound above you, and near the ceiling of the Iron Lung something in the corner of your vision starts to almost wobble, or warp. And then, from this quivering seam, bursts some rectangular hole, something that can only be described as a portal. Light torrents through it, and there is a rush of cool, fresh air.*
*And then, something falls through this hole, and it closes sharply behind them, taking the light and the air with it. You can tell that this is a person, not very tall. They hit the floor of the submarine hard.*
Ow— OH FUCK WHY IS THE FLOOR SLIMY? EW EW EW WHERE AM I—?
*Your radio cracks with static as the stranger scrambles to sit up, and look around them. You can see now that they aren’t very old, maybe sixteen. They wear glasses and have a small, glowing device in their hand.*
Oh yeah, I got my coordinates way off…
*In the middle of their sentence, they see you.*
Oh hi, sir… sorry about this….
Ffffuck-!
[Simon scrambles away the second he notices the air warping, a hoarse whimper ripping itself from his throat, and he stares with wide, dull eyes at the apparition - because it must be, a hallucination, another false hope dangled in his face by the Eel, or a CO2-and-radiation-poisoning-induced figment of his imagination. Either way, it's not worth acknowledging, and he simply turns away from it, curling back up into a ball against the side of the sub and digging his nails into the bubbling, itchy skin on the side of his throat, trying desperately to return to that hazy state where it doesn't hurt so much and he can pretend he's not just sitting in a metal coffin waiting to die.]
[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]
[Simon flinches, his head whipping around to stare at the... hallucination? But hallucinations can't touch - as she brushes against him, smacking Lilac's hand away on instinct and slapping his palm against his neck instead of his nails, shielding the wound. His gaze is blank, without recognition, and it's clear he wasn't really listening to any of her words, his breathing sharp and quick as he just stares and stares, eyes flicking over Lilac like a prey animal assessing a threat. A far cry from the man they used to call Butcher, something hisses in his ear, and he jolts away from that direction, too, a pathetic creature jumping at shadows and empty air.]
*Lilac moves back to give you some space, sitting on her knees and unsure what to do. She can’t just leave you here, would that be fucked up or what, but she’s clearly going to have to earn your trust.*
*Upon glancing around herself, Lilac realizes that she can’t see much of anything. Your huddled form, and her hands, and some nondescript shadows that all swim together in the darkness. And if she can’t see, then you probably can’t, either.*
I’m gonna take out my flashlight, okay? It’s really dark.
*You hear rustling, and in a few moments, a light sprouts from the back of a device in Lilac’s hand. You can see Lilac better now, and if you were to encounter her in a normal situation, she would not be threatening at all. There is concern in her eyes, but she makes no further movement towards you.*
*She glances down at the ground, and in the better light can see the answer to her question of why the ground is slimy.*
[Simon doesn't look any better in the light, streaked with blood, his forearms and neck raw like the skin is boiling from underneath, a bloody line ripped across his face, mismatched pupils from the concussion, his hair matted with sweat and more blood, and altogether a mess of a man, enough that he barely looks human anymore. He still stares absently, but at the very least the question seems to get through to him, and his dull eyes follow Lilac's eyeline, staring down at the thin layer of red on the sub floor.]
Y-Yes.
[He croaks, his voice raw and hoarse, like he's been crying or screaming or both. It's hard to see under the blood, but his eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, so both is possible. He sounds distant, like he's not really aware of the words that leave his mouth, just entertaining the phantom of his own mind.]
*You hear an odd sound above you, and near the ceiling of the Iron Lung something in the corner of your vision starts to almost wobble, or warp. And then, from this quivering seam, bursts some rectangular hole, something that can only be described as a portal. Light torrents through it, and there is a rush of cool, fresh air.*
*And then, something falls through this hole, and it closes sharply behind them, taking the light and the air with it. You can tell that this is a person, not very tall. They hit the floor of the submarine hard.*
Ow— OH FUCK WHY IS THE FLOOR SLIMY? EW EW EW WHERE AM I—?
*Your radio cracks with static as the stranger scrambles to sit up, and look around them. You can see now that they aren’t very old, maybe sixteen. They wear glasses and have a small, glowing device in their hand.*
Oh yeah, I got my coordinates way off…
*In the middle of their sentence, they see you.*
Oh hi, sir… sorry about this….
Ffffuck-!
[Simon scrambles away the second he notices the air warping, a hoarse whimper ripping itself from his throat, and he stares with wide, dull eyes at the apparition - because it must be, a hallucination, another false hope dangled in his face by the Eel, or a CO2-and-radiation-poisoning-induced figment of his imagination. Either way, it's not worth acknowledging, and he simply turns away from it, curling back up into a ball against the side of the sub and digging his nails into the bubbling, itchy skin on the side of his throat, trying desperately to return to that hazy state where it doesn't hurt so much and he can pretend he's not just sitting in a metal coffin waiting to die.]
[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]
[Simon flinches, his head whipping around to stare at the... hallucination? But hallucinations can't touch - as she brushes against him, smacking Lilac's hand away on instinct and slapping his palm against his neck instead of his nails, shielding the wound. His gaze is blank, without recognition, and it's clear he wasn't really listening to any of her words, his breathing sharp and quick as he just stares and stares, eyes flicking over Lilac like a prey animal assessing a threat. A far cry from the man they used to call Butcher, something hisses in his ear, and he jolts away from that direction, too, a pathetic creature jumping at shadows and empty air.]
*Lilac moves back to give you some space, sitting on her knees and unsure what to do. She can’t just leave you here, would that be fucked up or what, but she’s clearly going to have to earn your trust.*
*Upon glancing around herself, Lilac realizes that she can’t see much of anything. Your huddled form, and her hands, and some nondescript shadows that all swim together in the darkness. And if she can’t see, then you probably can’t, either.*
I’m gonna take out my flashlight, okay? It’s really dark.
*You hear rustling, and in a few moments, a light sprouts from the back of a device in Lilac’s hand. You can see Lilac better now, and if you were to encounter her in a normal situation, she would not be threatening at all. There is concern in her eyes, but she makes no further movement towards you.*
*She glances down at the ground, and in the better light can see the answer to her question of why the ground is slimy.*
[Simon doesn't look any better in the light, streaked with blood, his forearms and neck raw like the skin is boiling from underneath, a bloody line ripped across his face, mismatched pupils from the concussion, his hair matted with sweat and more blood, and altogether a mess of a man, enough that he barely looks human anymore. He still stares absently, but at the very least the question seems to get through to him, and his dull eyes follow Lilac's eyeline, staring down at the thin layer of red on the sub floor.]
Y-Yes.
[He croaks, his voice raw and hoarse, like he's been crying or screaming or both. It's hard to see under the blood, but his eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, so both is possible. He sounds distant, like he's not really aware of the words that leave his mouth, just entertaining the phantom of his own mind.]
*You hear an odd sound above you, and near the ceiling of the Iron Lung something in the corner of your vision starts to almost wobble, or warp. And then, from this quivering seam, bursts some rectangular hole, something that can only be described as a portal. Light torrents through it, and there is a rush of cool, fresh air.*
*And then, something falls through this hole, and it closes sharply behind them, taking the light and the air with it. You can tell that this is a person, not very tall. They hit the floor of the submarine hard.*
Ow— OH FUCK WHY IS THE FLOOR SLIMY? EW EW EW WHERE AM I—?
*Your radio cracks with static as the stranger scrambles to sit up, and look around them. You can see now that they aren’t very old, maybe sixteen. They wear glasses and have a small, glowing device in their hand.*
Oh yeah, I got my coordinates way off…
*In the middle of their sentence, they see you.*
Oh hi, sir… sorry about this….
Ffffuck-!
[Simon scrambles away the second he notices the air warping, a hoarse whimper ripping itself from his throat, and he stares with wide, dull eyes at the apparition - because it must be, a hallucination, another false hope dangled in his face by the Eel, or a CO2-and-radiation-poisoning-induced figment of his imagination. Either way, it's not worth acknowledging, and he simply turns away from it, curling back up into a ball against the side of the sub and digging his nails into the bubbling, itchy skin on the side of his throat, trying desperately to return to that hazy state where it doesn't hurt so much and he can pretend he's not just sitting in a metal coffin waiting to die.]
[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]
[Simon flinches, his head whipping around to stare at the... hallucination? But hallucinations can't touch - as she brushes against him, smacking Lilac's hand away on instinct and slapping his palm against his neck instead of his nails, shielding the wound. His gaze is blank, without recognition, and it's clear he wasn't really listening to any of her words, his breathing sharp and quick as he just stares and stares, eyes flicking over Lilac like a prey animal assessing a threat. A far cry from the man they used to call Butcher, something hisses in his ear, and he jolts away from that direction, too, a pathetic creature jumping at shadows and empty air.]
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Or is immediately freaked out by the sudden transformation of Simon’s arms. It passes him some bandages. Other than that it has no idea how to help.
Please don’t die please don’t die-
- @l1l-l1ght
[Simon takes the bandages, but instead of just wrapping his arms like a normal person, he uses the fabric to mop up the pus-plasma-blood mixture that's slowly drying on his face - he's used to the blood by now, but something about the sour smell of that substance so close to his nose is more sickening than the constant stench of iron, and he wants it off. He's not sure what to actually do about Or's upset though, especially since he can still feel his own panic roiling underneath a thick barrier of hazy dullness, his hands still shaking furiously and his breath harsh in his chest.]
Not fuckin' going anywhere yet, chill out.
[He mutters awkwardly, fiddling with the now-soiled bandages in his grip, his voice low and hoarser still, now, from the alcohol.]
Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.
[Simon says flatly after a moment, not angrily, just even and tired. He can feel the thing's gaze on him like a brand, and it burns into his irritated, bloody skin, making him feel weirdly itchy.]
[The eye doesn't exactly escape his notice, but Simon doesn't bother to question it, numb to the weirdness. He watches them flinch, re-runs his own words in his head, has a whole minor argument with himself that's barely comprehensible even to him, and then sighs, roughly.]
I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... yeah. You're- you don't have to say shit.
No, it- it’s okay… I’m just bothering you… I took so much already, and now I’m even taking up space…
Or takes some shaky breaths. Its eye remains closed. It doesn’t want to hurt Simon. A shimmering liquid drips from its eye. It’s so bright that it hurts to look at. It catches the liquid in its hands and presses them together, solidifying the object. It holds out its hands and gives Simon…
A star. It just cried and made a star.
You’re having trouble thinking clearly, right? This… might hurt a bit, but if you touch it, it should make it a little easier to make sense of your thoughts…
[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.]
Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems...
[He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.]
I-I ended up like this. So...
I promise I won’t change you. I don’t know how to do that, nor do I want to. This will make things easier. Please trust me on this…
Or keeps its hands outstretched, gently cradling the tiny star.
How long has it been since he’s seen a star? It’s so small and warm, but not unbearably hot like the interior of the sub. It’s a welcoming warmth, gentle and soothing.
