Universe Unspooled

#FICKLEFABLES — independent, selective multifandom multimuse feat. a selection of hellaverse, epic the musical, and assorted other muses. multiverse, multiship, oc-friendly. 21+, minors dni. established february 2024, penned by sai (they/them).

AFFILIATES: amischiefofmuses, bloodthriived / amazesonged, rxgnofiglia, witchoflegends, onlyheartaches.

HIGH ENERGY MUSES: simon, abel, anya, aeolus, kinger.

OTHER LINKS: rules • muses & activity • relationships • in-house connections • perma starter call • memes • credit

emerging from the tank is a chore, but this is something they have to do. it is wired into their very dna now, each cell that makes them up-recycled from old lives to make something new -insists this has to be done.

their gills flare open wide, vein like appendages throbbing at the loss of the very thing that makes it possible them to breath. spiny fins flare, stretch towards the ceiling. they pull themselves forward bit by bit with their hands, talons digging into the floor below.

this is agony. suffocating and strenuous in a way they haven't encountered before. but they make it to si-pai's room (or at least they think it's his room) and drag their claws down the door. they can't knock from where they are partially prone, frail chest heaving.

they wait for it to open and grin with their many teeth, slipping their gift out from under their elbow and up like a sacred offering.

it is a tree with gnarled branches made of xenonite.

A nap would help. Or... at least it wouldn't hurt. It'd give Simon a chance to wind down, do some thinking while he tried to pass out, and get in a little reset before trying to deal with this shit. Or not deal with this shit. He hasn't decided how cooperative he's going to be even in spite of his talk with his sister. Avoiding hostility and criticism is entirely different from greeting the situation with open arms.

But he does pass out eventually, curled up tight, and that's enough for now. He's out for a reasonable amount of time, too, before he wakes up in a heart-racing panic and shoots straight up in bed. Disoriented, sleep-bleary vision, vibrating panic with no clear cause—but there is clear cause. It just takes him a second of forcing deep breaths and slow exhales before he keys into it: that unidentifiable, ominous sound trending down the hall. And eventually scraping menacingly down his door. But even before he quite knows what it is, he sure as hell knows what he can blame it on. He wasn't waking up to hell-sounds before that thing was rescued.

Somehow, that realization doesn't make him any more prepared to deal with the reality that stopped just outside his door. He still screams just as loud as he would have if he hadn't connected the dots.

"YOU S—RYLAND, GOD DAMMIT!" His heart might explode, and while the door between them doesn't qualify as much protection, it's still... something. He's white-knuckling the door knob, half-stood behind the door—he has to stop himself quite abruptly from slamming it right in their face, and he only manages to do so when he really takes notice of the apparent offering in their hand. A... hand. Gross hand. A... branch?

His brow furrows, and though he doesn't move a muscle beyond that just yet, his gaze might still soften just a little. Tree. Much to his chagrin, it's not just his gaze that softens with that realization; his heart may still be racing, but he still catches that stupid touch of endearment, somehow. Damn.

... He's exceedingly hesitant, but... nonetheless, Simon does suck in a breath and carefully accept the offering. Seems like they hadn't been kidding about the friendship gifts.

"Uh... tree, right? S'nice. You... made this yourself?" Probably? Idiot. It is nice for what it is. Okay. He doesn't really know what to do with it, but, more importantly, this grinning creature probably shouldn't be here right now. And not just for the sake of his comfort.

"... Thanks. But... you're... probably pretty miserable out here, huh? You don't look so hot. I don't recommend getting yourself killed in the effort of giving out gifts." That's not fair. Nor is the fact that he feels obligated to help the poor thing—he hadn't decided if he wanted to cooperate yet. "... You... I, uh..." Dumb.

He deflates almost immediately.

"... I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm not—I'm not upset with you, I just..."

"I know." Anya pats the seat beside her invitingly, and Simon cautiously takes the invitation, shuffling over to sit at her side without complaint. "You're scared. You feel like you finally found someplace safe where you don't have to live in terror, and... you feel like their presence is threatening that safe place and the people you care about. And maybe you also feel like you're not being listened to when you try, in your own non-way, to say that's how you're feeling."

Despite the way his brow furrows, he stays quiet, and that's all the confirmation Anya needs in the moment. If she even needed any to begin with.

"That's a lot to deal with. And I think that also makes it hard for you to realize that you're not... entirely right, either." Simon whips his head to look at her, feeling similarly betrayed, but... he also deflates, again, when he catches how stiff she gets, almost like she's bracing for something. He shifts his actual hand over to take hers, and she squeezes it in return.

"... I don't know the good doctor-captain as well as you do, but I'd like to think that he wouldn't bring back something he, or Rocky, thought had the potential to be dangerous. I... do think it was a little inconsiderate, but I don't think it was malicious. Their hearts are big, but they're not stupid. And I think—."

"They just wanted to do the right thing. They saw someone in need, that someone initially proved to be relatively harmless, and… Grace probably figured that they'd figure out the rest later." It's his turn to return the squeeze, and he heaves a sigh. "... I think they're stupid."

Anya hums soft amusement. "But not untrustworthy; that's the important part. Do they seem relatively harmless to you? The creature?"

"... I don't... like the connection they seem to have to other things," he won't elaborate, "but they offered to make me friendship gifts. So... I don't know. It's either some fucked up psychological warfare, or I'm just catastrophizing. He did say he'd move that thing out of sight for me, at least. I guess that'll help. And it hasn't done anything yet, either."

"You're allowed to be upset and uncomfortable; I don't think anybody can fault you for that. But I think you also should consider being a little more trusting—even if it's only of Grace and his judgement for now. He's earned that much from you, don't you think?"