Can I Be Seth?

….

“…hello? Mister? Are you there?”

@knife-fan

[*The study is quiet. There’s nobody in here, of course. other than you. there shouldn’t be.]

[*Or, was that a rustling of papers in the corner?]

[*A trembling pen?]

[*Nothing has moved. everything is the same as when you walked into the room.]

[*Or is it?]

(Aqua pouted slightly, not out of frustration, but out of paranoia. Maybe she could do something to talk to him?)

(It was then she recalled the pen in her pocket. She took it out, grabbed one of Seth’s papers, and started writing on it, getting help from the cipher on the wall.)

“…uuu… I-is this ok?”

[*Slowly, a message appeared below where it was—where it had been just moments ago.]

[*The ink is hot,

“☟︎☜︎☹︎☹︎⚐︎📬︎

:)”.]

(Right under the message, she wrote out something else.)

✌︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎☜︎❄︎☟︎✍︎

[*And then another message! As your writing disappears, ink scrawls itself into place below to form it’s invitation,

“✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

👎︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👌︎☜︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎💧︎

✌︎💧︎ 🕈︎☜︎☹︎☹︎✍︎”.]

[*The paper is colder.]

(Once again, Aqua wrote down her answer on the paper, finding she had to look up at the cipher less and less as the symbols became more legible for her.)

[*Replacing the previous statement, the ink once more takes form.

“💣︎✡︎ 💧︎☜︎👍︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎ ☞︎✌︎✞︎⚐︎☼︎✋︎❄︎☜︎ ☟︎⚐︎👌︎👌︎✡︎

✋︎💧︎ ☝︎✌︎☼︎👎︎☜︎☠︎✋︎☠︎☝︎📬︎

🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎ ✌︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ 💣︎☜︎📪︎

☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎✍︎

🕈︎☜︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎☹︎☜︎👍︎❄︎

✋︎☠︎☝︎☼︎☜︎👎︎✋︎☜︎☠︎❄︎💧︎📬︎”]

✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎☠︎💧︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎ 💣︎🕆︎👍︎☟︎ ☞︎🕆︎☠︎📬︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎✍︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☝︎⚐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎✡︎ ☟︎⚐︎❄︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎ ✌︎☝︎✌︎✋︎☠︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ❄︎☜︎☹︎☹︎ 💣︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎⚐︎✍︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☝︎✌︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎ ✋︎❄︎📬︎” it says, inked words making its way onto the paper.]

[*It continued,

“☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ 👎︎⚐︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎✍︎

👌︎🕆︎❄︎,

❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎🕈︎⚐︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 🏱︎✋︎☠︎😐︎✡︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎💧︎☜︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👍︎☟︎☜︎✌︎❄︎

⚐︎😐︎✍︎”.]

[*How fun! How joyous. Group gardening is always a wonderful bonding experience.]

[*It awaits your response.]

(Hastily, she wrote back.)

❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎💧︎ ☝︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎✋︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎✏︎ ✋︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎💧︎☜︎ ✋︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☠︎❄︎ 👍︎☟︎☜︎✌︎❄︎✏︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ❄︎🕈︎⚐︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎✍︎

[*Smiled? Notepads can’t smile. Perhaps it was the pen, then? Or the ink inside? No matter—your penpal had smiled back.]

[*”🕈︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎☜︎☼︎☞︎🕆︎☹︎✏︎” It read, smiling upon you.]

[*The text disappeared, like water drying in the sun, before continuing,

“✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎☹︎☜︎👍︎❄︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☼︎✡︎❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✋︎ ✋︎☠︎💧︎❄︎☼︎🕆︎👍︎❄︎📬︎

✋︎❄︎ ✋︎💧︎ 💧︎✋︎💣︎✋︎☹︎✌︎☼︎ ❄︎⚐︎

✌︎ 💧︎✋︎💣︎⚐︎☠︎ 💧︎✌︎✡︎💧︎ 💧︎👍︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☠︎☝︎☜︎☼︎

☟︎🕆︎☠︎❄︎📬︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ ☠︎☜︎✞︎☜︎☼︎ ❄︎☜︎☹︎☹︎ ✌︎☠︎✡︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎ ☜︎☹︎💧︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎✡︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ⚐︎☼︎ ✋︎❄︎💧︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

✋︎❄︎ 🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ☼︎🕆︎✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎🕆︎☼︎🏱︎☼︎✋︎💧︎☜︎

👎︎☜︎✌︎☼︎ 🏱︎☜︎☠︎🏱︎✌︎☹︎

⚐︎☞︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎✋︎☠︎☝︎✏︎

👎︎⚐︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎✌︎😐︎☜︎ 💧︎☜︎☠︎💧︎☜︎✍︎”.]