It’s like a fog is lifted from his mind. Oxygen is easier to breathe. He can hear himself think.
How do you feel? Any better?
Or keeps its eye closed. It doesn’t want to hurt Simon by accident. Yet even with its eye closed, it can still see him. It still observes him behind the veil of the eyelid.
[He doesn't realise how much he'd been running on empty until his mind clears, and holy shit. CO2 poisoning, radiation poisoning, the two concussions - shit, did he really just chug alcohol disinfectant like that? intoxication and probably alcohol poisoning too, then - sleep deprivation, not to mention dehydration, and whatever the hell has been happening with those voices and the... well. Now that he can actually hear his own thoughts over the pounding-screaming-whispers, he's shocked he's still going at all.]
Fffuckin- God, shit...
[He mumbles to himself, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand, where he can feel dried blood crusting on his chin from the coughing. He looks at Or with new eyes, wide with fear and awe all over again, but at least he's not scrambling to hide this time. Instead, he hurries to stand up, his mouth dropping open for a second until he compartmentalises, trying to get to his feet and promptly eating shit again as his injuries protest.]
What the Hell... I-I need to get out of here, f-fuckin' shit- why am I m-moping around th-this rot-damned thing...
Take a moment to steady yourself first. You need it. I’ll try to hold the blood at bay.
Or wants to clarify its earlier confession, but realizes now is not the time. It analyzes the controls - how the hell does anyone fuck up this badly at making a control panel? - and comes up with a plan that should’ve come to it much sooner.
Can this sub move vertically? From what I can see, if we go straight up, we should surface without much resistance.
Y-You kidding? This pile of shit's only a sub by technicality.
[Simon sighs, shaking his head. The room spins again, and he stills himself, bracing against the console as he slowly claws himself upright, his jaw twitching as his hand makes contact with something squishy - how had he missed how bad it had gotten in here?]
Even if we weren't lost in... whatever h-happened there-
[He nods to the circling scribbles on his map, grimacing slightly.]
-this fuckin' thing lost its ability to go up when they... wh-when they cut me off. After... yeah. It's supposed to be attached to the tow ship by a chain, the b-best I can do is drive up a hill.
Something knocks on the sub. It's quiet at first, almost tentative, but then it gets a little louder.
"Is someone in there?" a wavering voice calls from outside. It crackles through the speakers at the same time as it carries through the blood, somehow. "I can see a skeleton, but are you alive?"
[Simon startles, woken from whatever half-asleep, half-zoned out doze he'd slipped into, almost falling sideways with the force of his flinch from where he sits on the floor of the sub, leaned against the wall. For a moment, he can hear the fading strains of a Brother's voice - 'again, Butcher? Look at you, getting jumpy' - before it's drowned out by the one outside, and he takes a shuddering breath, burying his face in his bloodstained hands.]
Please... I'm so tired, please j-just- just stop fucking with me. You're not real!
[He sobs, strained, and before, it would have physically pained him to beg like that, but he's telling the truth. He's tired.]
"No, no, no. I am real. I must be."
The thing sounds a little frantic. The proximity sensors go off sequentially as it circles the sub once, twice. It must be relatively small, considering how little turbulence it creates.
"I am sorry for scaring you. Are you- You sound so hurt. Can I help?"
[Simon looks up to track the movement of the creature with the sensors, and he frowns slightly, seeing how much smaller it must be, compared to the Eel.]
Wh- What do you want?
[He mutters, his voice cracking, and his hands come down to wrap around himself like he's preparing for the walls of the sub to cave in any moment, his whole body tense and curled up in a ball smaller than a man of his size should be able to achieve.]
You c-can't help me. No-one- I can't- p-please, just- please. I can't do this anymore.
It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible.
"I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore."
It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh.
"I have hurt you. I should leave."
[He flinches again at the noise so close to his head, scrambling back from the wall with a sharp breath.]
Y-You don't- what?
[He mutters, shaking his head slightly, despite the way it makes the whole room spin. He'd love nothing more than for the Eel to leave him alone, but then the voice sounds almost contrite, and suddenly there's this gut-wrenching fear that feels like someone grabbed his intestines and yanked hard. The Eel would never offer to leave him alone, when it found him. It would simply taunt and taunt until he found the energy to run, or until his mind slipped away from him, and when he came back, it would be gone.]
"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again."
Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking.
"I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."
[Simon sounds genuinely confused, the concussion and the exhaustion making his thoughts slow and sluggish. He gets a little of it, though, and his shoulders visibly slump when it says it's not with the Eel.]
I-If you're not... Her, then... what the fuck are you? H-How are you- w-why are you down here? Why... why t-talk to me?
"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?"
It pauses to collect its thoughts.
"I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."
[He murmurs, his voice hoarse, but he falls silent again, letting the silence stretch for a while after it finishes.]
You were... fuuuuck.
[Simon runs his hands down his face, shuddering slightly as his palms catch on the ridge across his nose that he knows wasn't there before but that he's choosing not to think about, for his own sanity. He still sounds painfully confused.]
I... b-but you're... alive? You're n-not part of...? Fuckin'- th-this is so... shit. I-I don't...
"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it."
It sighs again.
"What about you? How did you come here?"
[The words almost fall out of his mouth in reply, immediate, instinctive, like it's the most important part he can think of.]
I... I didn't w-want to be here, I-I didn't-
It wasn't supposed to happen. But they- they don't care about th-that.
...They s-said it was just- just some fucking pictures, and then I w-was free. And then it was the s-sample, too, and then I'd b-be free. A-And- and th-then they fucking cut me off, and I- I was never gonna- they, they sent me down h-here and they knew I would d-die and- and they never even asked me if I did it! I d-didn't, I didn't want this, it w-wasn't supposed to...
[His words are disjointed, his tone rapidly oscillating between quiet and strained like he's on the verge of tears and loudly, blisteringly angry. He doesn't sound very stable, but he's desperate, desperate for something to just listen when he says he didn't mean to.]
"I understand."
The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows.
"I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."
[He murmurs, quiet again and still teary, but there's something else in his voice too, almost awed. His left hand slowly comes up to bring the pendant still wrapped tightly around his wrist into the palm of his right, and the thumbs the cracked glass with infinite gentleness, at odds with his coarseness.]
Th-They- y-yeah, the, the convict p-program, thing... I knew there w-were others, b-but... you really...?
It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action.
"Yes."
Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom?
Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera.
The cycle must end.
"I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."
[He's sounded on the edge of it this whole time, but Simon does sob at that, a cracked, choked-down little noise that makes his shoulders shake. He's so tired of having freedom dangled over his head, like a dog being taunted with a bone just out of reach.]
I c-can't- you can't, it won't, it n-never- she won't let me leave, please, s-stop fucking w-with me, god fucking-
[Simon growls, then, slamming his fist down on the iron floor, making the blood that coats it splash up his arm. His head tilts almost lazily back, and he stares at the blurry scrawls on the wall above him, nonsensical scribbled words and circles upon circles of tunnels in impossible formations - his map, if it can even be considered that.]
I d-don't wanna die, b-but this is worse. I-I can't... I can't take any more, please, Father, I'm tired...
[He whispers, mostly to himself, disregarding the creature outside, if it really is a creature and not just the Eel, still, taunting him endlessly with false hopes.]
Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks.
It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side.
Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair.
"Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.
[If he had any more of his pride left, Simon would deny the help he let out in that moment, flinching away and trying to scramble to his feet, only for the room to tilt sickeningly in his vision and send him crashing to the floor again. His eyes are wide and terrified, and he holds up a blood-soaked hand in a pathetic attempt to defend himself, watching the creature in blank shock.]
Wh-What- I- p-please-
[He says, weakly, like it'll do anything. His ears ring from the sudden movements, his head spinning, and he fancies that he can almost hear a Brother's mocking laugh on the edges of his awareness, a sound that makes him sick to his stomach.]
"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm."
The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".
[Simon's breathing is harsh and quick, rattling in his chest, but as he watches the creature struggle, it slows somewhat, the shock of seeing something so terrifying somewhat ruined by its inability to stay upright. He slowly lowers his hand, shifting to sit up properly, then forward onto his knees, and he scans over the creature warily, like he's expecting a trick.]
I-I- are- uh. Are you...
[He starts, but he can't quite force the word 'okay' out of his mouth, swallowing thickly instead, and balling his hands into fists so he doesn't have to see them tremble.]
"Mhm."
More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult.
"Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"
[It's more than a little horrifying, this bloodied, mutated, eel-like creature, but Simon didn't become the Butcher by panicking at every scary thing he saw, and at least the thing's not attacking. So he steels himself, taking a sharp breath and drawing himself upright as much as he can when he's still stuck on his knees for fear of keeling over, and he slowly nods. Just the breath makes his cracked ribs burn, and he can taste iron in his mouth, but he's doing his best, at least.]
Fuckin'- do I l-look okay?
[He growls, gesturing at the blood-slick walls of the sub and everything that entails, and that's not what he meant to say at all, but instinct has kicked in and made him prickly. It's hard to seem truly intimidating, though, when his anger is a very obvious thin veil over a much deeper tone of exhaustion, and he sways slightly with every breath, the room tilting around him.]
It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others.
"You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."
[Simon stares blankly at the creature, like he's not convinced he's not just hallucinating still, and the odd urge to laugh bubbles up in him. His breath hitches, but the only noise that comes out is a wet crackle from his lungs, and he manages to slowly shake his head, slumping down until his ass is against his heels and he's two seconds from falling forward onto his hands.]
Please.
[He says quietly, his head hanging low as though in supplication, although truthfully he's just too tired to keep it up. Again, it's not what he meant to say - he meant to snap, to remind the creature of how long he's been down here, of the tunnels that twist impossibly, of the Eel that bars his way and sends him further down - but instead he just sobs. He's so tired. If the creature wants to waste its time on the dying Butcher, he'll let it - never have it be said that Simon isn't a selfish man.]
"Yes, yes! Free the human!"
Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down.
"Why did I think I would still be able to read."
[Simon slides back onto his butt, curling back up into that same position from before, thighs held to his chest by his arms, shoulders hunched, his chin resting atop his knees, and he watches the creature somewhat distantly. The meagre overhead light glints off of his mismatched pupils and makes him wince, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the thing that's trying to free him. Trying being the important word, there, because it stumbles at the first hurdle, and Simon scrubs at his face with a hand for a second before he speaks up.]
Y'don't need that shit. I didn't read it. It's just... lever's go, handle's turn.
"Oh."
It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.
[If he's being honest with himself, Simon would much rather go back to that in-between place in his head, where nothing really feels real and he can pretend that he doesn't care about dying, but instead he finds himself annoyingly aware, still watching the creature, both admiring how quickly it picked up the controls and making disparaging mental comparisons to his own piloting ability.]
C-Can you... can you see...?
[He asks suddenly, another string of words that tumble out of his mouth against his will.]
"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything."
It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.
[Simon grunts an acknowledgement as he processes that answer, looking grimly thoughtful for a long moment before the creature trills and it makes him jump, his heartbeat and breathing spiking for a second before they settle.]
The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself.
"We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."
[He frowns, nodding slowly, his shoulders slumping a little as the sounds quiet down again. Something about its explanation sticks in his head, though, and it takes him a long second to work it out, his thoughts still sticky and difficult. His breath hitches when he realises it, though, and his head snaps up to stare fearfully at the sub wall, like he can hear something the creature can't.]
"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing."
Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.
I've... only ever seen one at a time, but it... she speaks with all the v-voices... there c-could be more.
[He says, almost absently, still practically burning a hole through the sub wall with his wide-eyed gaze. A whisper sounds on the edge of his hearing, and real or imagined, he flinches, his heartrate skyrocketing again for a minute until it slows again.]
They all become one...
[His voice drops to a mumble, and oops - he zoned out again for a second, barely aware that he even said anything at all, snapping his attention back to the creature to stay aware instead of getting lost in the slimy, rusty walls of the SM-13. He can't see it shake from here, but he's always been good at reading body language, a necessity for a man like him, and he can tell its on edge, although he wouldn't have the first clue what to do about it. He stays quiet, instead, watching the silent proximity sensors for any flickering signs of an Eel.]
That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting.
When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.
[Simon doesn't look overly comforted or reassured, but it doesn't scare him too much, at least - he's still wary, but he also just looks confused.]
U-Uh. What?
[The words slip out of him on instinct, and it's only after he's said them that he realises he actually doesn't want to know why the creature is disconcertingly displaying its full rows of teeth at him, and that's when his breath catches again.]
"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting."
Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered.
"My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..."
It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.
You forget that you look like a fish and a person got stuck in a meat grinder?
[Simon grumbles, something uneasy flashing behind his eyes at the idea that the creature cares for his comfort, until he pales with panic, his own words slow to register to his logical brain.]
I-I mea- I'm s-sorry, I didn't- that's not what I- I'm sorry- please-
[He starts up a stammered apology almost against his will, his heart kicking back up and his eyes going wide, only for the creature's reaction to make him freeze. He hears that whisper again, barely-there, too distant or too unreal to decipher the words, and he chokes on his next breath, falling silent as the sudden movement of the sub makes him fall forward and stay there, on his hands and knees in the thin layer of blood that coats the sub floor.]
The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself.
"E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.
[He flinches at the word, but at least it's a movement, and it spurs him into motion, scrambling away from the direction the creature was looking before, shoving himself backwards until his back hits the control console beside where the creature sits, forcing a shaky gasp out of him as the hard metal makes contact with his bruises.]
P-Please-
[Simon hisses, and he's not even sure what he's asking for, his eyes hazy and distant as more whispers echo in his ears, laughter and taunting, incomprehensible words.]
The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us."
Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။."
Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.
[Simon doesn't seem to even register the creature's noises, but he makes a choked noise as the proximity sensors start to ping, tensing and bringing an arm up to grab the edge of the console like he's bracing for impact even as the rest of him hunches, as though just pulling his limbs in closer will help the sub fit. His breath shudders harshly in his chest, and his shoulders shake, all at once feeling claustrophobic as the sides of the sub nearly scrape the walls of the tunnel, not that he should really be able to know that, his mind blurry and slow as it is.]
L-Leave me alone, f-fuck-
[He mumbles weakly to no-one, to the air that's thick with his own panic, to the blood that stains his hands and the corpses that turn their glassy eyes on him even though he's alone in the sub. Or, maybe not alone, but he's not yet convinced that the creature isn't a stress-induced hallucination either.]
"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬."
It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong.
"You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."
[He jerks away from the touch, his head tossing wildly as just the small tap feels like a brand burning into his skin, and yep, he didn't process any of those words. He can barely hear anything anyway, under the rushing of blood in his ears and the screaming, fuck, why are they screaming? Don't they know it's no use? Don't they know the blood is inevitable, all-consuming, endless?]
Please...
[He whispers, hoarse, even though he knows it's fruitless. She's here. He was a fool to think he could run.]
The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun.
"Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now.
It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls.
It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.
[Simon knows that word too well, registers it even as the rest of his mind shies away from the reality around him, and for a moment his eyes clear and he watches the creature go, pained and angry and so, so tired, before the chaos of the voices and the pain and the claustrophobia and the please, please, I want to live, all crowd back in and send him reeling back into that place where nothing is real and all he can do is wait for the end, his hand clenched around the pendant hanging from his wrist, stolen piety that he still clings to like it will save him.]
P-Please, don't-
[He mutters, and he doesn't know if he's begging for his own life or for the creature's, but either way, it's probably useless.]
The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside.
It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.
[Simon screws his eyes shut and lets his mind unfocus as the voices scream at him, spitting epithets he doesn't understand, only the mocking tone really getting through to him, as it always does. He half-expects to hear his Brother's voice again, but then it fades, and time skips like a broken record, stuttering and glitching until the ocean outside is still and Simon blinks, completely unaware of how much time has passed. He cranes his neck up to look at the console, tilting his head to the side slightly as his vacant gaze traces the phantom outline of a being there, and his breath hitches as the likelihood of it being another trick swamps him. He'd barely let himself hope at all, a tiny spark of nothing, and yet it still hurts to have it ripped away again.]
Fuck.
[He mutters, his voice hoarse and wet as he buries his face in bloodied hands and tries to steady his breathing, each ragged draw of air making his cracked ribs scream.]
More blood drips down onto the floor, right beside him. It starts out as a small trickle, then hurries into a steady stream. Suddenly, it stops entirely, and the puddle congeals and shapes itself into something humanoid. It takes longer for the features to define themselves, as though the liquid itself is sluggish, but eventually the creature is there, sitting next to him, its tail curled around its own legs.
"I lived!" it chirps. "The Eel is away. Still alive, but not here. I can. Keep going."
Its voice is a little too cheerful, wavering and stretched thin to conceal the hurt underneath.
[Simon twitches away from the pouring blood, eyes still screwed shut beneath his hands, his nails digging into the skin of his forehead as the dripping sound starts to grate on the last of his frayed nerves, and when the creature speaks, he goes rigid, a choked sob forcing it's way out of his throat.]
I c-can't, please, please-
[He mumbles, lost all over again, and the words that slip out of mouth don't even feel his own anymore. He's so tired of being fucked with, over and over again, stuck in a loop of freedom and damnation until his brain melts. He coughs, hacking and wet, and he's forced to pull his hands away from his face to avoid splashing the blood that comes up back onto his chin. He spits it onto the ground instead, and when he looks over at the creature, his eyes are back to that dull, distant emptiness.]
Please, I just w-want it t-to be over... stop it, p-please...
Whatever optimism it had mustered fades in a moment. It tries to scan the human's body again, but the sickness seeping into their organs is too painful to witness. Thin, translucent blood- its closest approximation to tears- wells up at the corners of its eyes. Whether out of weakness or instinct, it finds itself leaning forward and pulling the human into a clumsy hug.
"I know, human," it mumbles. "I know."
[Everything stops for Simon in that moment, right down to his breathing, a wet hitch as arms wrap around him and fuck, how long has it been since someone's touched him properly at all, let alone something so soft as a hug?]
Wh-What...
[He mumbles, his mouth moving on instinct, but he's already decided he won't question it. Years and years of fight-or-flight reactions every time someone so much as brushed against him in a corridor, and yet it's here, in the most stressful situation of his life, that the touch breaks him. His whole body is rigid and tense, but he lets his head drop, resting his forehead on the creature's shoulder as a broken, sob-like noise pushes out of his throat and he shudders. If this is what his brain has chosen to give him while he dies, then so be it. It's better than the other hallucinations.]
*You hear an odd sound above you, and near the ceiling of the Iron Lung something in the corner of your vision starts to almost wobble, or warp. And then, from this quivering seam, bursts some rectangular hole, something that can only be described as a portal. Light torrents through it, and there is a rush of cool, fresh air.*
*And then, something falls through this hole, and it closes sharply behind them, taking the light and the air with it. You can tell that this is a person, not very tall. They hit the floor of the submarine hard.*
Ow— OH FUCK WHY IS THE FLOOR SLIMY? EW EW EW WHERE AM I—?
*Your radio cracks with static as the stranger scrambles to sit up, and look around them. You can see now that they aren’t very old, maybe sixteen. They wear glasses and have a small, glowing device in their hand.*
Oh yeah, I got my coordinates way off…
*In the middle of their sentence, they see you.*
Oh hi, sir… sorry about this….
Ffffuck-!
[Simon scrambles away the second he notices the air warping, a hoarse whimper ripping itself from his throat, and he stares with wide, dull eyes at the apparition - because it must be, a hallucination, another false hope dangled in his face by the Eel, or a CO2-and-radiation-poisoning-induced figment of his imagination. Either way, it's not worth acknowledging, and he simply turns away from it, curling back up into a ball against the side of the sub and digging his nails into the bubbling, itchy skin on the side of his throat, trying desperately to return to that hazy state where it doesn't hurt so much and he can pretend he's not just sitting in a metal coffin waiting to die.]
[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]
Or is immediately freaked out by the sudden transformation of Simon’s arms. It passes him some bandages. Other than that it has no idea how to help.
Please don’t die please don’t die-
- @l1l-l1ght
[Simon takes the bandages, but instead of just wrapping his arms like a normal person, he uses the fabric to mop up the pus-plasma-blood mixture that's slowly drying on his face - he's used to the blood by now, but something about the sour smell of that substance so close to his nose is more sickening than the constant stench of iron, and he wants it off. He's not sure what to actually do about Or's upset though, especially since he can still feel his own panic roiling underneath a thick barrier of hazy dullness, his hands still shaking furiously and his breath harsh in his chest.]
Not fuckin' going anywhere yet, chill out.
[He mutters awkwardly, fiddling with the now-soiled bandages in his grip, his voice low and hoarser still, now, from the alcohol.]
Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.
[Simon says flatly after a moment, not angrily, just even and tired. He can feel the thing's gaze on him like a brand, and it burns into his irritated, bloody skin, making him feel weirdly itchy.]
[The eye doesn't exactly escape his notice, but Simon doesn't bother to question it, numb to the weirdness. He watches them flinch, re-runs his own words in his head, has a whole minor argument with himself that's barely comprehensible even to him, and then sighs, roughly.]
I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... yeah. You're- you don't have to say shit.
No, it- it’s okay… I’m just bothering you… I took so much already, and now I’m even taking up space…
Or takes some shaky breaths. Its eye remains closed. It doesn’t want to hurt Simon. A shimmering liquid drips from its eye. It’s so bright that it hurts to look at. It catches the liquid in its hands and presses them together, solidifying the object. It holds out its hands and gives Simon…
A star. It just cried and made a star.