[*The ink is starting to run out near the end. He sure wrote a lot.]

(After flapping her sleeves a bit, she picked up the pen and hastily wrote down a reply, her smile only growing as her penpal told her about the game.)

✡︎☜︎💧︎✏︎ ✋︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎💧︎ 💧︎⚐︎ ☞︎🕆︎☠︎📪︎ ✌︎ 💧︎☜︎👍︎☼︎☜︎❄︎ 💧︎👍︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☠︎☝︎☜︎☼︎ ☟︎🕆︎☠︎❄︎✏︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ 🕈︎✌︎✋︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎✏︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ✋︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ☞︎✋︎☼︎💧︎❄︎✍︎

[*Once the text is again removed, it flows as if the pen was full, explaining your first clue—

“❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☞︎✋︎☼︎💧︎❄︎ 💧︎✋︎💣︎🏱︎☹︎☜︎ ✋︎❄︎☜︎💣︎

⚐︎☠︎ ⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎☠︎❄︎📫︎👌︎✌︎💧︎☜︎👎︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎👍︎☜︎☼︎✡︎ ☹︎✋︎💧︎❄︎🖴︎

✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ ☞︎✌︎☹︎☹︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 💧︎❄︎✌︎☠︎👎︎

✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ 👌︎☜︎☠︎👎︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ☞︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎

🕈︎☟︎☜︎☠︎ ✋︎ ✌︎💣︎ 🕆︎💧︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👍︎⚐︎💣︎💣︎🕆︎☠︎✋︎👍︎✌︎❄︎☜︎

✋︎ 💧︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎💧︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎📬︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎✌︎✡︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎ ☪︎☜︎☼︎⚐︎

❄︎⚐︎ 💧︎☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ ☜︎💣︎🏱︎❄︎✡︎ 💧︎☹︎✌︎❄︎☜︎

👌︎🕆︎❄︎ 💣︎✌︎☠︎✡︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎☜︎👎︎

✋︎☞︎ ✌︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎👎︎ 🕈︎☜︎ 💧︎☟︎✌︎☹︎☹︎ 💣︎✌︎😐︎☜︎📬︎”.]

[*Small, at the bottom it continues. It’s hard to make out as the ink starts to run dry down here.]

“🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ ❄︎☼︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎📪︎

☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎

(She quickly looked around, grabbing one of Seth’s spare notebooks before carefully tearing out some of the pages, hoping they wouldn’t care too much to find them missing.)

(She walked back to the paper from before, putting the spare pages to the side, before once again writing on the paper.)

“…hello? Mister? Are you there?”

@knife-fan

[*The study is quiet. There’s nobody in here, of course. other than you. there shouldn’t be.]

[*Or, was that a rustling of papers in the corner?]

[*A trembling pen?]

[*Nothing has moved. everything is the same as when you walked into the room.]

[*Or is it?]

(Aqua pouted slightly, not out of frustration, but out of paranoia. Maybe she could do something to talk to him?)

(It was then she recalled the pen in her pocket. She took it out, grabbed one of Seth’s papers, and started writing on it, getting help from the cipher on the wall.)

“…uuu… I-is this ok?”

[*Slowly, a message appeared below where it was—where it had been just moments ago.]

[*The ink is hot,

“☟︎☜︎☹︎☹︎⚐︎📬︎

:)”.]

(Right under the message, she wrote out something else.)

✌︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎☜︎❄︎☟︎✍︎

[*And then another message! As your writing disappears, ink scrawls itself into place below to form it’s invitation,

“✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

👎︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👌︎☜︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎💧︎

✌︎💧︎ 🕈︎☜︎☹︎☹︎✍︎”.]

[*The paper is colder.]

(Once again, Aqua wrote down her answer on the paper, finding she had to look up at the cipher less and less as the symbols became more legible for her.)

[*Replacing the previous statement, the ink once more takes form.