You’re having trouble thinking clearly, right? This… might hurt a bit, but if you touch it, it should make it a little easier to make sense of your thoughts…
[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.]
Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems...
[He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.]
I-I ended up like this. So...
I promise I won’t change you. I don’t know how to do that, nor do I want to. This will make things easier. Please trust me on this…
Or keeps its hands outstretched, gently cradling the tiny star.
How long has it been since he’s seen a star? It’s so small and warm, but not unbearably hot like the interior of the sub. It’s a welcoming warmth, gentle and soothing.
It’s like a fog is lifted from his mind. Oxygen is easier to breathe. He can hear himself think.
How do you feel? Any better?
Or keeps its eye closed. It doesn’t want to hurt Simon by accident. Yet even with its eye closed, it can still see him. It still observes him behind the veil of the eyelid.
[He doesn't realise how much he'd been running on empty until his mind clears, and holy shit. CO2 poisoning, radiation poisoning, the two concussions - shit, did he really just chug alcohol disinfectant like that? intoxication and probably alcohol poisoning too, then - sleep deprivation, not to mention dehydration, and whatever the hell has been happening with those voices and the... well. Now that he can actually hear his own thoughts over the pounding-screaming-whispers, he's shocked he's still going at all.]
Fffuckin- God, shit...
[He mumbles to himself, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand, where he can feel dried blood crusting on his chin from the coughing. He looks at Or with new eyes, wide with fear and awe all over again, but at least he's not scrambling to hide this time. Instead, he hurries to stand up, his mouth dropping open for a second until he compartmentalises, trying to get to his feet and promptly eating shit again as his injuries protest.]
What the Hell... I-I need to get out of here, f-fuckin' shit- why am I m-moping around th-this rot-damned thing...
*You hear an odd sound above you, and near the ceiling of the Iron Lung something in the corner of your vision starts to almost wobble, or warp. And then, from this quivering seam, bursts some rectangular hole, something that can only be described as a portal. Light torrents through it, and there is a rush of cool, fresh air.*
*And then, something falls through this hole, and it closes sharply behind them, taking the light and the air with it. You can tell that this is a person, not very tall. They hit the floor of the submarine hard.*
Ow— OH FUCK WHY IS THE FLOOR SLIMY? EW EW EW WHERE AM I—?
*Your radio cracks with static as the stranger scrambles to sit up, and look around them. You can see now that they aren’t very old, maybe sixteen. They wear glasses and have a small, glowing device in their hand.*
Oh yeah, I got my coordinates way off…
*In the middle of their sentence, they see you.*
Oh hi, sir… sorry about this….
Ffffuck-!
[Simon scrambles away the second he notices the air warping, a hoarse whimper ripping itself from his throat, and he stares with wide, dull eyes at the apparition - because it must be, a hallucination, another false hope dangled in his face by the Eel, or a CO2-and-radiation-poisoning-induced figment of his imagination. Either way, it's not worth acknowledging, and he simply turns away from it, curling back up into a ball against the side of the sub and digging his nails into the bubbling, itchy skin on the side of his throat, trying desperately to return to that hazy state where it doesn't hurt so much and he can pretend he's not just sitting in a metal coffin waiting to die.]
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Something knocks on the sub. It's quiet at first, almost tentative, but then it gets a little louder.
"Is someone in there?" a wavering voice calls from outside. It crackles through the speakers at the same time as it carries through the blood, somehow. "I can see a skeleton, but are you alive?"
[Simon startles, woken from whatever half-asleep, half-zoned out doze he'd slipped into, almost falling sideways with the force of his flinch from where he sits on the floor of the sub, leaned against the wall. For a moment, he can hear the fading strains of a Brother's voice - 'again, Butcher? Look at you, getting jumpy' - before it's drowned out by the one outside, and he takes a shuddering breath, burying his face in his bloodstained hands.]
Please... I'm so tired, please j-just- just stop fucking with me. You're not real!
[He sobs, strained, and before, it would have physically pained him to beg like that, but he's telling the truth. He's tired.]
"No, no, no. I am real. I must be."
The thing sounds a little frantic. The proximity sensors go off sequentially as it circles the sub once, twice. It must be relatively small, considering how little turbulence it creates.
"I am sorry for scaring you. Are you- You sound so hurt. Can I help?"
[Simon looks up to track the movement of the creature with the sensors, and he frowns slightly, seeing how much smaller it must be, compared to the Eel.]
Wh- What do you want?
[He mutters, his voice cracking, and his hands come down to wrap around himself like he's preparing for the walls of the sub to cave in any moment, his whole body tense and curled up in a ball smaller than a man of his size should be able to achieve.]
You c-can't help me. No-one- I can't- p-please, just- please. I can't do this anymore.
It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible.
"I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore."
It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh.
"I have hurt you. I should leave."
[He flinches again at the noise so close to his head, scrambling back from the wall with a sharp breath.]
Y-You don't- what?
[He mutters, shaking his head slightly, despite the way it makes the whole room spin. He'd love nothing more than for the Eel to leave him alone, but then the voice sounds almost contrite, and suddenly there's this gut-wrenching fear that feels like someone grabbed his intestines and yanked hard. The Eel would never offer to leave him alone, when it found him. It would simply taunt and taunt until he found the energy to run, or until his mind slipped away from him, and when he came back, it would be gone.]
"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again."
Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking.
"I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."
[Simon sounds genuinely confused, the concussion and the exhaustion making his thoughts slow and sluggish. He gets a little of it, though, and his shoulders visibly slump when it says it's not with the Eel.]
I-If you're not... Her, then... what the fuck are you? H-How are you- w-why are you down here? Why... why t-talk to me?
"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?"
It pauses to collect its thoughts.
"I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."
[He murmurs, his voice hoarse, but he falls silent again, letting the silence stretch for a while after it finishes.]
You were... fuuuuck.
[Simon runs his hands down his face, shuddering slightly as his palms catch on the ridge across his nose that he knows wasn't there before but that he's choosing not to think about, for his own sanity. He still sounds painfully confused.]
I... b-but you're... alive? You're n-not part of...? Fuckin'- th-this is so... shit. I-I don't...
"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it."
It sighs again.
"What about you? How did you come here?"
[The words almost fall out of his mouth in reply, immediate, instinctive, like it's the most important part he can think of.]
I... I didn't w-want to be here, I-I didn't-
It wasn't supposed to happen. But they- they don't care about th-that.
...They s-said it was just- just some fucking pictures, and then I w-was free. And then it was the s-sample, too, and then I'd b-be free. A-And- and th-then they fucking cut me off, and I- I was never gonna- they, they sent me down h-here and they knew I would d-die and- and they never even asked me if I did it! I d-didn't, I didn't want this, it w-wasn't supposed to...
[His words are disjointed, his tone rapidly oscillating between quiet and strained like he's on the verge of tears and loudly, blisteringly angry. He doesn't sound very stable, but he's desperate, desperate for something to just listen when he says he didn't mean to.]
"I understand."
The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows.
"I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."
[He murmurs, quiet again and still teary, but there's something else in his voice too, almost awed. His left hand slowly comes up to bring the pendant still wrapped tightly around his wrist into the palm of his right, and the thumbs the cracked glass with infinite gentleness, at odds with his coarseness.]
Th-They- y-yeah, the, the convict p-program, thing... I knew there w-were others, b-but... you really...?
It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action.
"Yes."
Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom?
Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera.
The cycle must end.
"I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."
[He's sounded on the edge of it this whole time, but Simon does sob at that, a cracked, choked-down little noise that makes his shoulders shake. He's so tired of having freedom dangled over his head, like a dog being taunted with a bone just out of reach.]
I c-can't- you can't, it won't, it n-never- she won't let me leave, please, s-stop fucking w-with me, god fucking-
[Simon growls, then, slamming his fist down on the iron floor, making the blood that coats it splash up his arm. His head tilts almost lazily back, and he stares at the blurry scrawls on the wall above him, nonsensical scribbled words and circles upon circles of tunnels in impossible formations - his map, if it can even be considered that.]
I d-don't wanna die, b-but this is worse. I-I can't... I can't take any more, please, Father, I'm tired...
[He whispers, mostly to himself, disregarding the creature outside, if it really is a creature and not just the Eel, still, taunting him endlessly with false hopes.]
Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks.
It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side.
Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair.
"Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.
[If he had any more of his pride left, Simon would deny the help he let out in that moment, flinching away and trying to scramble to his feet, only for the room to tilt sickeningly in his vision and send him crashing to the floor again. His eyes are wide and terrified, and he holds up a blood-soaked hand in a pathetic attempt to defend himself, watching the creature in blank shock.]
Wh-What- I- p-please-
[He says, weakly, like it'll do anything. His ears ring from the sudden movements, his head spinning, and he fancies that he can almost hear a Brother's mocking laugh on the edges of his awareness, a sound that makes him sick to his stomach.]
"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm."
The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".
[Simon's breathing is harsh and quick, rattling in his chest, but as he watches the creature struggle, it slows somewhat, the shock of seeing something so terrifying somewhat ruined by its inability to stay upright. He slowly lowers his hand, shifting to sit up properly, then forward onto his knees, and he scans over the creature warily, like he's expecting a trick.]
I-I- are- uh. Are you...
[He starts, but he can't quite force the word 'okay' out of his mouth, swallowing thickly instead, and balling his hands into fists so he doesn't have to see them tremble.]
"Mhm."
More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult.
"Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"
[It's more than a little horrifying, this bloodied, mutated, eel-like creature, but Simon didn't become the Butcher by panicking at every scary thing he saw, and at least the thing's not attacking. So he steels himself, taking a sharp breath and drawing himself upright as much as he can when he's still stuck on his knees for fear of keeling over, and he slowly nods. Just the breath makes his cracked ribs burn, and he can taste iron in his mouth, but he's doing his best, at least.]
Fuckin'- do I l-look okay?
[He growls, gesturing at the blood-slick walls of the sub and everything that entails, and that's not what he meant to say at all, but instinct has kicked in and made him prickly. It's hard to seem truly intimidating, though, when his anger is a very obvious thin veil over a much deeper tone of exhaustion, and he sways slightly with every breath, the room tilting around him.]
It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others.
"You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."
[Simon stares blankly at the creature, like he's not convinced he's not just hallucinating still, and the odd urge to laugh bubbles up in him. His breath hitches, but the only noise that comes out is a wet crackle from his lungs, and he manages to slowly shake his head, slumping down until his ass is against his heels and he's two seconds from falling forward onto his hands.]
Please.
[He says quietly, his head hanging low as though in supplication, although truthfully he's just too tired to keep it up. Again, it's not what he meant to say - he meant to snap, to remind the creature of how long he's been down here, of the tunnels that twist impossibly, of the Eel that bars his way and sends him further down - but instead he just sobs. He's so tired. If the creature wants to waste its time on the dying Butcher, he'll let it - never have it be said that Simon isn't a selfish man.]
"Yes, yes! Free the human!"
Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down.
"Why did I think I would still be able to read."
[Simon slides back onto his butt, curling back up into that same position from before, thighs held to his chest by his arms, shoulders hunched, his chin resting atop his knees, and he watches the creature somewhat distantly. The meagre overhead light glints off of his mismatched pupils and makes him wince, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the thing that's trying to free him. Trying being the important word, there, because it stumbles at the first hurdle, and Simon scrubs at his face with a hand for a second before he speaks up.]
Y'don't need that shit. I didn't read it. It's just... lever's go, handle's turn.
"Oh."
It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.
[If he's being honest with himself, Simon would much rather go back to that in-between place in his head, where nothing really feels real and he can pretend that he doesn't care about dying, but instead he finds himself annoyingly aware, still watching the creature, both admiring how quickly it picked up the controls and making disparaging mental comparisons to his own piloting ability.]
C-Can you... can you see...?
[He asks suddenly, another string of words that tumble out of his mouth against his will.]
"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything."
It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.
[Simon grunts an acknowledgement as he processes that answer, looking grimly thoughtful for a long moment before the creature trills and it makes him jump, his heartbeat and breathing spiking for a second before they settle.]
The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself.
"We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."
[He frowns, nodding slowly, his shoulders slumping a little as the sounds quiet down again. Something about its explanation sticks in his head, though, and it takes him a long second to work it out, his thoughts still sticky and difficult. His breath hitches when he realises it, though, and his head snaps up to stare fearfully at the sub wall, like he can hear something the creature can't.]
"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing."
Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.
I've... only ever seen one at a time, but it... she speaks with all the v-voices... there c-could be more.
[He says, almost absently, still practically burning a hole through the sub wall with his wide-eyed gaze. A whisper sounds on the edge of his hearing, and real or imagined, he flinches, his heartrate skyrocketing again for a minute until it slows again.]
They all become one...
[His voice drops to a mumble, and oops - he zoned out again for a second, barely aware that he even said anything at all, snapping his attention back to the creature to stay aware instead of getting lost in the slimy, rusty walls of the SM-13. He can't see it shake from here, but he's always been good at reading body language, a necessity for a man like him, and he can tell its on edge, although he wouldn't have the first clue what to do about it. He stays quiet, instead, watching the silent proximity sensors for any flickering signs of an Eel.]
That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting.
When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.
[Simon doesn't look overly comforted or reassured, but it doesn't scare him too much, at least - he's still wary, but he also just looks confused.]
U-Uh. What?
[The words slip out of him on instinct, and it's only after he's said them that he realises he actually doesn't want to know why the creature is disconcertingly displaying its full rows of teeth at him, and that's when his breath catches again.]
"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting."
Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered.
"My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..."
It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.
You forget that you look like a fish and a person got stuck in a meat grinder?
[Simon grumbles, something uneasy flashing behind his eyes at the idea that the creature cares for his comfort, until he pales with panic, his own words slow to register to his logical brain.]
I-I mea- I'm s-sorry, I didn't- that's not what I- I'm sorry- please-
[He starts up a stammered apology almost against his will, his heart kicking back up and his eyes going wide, only for the creature's reaction to make him freeze. He hears that whisper again, barely-there, too distant or too unreal to decipher the words, and he chokes on his next breath, falling silent as the sudden movement of the sub makes him fall forward and stay there, on his hands and knees in the thin layer of blood that coats the sub floor.]
The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself.
"E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.
[He flinches at the word, but at least it's a movement, and it spurs him into motion, scrambling away from the direction the creature was looking before, shoving himself backwards until his back hits the control console beside where the creature sits, forcing a shaky gasp out of him as the hard metal makes contact with his bruises.]
P-Please-
[Simon hisses, and he's not even sure what he's asking for, his eyes hazy and distant as more whispers echo in his ears, laughter and taunting, incomprehensible words.]
The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us."
Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။."
Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.
[Simon doesn't seem to even register the creature's noises, but he makes a choked noise as the proximity sensors start to ping, tensing and bringing an arm up to grab the edge of the console like he's bracing for impact even as the rest of him hunches, as though just pulling his limbs in closer will help the sub fit. His breath shudders harshly in his chest, and his shoulders shake, all at once feeling claustrophobic as the sides of the sub nearly scrape the walls of the tunnel, not that he should really be able to know that, his mind blurry and slow as it is.]
L-Leave me alone, f-fuck-
[He mumbles weakly to no-one, to the air that's thick with his own panic, to the blood that stains his hands and the corpses that turn their glassy eyes on him even though he's alone in the sub. Or, maybe not alone, but he's not yet convinced that the creature isn't a stress-induced hallucination either.]
"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬."
It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong.
"You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."
[He jerks away from the touch, his head tossing wildly as just the small tap feels like a brand burning into his skin, and yep, he didn't process any of those words. He can barely hear anything anyway, under the rushing of blood in his ears and the screaming, fuck, why are they screaming? Don't they know it's no use? Don't they know the blood is inevitable, all-consuming, endless?]
Please...
[He whispers, hoarse, even though he knows it's fruitless. She's here. He was a fool to think he could run.]
The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun.
"Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now.
It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls.
It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.
[Simon knows that word too well, registers it even as the rest of his mind shies away from the reality around him, and for a moment his eyes clear and he watches the creature go, pained and angry and so, so tired, before the chaos of the voices and the pain and the claustrophobia and the please, please, I want to live, all crowd back in and send him reeling back into that place where nothing is real and all he can do is wait for the end, his hand clenched around the pendant hanging from his wrist, stolen piety that he still clings to like it will save him.]
P-Please, don't-
[He mutters, and he doesn't know if he's begging for his own life or for the creature's, but either way, it's probably useless.]
The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside.
It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.
[Simon screws his eyes shut and lets his mind unfocus as the voices scream at him, spitting epithets he doesn't understand, only the mocking tone really getting through to him, as it always does. He half-expects to hear his Brother's voice again, but then it fades, and time skips like a broken record, stuttering and glitching until the ocean outside is still and Simon blinks, completely unaware of how much time has passed. He cranes his neck up to look at the console, tilting his head to the side slightly as his vacant gaze traces the phantom outline of a being there, and his breath hitches as the likelihood of it being another trick swamps him. He'd barely let himself hope at all, a tiny spark of nothing, and yet it still hurts to have it ripped away again.]
Fuck.
[He mutters, his voice hoarse and wet as he buries his face in bloodied hands and tries to steady his breathing, each ragged draw of air making his cracked ribs scream.]
More blood drips down onto the floor, right beside him. It starts out as a small trickle, then hurries into a steady stream. Suddenly, it stops entirely, and the puddle congeals and shapes itself into something humanoid. It takes longer for the features to define themselves, as though the liquid itself is sluggish, but eventually the creature is there, sitting next to him, its tail curled around its own legs.
"I lived!" it chirps. "The Eel is away. Still alive, but not here. I can. Keep going."
Its voice is a little too cheerful, wavering and stretched thin to conceal the hurt underneath.
[Simon twitches away from the pouring blood, eyes still screwed shut beneath his hands, his nails digging into the skin of his forehead as the dripping sound starts to grate on the last of his frayed nerves, and when the creature speaks, he goes rigid, a choked sob forcing it's way out of his throat.]
I c-can't, please, please-
[He mumbles, lost all over again, and the words that slip out of mouth don't even feel his own anymore. He's so tired of being fucked with, over and over again, stuck in a loop of freedom and damnation until his brain melts. He coughs, hacking and wet, and he's forced to pull his hands away from his face to avoid splashing the blood that comes up back onto his chin. He spits it onto the ground instead, and when he looks over at the creature, his eyes are back to that dull, distant emptiness.]
Please, I just w-want it t-to be over... stop it, p-please...
Or is immediately freaked out by the sudden transformation of Simon’s arms. It passes him some bandages. Other than that it has no idea how to help.
Please don’t die please don’t die-
- @l1l-l1ght
[Simon takes the bandages, but instead of just wrapping his arms like a normal person, he uses the fabric to mop up the pus-plasma-blood mixture that's slowly drying on his face - he's used to the blood by now, but something about the sour smell of that substance so close to his nose is more sickening than the constant stench of iron, and he wants it off. He's not sure what to actually do about Or's upset though, especially since he can still feel his own panic roiling underneath a thick barrier of hazy dullness, his hands still shaking furiously and his breath harsh in his chest.]
Not fuckin' going anywhere yet, chill out.
[He mutters awkwardly, fiddling with the now-soiled bandages in his grip, his voice low and hoarser still, now, from the alcohol.]
Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.
[Simon says flatly after a moment, not angrily, just even and tired. He can feel the thing's gaze on him like a brand, and it burns into his irritated, bloody skin, making him feel weirdly itchy.]
[The eye doesn't exactly escape his notice, but Simon doesn't bother to question it, numb to the weirdness. He watches them flinch, re-runs his own words in his head, has a whole minor argument with himself that's barely comprehensible even to him, and then sighs, roughly.]
I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... yeah. You're- you don't have to say shit.
No, it- it’s okay… I’m just bothering you… I took so much already, and now I’m even taking up space…
Or takes some shaky breaths. Its eye remains closed. It doesn’t want to hurt Simon. A shimmering liquid drips from its eye. It’s so bright that it hurts to look at. It catches the liquid in its hands and presses them together, solidifying the object. It holds out its hands and gives Simon…
A star. It just cried and made a star.
You’re having trouble thinking clearly, right? This… might hurt a bit, but if you touch it, it should make it a little easier to make sense of your thoughts…
[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.]
Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems...
[He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.]
I-I ended up like this. So...
I promise I won’t change you. I don’t know how to do that, nor do I want to. This will make things easier. Please trust me on this…
Or keeps its hands outstretched, gently cradling the tiny star.
How long has it been since he’s seen a star? It’s so small and warm, but not unbearably hot like the interior of the sub. It’s a welcoming warmth, gentle and soothing.
Something knocks on the sub. It's quiet at first, almost tentative, but then it gets a little louder.
"Is someone in there?" a wavering voice calls from outside. It crackles through the speakers at the same time as it carries through the blood, somehow. "I can see a skeleton, but are you alive?"
[Simon startles, woken from whatever half-asleep, half-zoned out doze he'd slipped into, almost falling sideways with the force of his flinch from where he sits on the floor of the sub, leaned against the wall. For a moment, he can hear the fading strains of a Brother's voice - 'again, Butcher? Look at you, getting jumpy' - before it's drowned out by the one outside, and he takes a shuddering breath, burying his face in his bloodstained hands.]
Please... I'm so tired, please j-just- just stop fucking with me. You're not real!
[He sobs, strained, and before, it would have physically pained him to beg like that, but he's telling the truth. He's tired.]
"No, no, no. I am real. I must be."
The thing sounds a little frantic. The proximity sensors go off sequentially as it circles the sub once, twice. It must be relatively small, considering how little turbulence it creates.