“💣︎✡︎ 💧︎☜︎👍︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎ ☞︎✌︎✞︎⚐︎☼︎✋︎❄︎☜︎ ☟︎⚐︎👌︎👌︎✡︎

✋︎💧︎ ☝︎✌︎☼︎👎︎☜︎☠︎✋︎☠︎☝︎📬︎

🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎ ✌︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ 💣︎☜︎📪︎

☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎✍︎

🕈︎☜︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎☹︎☜︎👍︎❄︎

✋︎☠︎☝︎☼︎☜︎👎︎✋︎☜︎☠︎❄︎💧︎📬︎”]

✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎☠︎💧︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎ 💣︎🕆︎👍︎☟︎ ☞︎🕆︎☠︎📬︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎✍︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☝︎⚐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎✡︎ ☟︎⚐︎❄︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎ ✌︎☝︎✌︎✋︎☠︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ❄︎☜︎☹︎☹︎ 💣︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎⚐︎✍︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☝︎✌︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎ ✋︎❄︎📬︎” it says, inked words making its way onto the paper.]

[*It continued,

“☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ 👎︎⚐︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎✍︎

👌︎🕆︎❄︎,

❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎🕈︎⚐︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 🏱︎✋︎☠︎😐︎✡︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎💧︎☜︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👍︎☟︎☜︎✌︎❄︎

⚐︎😐︎✍︎”.]

[*How fun! How joyous. Group gardening is always a wonderful bonding experience.]

[*It awaits your response.]

(Hastily, she wrote back.)

❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎💧︎ ☝︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎✋︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎✏︎ ✋︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎💧︎☜︎ ✋︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☠︎❄︎ 👍︎☟︎☜︎✌︎❄︎✏︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ❄︎🕈︎⚐︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎✍︎

[*Smiled? Notepads can’t smile. Perhaps it was the pen, then? Or the ink inside? No matter—your penpal had smiled back.]

[*”🕈︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎☜︎☼︎☞︎🕆︎☹︎✏︎” It read, smiling upon you.]

[*The text disappeared, like water drying in the sun, before continuing,

“✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎☹︎☜︎👍︎❄︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☼︎✡︎❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✋︎ ✋︎☠︎💧︎❄︎☼︎🕆︎👍︎❄︎📬︎

✋︎❄︎ ✋︎💧︎ 💧︎✋︎💣︎✋︎☹︎✌︎☼︎ ❄︎⚐︎

✌︎ 💧︎✋︎💣︎⚐︎☠︎ 💧︎✌︎✡︎💧︎ 💧︎👍︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☠︎☝︎☜︎☼︎

☟︎🕆︎☠︎❄︎📬︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ ☠︎☜︎✞︎☜︎☼︎ ❄︎☜︎☹︎☹︎ ✌︎☠︎✡︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎ ☜︎☹︎💧︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎✡︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ⚐︎☼︎ ✋︎❄︎💧︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

✋︎❄︎ 🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ☼︎🕆︎✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎🕆︎☼︎🏱︎☼︎✋︎💧︎☜︎

👎︎☜︎✌︎☼︎ 🏱︎☜︎☠︎🏱︎✌︎☹︎

⚐︎☞︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎✋︎☠︎☝︎✏︎

👎︎⚐︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎✌︎😐︎☜︎ 💧︎☜︎☠︎💧︎☜︎✍︎”.]

[*The ink is starting to run out near the end. He sure wrote a lot.]

(After flapping her sleeves a bit, she picked up the pen and hastily wrote down a reply, her smile only growing as her penpal told her about the game.)

✡︎☜︎💧︎✏︎ ✋︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎💧︎ 💧︎⚐︎ ☞︎🕆︎☠︎📪︎ ✌︎ 💧︎☜︎👍︎☼︎☜︎❄︎ 💧︎👍︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☠︎☝︎☜︎☼︎ ☟︎🕆︎☠︎❄︎✏︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ 🕈︎✌︎✋︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎✏︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ✋︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ☞︎✋︎☼︎💧︎❄︎✍︎

That’s probably why our blogs work so well together! Though I am trying to project a younger me for Aqua, who was both unmedicated and unregulated, capturing the innocent, and hyper yet cautious Aqua I try to put forward!

“…hello? Mister? Are you there?”

@knife-fan

[*The study is quiet. There’s nobody in here, of course. other than you. there shouldn’t be.]

[*Or, was that a rustling of papers in the corner?]

[*A trembling pen?]

[*Nothing has moved. everything is the same as when you walked into the room.]

[*Or is it?]