"I am sorry for scaring you. Are you- You sound so hurt. Can I help?"
[Simon looks up to track the movement of the creature with the sensors, and he frowns slightly, seeing how much smaller it must be, compared to the Eel.]
Wh- What do you want?
[He mutters, his voice cracking, and his hands come down to wrap around himself like he's preparing for the walls of the sub to cave in any moment, his whole body tense and curled up in a ball smaller than a man of his size should be able to achieve.]
You c-can't help me. No-one- I can't- p-please, just- please. I can't do this anymore.
It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible.
"I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore."
It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh.
"I have hurt you. I should leave."
[He flinches again at the noise so close to his head, scrambling back from the wall with a sharp breath.]
Y-You don't- what?
[He mutters, shaking his head slightly, despite the way it makes the whole room spin. He'd love nothing more than for the Eel to leave him alone, but then the voice sounds almost contrite, and suddenly there's this gut-wrenching fear that feels like someone grabbed his intestines and yanked hard. The Eel would never offer to leave him alone, when it found him. It would simply taunt and taunt until he found the energy to run, or until his mind slipped away from him, and when he came back, it would be gone.]
"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again."
Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking.
"I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."
[Simon sounds genuinely confused, the concussion and the exhaustion making his thoughts slow and sluggish. He gets a little of it, though, and his shoulders visibly slump when it says it's not with the Eel.]
I-If you're not... Her, then... what the fuck are you? H-How are you- w-why are you down here? Why... why t-talk to me?
"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?"
It pauses to collect its thoughts.
"I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."
[He murmurs, his voice hoarse, but he falls silent again, letting the silence stretch for a while after it finishes.]
You were... fuuuuck.
[Simon runs his hands down his face, shuddering slightly as his palms catch on the ridge across his nose that he knows wasn't there before but that he's choosing not to think about, for his own sanity. He still sounds painfully confused.]
I... b-but you're... alive? You're n-not part of...? Fuckin'- th-this is so... shit. I-I don't...
"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it."
It sighs again.
"What about you? How did you come here?"
[The words almost fall out of his mouth in reply, immediate, instinctive, like it's the most important part he can think of.]
I... I didn't w-want to be here, I-I didn't-
It wasn't supposed to happen. But they- they don't care about th-that.
...They s-said it was just- just some fucking pictures, and then I w-was free. And then it was the s-sample, too, and then I'd b-be free. A-And- and th-then they fucking cut me off, and I- I was never gonna- they, they sent me down h-here and they knew I would d-die and- and they never even asked me if I did it! I d-didn't, I didn't want this, it w-wasn't supposed to...
[His words are disjointed, his tone rapidly oscillating between quiet and strained like he's on the verge of tears and loudly, blisteringly angry. He doesn't sound very stable, but he's desperate, desperate for something to just listen when he says he didn't mean to.]
"I understand."
The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows.
"I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."
[He murmurs, quiet again and still teary, but there's something else in his voice too, almost awed. His left hand slowly comes up to bring the pendant still wrapped tightly around his wrist into the palm of his right, and the thumbs the cracked glass with infinite gentleness, at odds with his coarseness.]
Th-They- y-yeah, the, the convict p-program, thing... I knew there w-were others, b-but... you really...?
It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action.
"Yes."
Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom?
Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera.
The cycle must end.
"I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."
[He's sounded on the edge of it this whole time, but Simon does sob at that, a cracked, choked-down little noise that makes his shoulders shake. He's so tired of having freedom dangled over his head, like a dog being taunted with a bone just out of reach.]
I c-can't- you can't, it won't, it n-never- she won't let me leave, please, s-stop fucking w-with me, god fucking-
[Simon growls, then, slamming his fist down on the iron floor, making the blood that coats it splash up his arm. His head tilts almost lazily back, and he stares at the blurry scrawls on the wall above him, nonsensical scribbled words and circles upon circles of tunnels in impossible formations - his map, if it can even be considered that.]
I d-don't wanna die, b-but this is worse. I-I can't... I can't take any more, please, Father, I'm tired...
[He whispers, mostly to himself, disregarding the creature outside, if it really is a creature and not just the Eel, still, taunting him endlessly with false hopes.]
Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks.
It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side.
Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair.
"Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.
[If he had any more of his pride left, Simon would deny the help he let out in that moment, flinching away and trying to scramble to his feet, only for the room to tilt sickeningly in his vision and send him crashing to the floor again. His eyes are wide and terrified, and he holds up a blood-soaked hand in a pathetic attempt to defend himself, watching the creature in blank shock.]
Wh-What- I- p-please-
[He says, weakly, like it'll do anything. His ears ring from the sudden movements, his head spinning, and he fancies that he can almost hear a Brother's mocking laugh on the edges of his awareness, a sound that makes him sick to his stomach.]
"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm."
The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".
[Simon's breathing is harsh and quick, rattling in his chest, but as he watches the creature struggle, it slows somewhat, the shock of seeing something so terrifying somewhat ruined by its inability to stay upright. He slowly lowers his hand, shifting to sit up properly, then forward onto his knees, and he scans over the creature warily, like he's expecting a trick.]
I-I- are- uh. Are you...
[He starts, but he can't quite force the word 'okay' out of his mouth, swallowing thickly instead, and balling his hands into fists so he doesn't have to see them tremble.]
"Mhm."
More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult.
"Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"
[It's more than a little horrifying, this bloodied, mutated, eel-like creature, but Simon didn't become the Butcher by panicking at every scary thing he saw, and at least the thing's not attacking. So he steels himself, taking a sharp breath and drawing himself upright as much as he can when he's still stuck on his knees for fear of keeling over, and he slowly nods. Just the breath makes his cracked ribs burn, and he can taste iron in his mouth, but he's doing his best, at least.]
Fuckin'- do I l-look okay?
[He growls, gesturing at the blood-slick walls of the sub and everything that entails, and that's not what he meant to say at all, but instinct has kicked in and made him prickly. It's hard to seem truly intimidating, though, when his anger is a very obvious thin veil over a much deeper tone of exhaustion, and he sways slightly with every breath, the room tilting around him.]
It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others.
"You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."
[Simon stares blankly at the creature, like he's not convinced he's not just hallucinating still, and the odd urge to laugh bubbles up in him. His breath hitches, but the only noise that comes out is a wet crackle from his lungs, and he manages to slowly shake his head, slumping down until his ass is against his heels and he's two seconds from falling forward onto his hands.]
Please.
[He says quietly, his head hanging low as though in supplication, although truthfully he's just too tired to keep it up. Again, it's not what he meant to say - he meant to snap, to remind the creature of how long he's been down here, of the tunnels that twist impossibly, of the Eel that bars his way and sends him further down - but instead he just sobs. He's so tired. If the creature wants to waste its time on the dying Butcher, he'll let it - never have it be said that Simon isn't a selfish man.]
"Yes, yes! Free the human!"
Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down.
"Why did I think I would still be able to read."
[Simon slides back onto his butt, curling back up into that same position from before, thighs held to his chest by his arms, shoulders hunched, his chin resting atop his knees, and he watches the creature somewhat distantly. The meagre overhead light glints off of his mismatched pupils and makes him wince, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the thing that's trying to free him. Trying being the important word, there, because it stumbles at the first hurdle, and Simon scrubs at his face with a hand for a second before he speaks up.]
Y'don't need that shit. I didn't read it. It's just... lever's go, handle's turn.
"Oh."
It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.
[If he's being honest with himself, Simon would much rather go back to that in-between place in his head, where nothing really feels real and he can pretend that he doesn't care about dying, but instead he finds himself annoyingly aware, still watching the creature, both admiring how quickly it picked up the controls and making disparaging mental comparisons to his own piloting ability.]
C-Can you... can you see...?
[He asks suddenly, another string of words that tumble out of his mouth against his will.]
"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything."
It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.
[Simon grunts an acknowledgement as he processes that answer, looking grimly thoughtful for a long moment before the creature trills and it makes him jump, his heartbeat and breathing spiking for a second before they settle.]
The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself.
"We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."
[He frowns, nodding slowly, his shoulders slumping a little as the sounds quiet down again. Something about its explanation sticks in his head, though, and it takes him a long second to work it out, his thoughts still sticky and difficult. His breath hitches when he realises it, though, and his head snaps up to stare fearfully at the sub wall, like he can hear something the creature can't.]
"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing."
Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.
I've... only ever seen one at a time, but it... she speaks with all the v-voices... there c-could be more.
[He says, almost absently, still practically burning a hole through the sub wall with his wide-eyed gaze. A whisper sounds on the edge of his hearing, and real or imagined, he flinches, his heartrate skyrocketing again for a minute until it slows again.]
They all become one...
[His voice drops to a mumble, and oops - he zoned out again for a second, barely aware that he even said anything at all, snapping his attention back to the creature to stay aware instead of getting lost in the slimy, rusty walls of the SM-13. He can't see it shake from here, but he's always been good at reading body language, a necessity for a man like him, and he can tell its on edge, although he wouldn't have the first clue what to do about it. He stays quiet, instead, watching the silent proximity sensors for any flickering signs of an Eel.]
That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting.
When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.
[Simon doesn't look overly comforted or reassured, but it doesn't scare him too much, at least - he's still wary, but he also just looks confused.]
U-Uh. What?
[The words slip out of him on instinct, and it's only after he's said them that he realises he actually doesn't want to know why the creature is disconcertingly displaying its full rows of teeth at him, and that's when his breath catches again.]
"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting."
Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered.
"My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..."
It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.
You forget that you look like a fish and a person got stuck in a meat grinder?
[Simon grumbles, something uneasy flashing behind his eyes at the idea that the creature cares for his comfort, until he pales with panic, his own words slow to register to his logical brain.]
I-I mea- I'm s-sorry, I didn't- that's not what I- I'm sorry- please-
[He starts up a stammered apology almost against his will, his heart kicking back up and his eyes going wide, only for the creature's reaction to make him freeze. He hears that whisper again, barely-there, too distant or too unreal to decipher the words, and he chokes on his next breath, falling silent as the sudden movement of the sub makes him fall forward and stay there, on his hands and knees in the thin layer of blood that coats the sub floor.]
The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself.
"E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.
[He flinches at the word, but at least it's a movement, and it spurs him into motion, scrambling away from the direction the creature was looking before, shoving himself backwards until his back hits the control console beside where the creature sits, forcing a shaky gasp out of him as the hard metal makes contact with his bruises.]
P-Please-
[Simon hisses, and he's not even sure what he's asking for, his eyes hazy and distant as more whispers echo in his ears, laughter and taunting, incomprehensible words.]
The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us."
Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။."
Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.
[Simon doesn't seem to even register the creature's noises, but he makes a choked noise as the proximity sensors start to ping, tensing and bringing an arm up to grab the edge of the console like he's bracing for impact even as the rest of him hunches, as though just pulling his limbs in closer will help the sub fit. His breath shudders harshly in his chest, and his shoulders shake, all at once feeling claustrophobic as the sides of the sub nearly scrape the walls of the tunnel, not that he should really be able to know that, his mind blurry and slow as it is.]
L-Leave me alone, f-fuck-
[He mumbles weakly to no-one, to the air that's thick with his own panic, to the blood that stains his hands and the corpses that turn their glassy eyes on him even though he's alone in the sub. Or, maybe not alone, but he's not yet convinced that the creature isn't a stress-induced hallucination either.]
"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬."
It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong.
"You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."
[He jerks away from the touch, his head tossing wildly as just the small tap feels like a brand burning into his skin, and yep, he didn't process any of those words. He can barely hear anything anyway, under the rushing of blood in his ears and the screaming, fuck, why are they screaming? Don't they know it's no use? Don't they know the blood is inevitable, all-consuming, endless?]
Please...
[He whispers, hoarse, even though he knows it's fruitless. She's here. He was a fool to think he could run.]
The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun.
"Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now.
It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls.
It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.
[Simon knows that word too well, registers it even as the rest of his mind shies away from the reality around him, and for a moment his eyes clear and he watches the creature go, pained and angry and so, so tired, before the chaos of the voices and the pain and the claustrophobia and the please, please, I want to live, all crowd back in and send him reeling back into that place where nothing is real and all he can do is wait for the end, his hand clenched around the pendant hanging from his wrist, stolen piety that he still clings to like it will save him.]
P-Please, don't-
[He mutters, and he doesn't know if he's begging for his own life or for the creature's, but either way, it's probably useless.]
The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside.
It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.
[Simon screws his eyes shut and lets his mind unfocus as the voices scream at him, spitting epithets he doesn't understand, only the mocking tone really getting through to him, as it always does. He half-expects to hear his Brother's voice again, but then it fades, and time skips like a broken record, stuttering and glitching until the ocean outside is still and Simon blinks, completely unaware of how much time has passed. He cranes his neck up to look at the console, tilting his head to the side slightly as his vacant gaze traces the phantom outline of a being there, and his breath hitches as the likelihood of it being another trick swamps him. He'd barely let himself hope at all, a tiny spark of nothing, and yet it still hurts to have it ripped away again.]
Fuck.
[He mutters, his voice hoarse and wet as he buries his face in bloodied hands and tries to steady his breathing, each ragged draw of air making his cracked ribs scream.]
Or is immediately freaked out by the sudden transformation of Simon’s arms. It passes him some bandages. Other than that it has no idea how to help.
Please don’t die please don’t die-
- @l1l-l1ght
[Simon takes the bandages, but instead of just wrapping his arms like a normal person, he uses the fabric to mop up the pus-plasma-blood mixture that's slowly drying on his face - he's used to the blood by now, but something about the sour smell of that substance so close to his nose is more sickening than the constant stench of iron, and he wants it off. He's not sure what to actually do about Or's upset though, especially since he can still feel his own panic roiling underneath a thick barrier of hazy dullness, his hands still shaking furiously and his breath harsh in his chest.]
Not fuckin' going anywhere yet, chill out.
[He mutters awkwardly, fiddling with the now-soiled bandages in his grip, his voice low and hoarser still, now, from the alcohol.]
Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.
[Simon says flatly after a moment, not angrily, just even and tired. He can feel the thing's gaze on him like a brand, and it burns into his irritated, bloody skin, making him feel weirdly itchy.]
[The eye doesn't exactly escape his notice, but Simon doesn't bother to question it, numb to the weirdness. He watches them flinch, re-runs his own words in his head, has a whole minor argument with himself that's barely comprehensible even to him, and then sighs, roughly.]
I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... yeah. You're- you don't have to say shit.
No, it- it’s okay… I’m just bothering you… I took so much already, and now I’m even taking up space…
Or takes some shaky breaths. Its eye remains closed. It doesn’t want to hurt Simon. A shimmering liquid drips from its eye. It’s so bright that it hurts to look at. It catches the liquid in its hands and presses them together, solidifying the object. It holds out its hands and gives Simon…
A star. It just cried and made a star.
You’re having trouble thinking clearly, right? This… might hurt a bit, but if you touch it, it should make it a little easier to make sense of your thoughts…
[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.]
Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems...
[He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.]
I-I ended up like this. So...
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Something knocks on the sub. It's quiet at first, almost tentative, but then it gets a little louder.
"Is someone in there?" a wavering voice calls from outside. It crackles through the speakers at the same time as it carries through the blood, somehow. "I can see a skeleton, but are you alive?"
[Simon startles, woken from whatever half-asleep, half-zoned out doze he'd slipped into, almost falling sideways with the force of his flinch from where he sits on the floor of the sub, leaned against the wall. For a moment, he can hear the fading strains of a Brother's voice - 'again, Butcher? Look at you, getting jumpy' - before it's drowned out by the one outside, and he takes a shuddering breath, burying his face in his bloodstained hands.]
Please... I'm so tired, please j-just- just stop fucking with me. You're not real!
[He sobs, strained, and before, it would have physically pained him to beg like that, but he's telling the truth. He's tired.]
"No, no, no. I am real. I must be."
The thing sounds a little frantic. The proximity sensors go off sequentially as it circles the sub once, twice. It must be relatively small, considering how little turbulence it creates.
"I am sorry for scaring you. Are you- You sound so hurt. Can I help?"
[Simon looks up to track the movement of the creature with the sensors, and he frowns slightly, seeing how much smaller it must be, compared to the Eel.]
Wh- What do you want?
[He mutters, his voice cracking, and his hands come down to wrap around himself like he's preparing for the walls of the sub to cave in any moment, his whole body tense and curled up in a ball smaller than a man of his size should be able to achieve.]
You c-can't help me. No-one- I can't- p-please, just- please. I can't do this anymore.
It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible.
"I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore."
It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh.
"I have hurt you. I should leave."
[He flinches again at the noise so close to his head, scrambling back from the wall with a sharp breath.]
Y-You don't- what?
[He mutters, shaking his head slightly, despite the way it makes the whole room spin. He'd love nothing more than for the Eel to leave him alone, but then the voice sounds almost contrite, and suddenly there's this gut-wrenching fear that feels like someone grabbed his intestines and yanked hard. The Eel would never offer to leave him alone, when it found him. It would simply taunt and taunt until he found the energy to run, or until his mind slipped away from him, and when he came back, it would be gone.]
"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again."
Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking.
"I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."
[Simon sounds genuinely confused, the concussion and the exhaustion making his thoughts slow and sluggish. He gets a little of it, though, and his shoulders visibly slump when it says it's not with the Eel.]
I-If you're not... Her, then... what the fuck are you? H-How are you- w-why are you down here? Why... why t-talk to me?
"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?"
It pauses to collect its thoughts.
"I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."
[He murmurs, his voice hoarse, but he falls silent again, letting the silence stretch for a while after it finishes.]
You were... fuuuuck.
[Simon runs his hands down his face, shuddering slightly as his palms catch on the ridge across his nose that he knows wasn't there before but that he's choosing not to think about, for his own sanity. He still sounds painfully confused.]
I... b-but you're... alive? You're n-not part of...? Fuckin'- th-this is so... shit. I-I don't...
"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it."
It sighs again.
"What about you? How did you come here?"
[The words almost fall out of his mouth in reply, immediate, instinctive, like it's the most important part he can think of.]
I... I didn't w-want to be here, I-I didn't-
It wasn't supposed to happen. But they- they don't care about th-that.
...They s-said it was just- just some fucking pictures, and then I w-was free. And then it was the s-sample, too, and then I'd b-be free. A-And- and th-then they fucking cut me off, and I- I was never gonna- they, they sent me down h-here and they knew I would d-die and- and they never even asked me if I did it! I d-didn't, I didn't want this, it w-wasn't supposed to...
[His words are disjointed, his tone rapidly oscillating between quiet and strained like he's on the verge of tears and loudly, blisteringly angry. He doesn't sound very stable, but he's desperate, desperate for something to just listen when he says he didn't mean to.]
"I understand."
The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows.
"I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."
[He murmurs, quiet again and still teary, but there's something else in his voice too, almost awed. His left hand slowly comes up to bring the pendant still wrapped tightly around his wrist into the palm of his right, and the thumbs the cracked glass with infinite gentleness, at odds with his coarseness.]
Th-They- y-yeah, the, the convict p-program, thing... I knew there w-were others, b-but... you really...?
It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action.
"Yes."
Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom?
Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera.
The cycle must end.
"I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."
[He's sounded on the edge of it this whole time, but Simon does sob at that, a cracked, choked-down little noise that makes his shoulders shake. He's so tired of having freedom dangled over his head, like a dog being taunted with a bone just out of reach.]
I c-can't- you can't, it won't, it n-never- she won't let me leave, please, s-stop fucking w-with me, god fucking-
[Simon growls, then, slamming his fist down on the iron floor, making the blood that coats it splash up his arm. His head tilts almost lazily back, and he stares at the blurry scrawls on the wall above him, nonsensical scribbled words and circles upon circles of tunnels in impossible formations - his map, if it can even be considered that.]
I d-don't wanna die, b-but this is worse. I-I can't... I can't take any more, please, Father, I'm tired...
[He whispers, mostly to himself, disregarding the creature outside, if it really is a creature and not just the Eel, still, taunting him endlessly with false hopes.]
Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks.
It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side.
Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair.
"Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.
[If he had any more of his pride left, Simon would deny the help he let out in that moment, flinching away and trying to scramble to his feet, only for the room to tilt sickeningly in his vision and send him crashing to the floor again. His eyes are wide and terrified, and he holds up a blood-soaked hand in a pathetic attempt to defend himself, watching the creature in blank shock.]
Wh-What- I- p-please-
[He says, weakly, like it'll do anything. His ears ring from the sudden movements, his head spinning, and he fancies that he can almost hear a Brother's mocking laugh on the edges of his awareness, a sound that makes him sick to his stomach.]
"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm."
The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".
[Simon's breathing is harsh and quick, rattling in his chest, but as he watches the creature struggle, it slows somewhat, the shock of seeing something so terrifying somewhat ruined by its inability to stay upright. He slowly lowers his hand, shifting to sit up properly, then forward onto his knees, and he scans over the creature warily, like he's expecting a trick.]
I-I- are- uh. Are you...
[He starts, but he can't quite force the word 'okay' out of his mouth, swallowing thickly instead, and balling his hands into fists so he doesn't have to see them tremble.]
"Mhm."
More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult.
"Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"
[It's more than a little horrifying, this bloodied, mutated, eel-like creature, but Simon didn't become the Butcher by panicking at every scary thing he saw, and at least the thing's not attacking. So he steels himself, taking a sharp breath and drawing himself upright as much as he can when he's still stuck on his knees for fear of keeling over, and he slowly nods. Just the breath makes his cracked ribs burn, and he can taste iron in his mouth, but he's doing his best, at least.]
Fuckin'- do I l-look okay?
[He growls, gesturing at the blood-slick walls of the sub and everything that entails, and that's not what he meant to say at all, but instinct has kicked in and made him prickly. It's hard to seem truly intimidating, though, when his anger is a very obvious thin veil over a much deeper tone of exhaustion, and he sways slightly with every breath, the room tilting around him.]
It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others.
"You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."
[Simon stares blankly at the creature, like he's not convinced he's not just hallucinating still, and the odd urge to laugh bubbles up in him. His breath hitches, but the only noise that comes out is a wet crackle from his lungs, and he manages to slowly shake his head, slumping down until his ass is against his heels and he's two seconds from falling forward onto his hands.]
Please.
[He says quietly, his head hanging low as though in supplication, although truthfully he's just too tired to keep it up. Again, it's not what he meant to say - he meant to snap, to remind the creature of how long he's been down here, of the tunnels that twist impossibly, of the Eel that bars his way and sends him further down - but instead he just sobs. He's so tired. If the creature wants to waste its time on the dying Butcher, he'll let it - never have it be said that Simon isn't a selfish man.]
"Yes, yes! Free the human!"
Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down.
"Why did I think I would still be able to read."
[Simon slides back onto his butt, curling back up into that same position from before, thighs held to his chest by his arms, shoulders hunched, his chin resting atop his knees, and he watches the creature somewhat distantly. The meagre overhead light glints off of his mismatched pupils and makes him wince, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the thing that's trying to free him. Trying being the important word, there, because it stumbles at the first hurdle, and Simon scrubs at his face with a hand for a second before he speaks up.]
Y'don't need that shit. I didn't read it. It's just... lever's go, handle's turn.
"Oh."
It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.
[If he's being honest with himself, Simon would much rather go back to that in-between place in his head, where nothing really feels real and he can pretend that he doesn't care about dying, but instead he finds himself annoyingly aware, still watching the creature, both admiring how quickly it picked up the controls and making disparaging mental comparisons to his own piloting ability.]
C-Can you... can you see...?
[He asks suddenly, another string of words that tumble out of his mouth against his will.]
"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything."
It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.
[Simon grunts an acknowledgement as he processes that answer, looking grimly thoughtful for a long moment before the creature trills and it makes him jump, his heartbeat and breathing spiking for a second before they settle.]
The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself.
"We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."
[He frowns, nodding slowly, his shoulders slumping a little as the sounds quiet down again. Something about its explanation sticks in his head, though, and it takes him a long second to work it out, his thoughts still sticky and difficult. His breath hitches when he realises it, though, and his head snaps up to stare fearfully at the sub wall, like he can hear something the creature can't.]
"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing."
Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.
I've... only ever seen one at a time, but it... she speaks with all the v-voices... there c-could be more.
[He says, almost absently, still practically burning a hole through the sub wall with his wide-eyed gaze. A whisper sounds on the edge of his hearing, and real or imagined, he flinches, his heartrate skyrocketing again for a minute until it slows again.]
They all become one...
[His voice drops to a mumble, and oops - he zoned out again for a second, barely aware that he even said anything at all, snapping his attention back to the creature to stay aware instead of getting lost in the slimy, rusty walls of the SM-13. He can't see it shake from here, but he's always been good at reading body language, a necessity for a man like him, and he can tell its on edge, although he wouldn't have the first clue what to do about it. He stays quiet, instead, watching the silent proximity sensors for any flickering signs of an Eel.]
That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting.
When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.
[Simon doesn't look overly comforted or reassured, but it doesn't scare him too much, at least - he's still wary, but he also just looks confused.]
U-Uh. What?
[The words slip out of him on instinct, and it's only after he's said them that he realises he actually doesn't want to know why the creature is disconcertingly displaying its full rows of teeth at him, and that's when his breath catches again.]
"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting."
Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered.
"My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..."
It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.
You forget that you look like a fish and a person got stuck in a meat grinder?
[Simon grumbles, something uneasy flashing behind his eyes at the idea that the creature cares for his comfort, until he pales with panic, his own words slow to register to his logical brain.]
I-I mea- I'm s-sorry, I didn't- that's not what I- I'm sorry- please-
[He starts up a stammered apology almost against his will, his heart kicking back up and his eyes going wide, only for the creature's reaction to make him freeze. He hears that whisper again, barely-there, too distant or too unreal to decipher the words, and he chokes on his next breath, falling silent as the sudden movement of the sub makes him fall forward and stay there, on his hands and knees in the thin layer of blood that coats the sub floor.]
The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself.
"E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.
[He flinches at the word, but at least it's a movement, and it spurs him into motion, scrambling away from the direction the creature was looking before, shoving himself backwards until his back hits the control console beside where the creature sits, forcing a shaky gasp out of him as the hard metal makes contact with his bruises.]
P-Please-
[Simon hisses, and he's not even sure what he's asking for, his eyes hazy and distant as more whispers echo in his ears, laughter and taunting, incomprehensible words.]
The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us."
Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။."
Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.
[Simon doesn't seem to even register the creature's noises, but he makes a choked noise as the proximity sensors start to ping, tensing and bringing an arm up to grab the edge of the console like he's bracing for impact even as the rest of him hunches, as though just pulling his limbs in closer will help the sub fit. His breath shudders harshly in his chest, and his shoulders shake, all at once feeling claustrophobic as the sides of the sub nearly scrape the walls of the tunnel, not that he should really be able to know that, his mind blurry and slow as it is.]
L-Leave me alone, f-fuck-
[He mumbles weakly to no-one, to the air that's thick with his own panic, to the blood that stains his hands and the corpses that turn their glassy eyes on him even though he's alone in the sub. Or, maybe not alone, but he's not yet convinced that the creature isn't a stress-induced hallucination either.]
"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬."
It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong.
"You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."
[He jerks away from the touch, his head tossing wildly as just the small tap feels like a brand burning into his skin, and yep, he didn't process any of those words. He can barely hear anything anyway, under the rushing of blood in his ears and the screaming, fuck, why are they screaming? Don't they know it's no use? Don't they know the blood is inevitable, all-consuming, endless?]
Please...
[He whispers, hoarse, even though he knows it's fruitless. She's here. He was a fool to think he could run.]
The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun.
"Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now.
It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls.
It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.
[Simon knows that word too well, registers it even as the rest of his mind shies away from the reality around him, and for a moment his eyes clear and he watches the creature go, pained and angry and so, so tired, before the chaos of the voices and the pain and the claustrophobia and the please, please, I want to live, all crowd back in and send him reeling back into that place where nothing is real and all he can do is wait for the end, his hand clenched around the pendant hanging from his wrist, stolen piety that he still clings to like it will save him.]
P-Please, don't-
[He mutters, and he doesn't know if he's begging for his own life or for the creature's, but either way, it's probably useless.]
[Simon can't help but just look blankly at the masses of his own face that stare back at him, shaking his head slightly at the sudden change, mumbling almost incomprehensibly. Another hallucination, he assumes, and lets himself sit, curling back into a ball with his knees to his chest as he watches absently, his gaze dull and unseeing as he trembles.]
Simon took in all his other selves. Having the advantage of already kinda knowing about the multiverse, he adapted quicker to the change. Not that he was unaffected.
He noticed the other version of himself curled up with that look and… well. Simon made his way over, kneeling down gently.
“Hey. You, uh, okay?” He asked weakly, mentally face palming. Of course they weren’t. Stupid question.
Obviously he probably wasn’t the best Simon to be doing this, with all his… fish features, but everybody else still looked shaken up so he’d have to do. This was bigger than him and all that shit.
[Simon twitches, but when his eyes slide over, there's no recognition in his gaze, just blankly responding to the sound and not the words as he stares straight through the other version of him, barely even processing the half-fish situation. It's not real, he tells himself distantly, like that'll make the hallucinations go away. It's never worked before, but he still repeats it over and over, and he doesn't even realise he's still mumbling quietly.]
Simon gritted his teeth, sucking in a breath. This felt nostalgic in the worst way. He could see why this would all look like a hallucination, definitely hit all the boxes for some of his own worse ones.
How does somebody go about convincing someone that they aren’t hallucinating? Nobody ever broke him out of his spiraling so not much to go off of there. Does he leave this Simon alone? No. Being alone was like being in that fucking death trap all over again.
Sometimes, back on Eden when one of the caretakers worked themselves up too much about the trees health, someone else would put a hand on their shoulder. Could something like that work here? He ran the risk of getting attacked of course, but not much could really hurt him.
So Simon put his clawed hand on top of the others head, patting. “Hey. Your name is Simon. You’re real. I’m real. This is real.” He whispered, remembering how he himself had yelled at Ava about his name back on the sm-13. That had helped, right?
[He goes rigid underneath the touch, his eyes snapping up to actually look at the other Simon, although they're still glassy and distant, streaks of red rippling in the brown like they're blood oceans all of their own as Simon slowly processes the fact that this hallucination is touching him. He must be really round the bend, now, because they've never done that before. His head aches, the burning sensation of the other's palm not soothing the throbbing pain any, and despite years of ingrained, automatic defense, it takes him a long, long moment to actively realise that real or not, he's being touched, and that's never a good thing.]
Please-!
[He finds himself saying, pathetic, as he jerks backwards, abruptly aware and panicked and sharp in a way he wasn't a second ago, and his elbow slams harshly into the floor as his other arm comes up to shield his face as the room spins - a weak defence, but it's all he has. His Brother's pendant swings in front of him as he braces for a blow, his mangled forearm on full display, a drip of blood running down his hand from the bubbling, raw wound.]
Simon flinched back at the sudden movement purely on instinct, tail slapping dully against the ground, and felt like a moron for it. Obviously that wasn’t gonna go over well. What was he thinking?
Good news, the guy seemed more aware? Bad news was that he definitely scared the shit out of him. What does he do? Fuck. Simon held his hands up, fingers curled a little.
“I- um- I’m not gonna hurt you. Except of course you won’t believe me, I wouldn’t either.” He managed out. There was something to be said about digging holes here.
He moved back, sitting crisscrossed about a foot or two away from the other Simon. Close enough to not feel isolated again while far enough to not be an immediate threat. At least that’s what he’d think. Simon kept his hands visible and relaxed. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s what threatening people look like. So if he does the opposite of that then it’s probably good.
[Simon jolts as the other-him speaks, watching him sit down with wide eyes, and while he doesn't look any less on edge, his arm lowers a few centimeters, like he's no longer immediately expecting an attack.]
Wh- w-what do you want?!
[He hisses harshly after a moment of almost-stunned silence, the words not running through a filter before coming straight out of his mouth, and that's clear from the way his voice breaks and he tenses preemptively, the hand not held up in front of him curling into a fist as he awaits retaliation. His tone is sharp and angry and rough, but it's hard to seem intimidating when his voice is so hoarse and tired underneath. Fuck, he's so tired. He just wants this to be over.]
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