(Aqua pouted slightly, not out of frustration, but out of paranoia. Maybe she could do something to talk to him?)

(It was then she recalled the pen in her pocket. She took it out, grabbed one of Seth’s papers, and started writing on it, getting help from the cipher on the wall.)

“…uuu… I-is this ok?”

[*Slowly, a message appeared below where it was—where it had been just moments ago.]

[*The ink is hot,

“☟︎☜︎☹︎☹︎⚐︎📬︎

:)”.]

(Right under the message, she wrote out something else.)

✌︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎☜︎❄︎☟︎✍︎

[*And then another message! As your writing disappears, ink scrawls itself into place below to form it’s invitation,

“✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

👎︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👌︎☜︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎💧︎

✌︎💧︎ 🕈︎☜︎☹︎☹︎✍︎”.]

[*The paper is colder.]

(Once again, Aqua wrote down her answer on the paper, finding she had to look up at the cipher less and less as the symbols became more legible for her.)

[*Replacing the previous statement, the ink once more takes form.

“💣︎✡︎ 💧︎☜︎👍︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎ ☞︎✌︎✞︎⚐︎☼︎✋︎❄︎☜︎ ☟︎⚐︎👌︎👌︎✡︎

✋︎💧︎ ☝︎✌︎☼︎👎︎☜︎☠︎✋︎☠︎☝︎📬︎

🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎ ✌︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ 💣︎☜︎📪︎

☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎✍︎

🕈︎☜︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎☹︎☜︎👍︎❄︎

✋︎☠︎☝︎☼︎☜︎👎︎✋︎☜︎☠︎❄︎💧︎📬︎”]

✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎☠︎💧︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎ 💣︎🕆︎👍︎☟︎ ☞︎🕆︎☠︎📬︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎✍︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☝︎⚐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎✡︎ ☟︎⚐︎❄︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎ ✌︎☝︎✌︎✋︎☠︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ❄︎☜︎☹︎☹︎ 💣︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎⚐︎✍︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☝︎✌︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎ ✋︎❄︎📬︎” it says, inked words making its way onto the paper.]

[*It continued,

“☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ 👎︎⚐︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎✍︎

👌︎🕆︎❄︎,

❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎🕈︎⚐︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 🏱︎✋︎☠︎😐︎✡︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎💧︎☜︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👍︎☟︎☜︎✌︎❄︎

⚐︎😐︎✍︎”.]

[*How fun! How joyous. Group gardening is always a wonderful bonding experience.]

[*It awaits your response.]

(Hastily, she wrote back.)

❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎💧︎ ☝︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎✋︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎✏︎ ✋︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎💧︎☜︎ ✋︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☠︎❄︎ 👍︎☟︎☜︎✌︎❄︎✏︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ❄︎🕈︎⚐︎ ☼︎🕆︎☹︎☜︎💧︎✍︎

That’s probably why our blogs work so well together! Though I am trying to project a younger me for Aqua, who was both unmedicated and unregulated, capturing the innocent, and hyper yet cautious Aqua I try to put forward!

“…hello? Mister? Are you there?”

@knife-fan

[*The study is quiet. There’s nobody in here, of course. other than you. there shouldn’t be.]

[*Or, was that a rustling of papers in the corner?]

[*A trembling pen?]

[*Nothing has moved. everything is the same as when you walked into the room.]

[*Or is it?]

(Aqua pouted slightly, not out of frustration, but out of paranoia. Maybe she could do something to talk to him?)

(It was then she recalled the pen in her pocket. She took it out, grabbed one of Seth’s papers, and started writing on it, getting help from the cipher on the wall.)

“…uuu… I-is this ok?”

[*Slowly, a message appeared below where it was—where it had been just moments ago.]

[*The ink is hot,

“☟︎☜︎☹︎☹︎⚐︎📬︎

:)”.]

(Right under the message, she wrote out something else.)

✌︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎☜︎❄︎☟︎✍︎

[*And then another message! As your writing disappears, ink scrawls itself into place below to form it’s invitation,

“✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

👎︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👌︎☜︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎💧︎

✌︎💧︎ 🕈︎☜︎☹︎☹︎✍︎”.]

[*The paper is colder.]

(Once again, Aqua wrote down her answer on the paper, finding she had to look up at the cipher less and less as the symbols became more legible for her.)

[*Replacing the previous statement, the ink once more takes form.

“💣︎✡︎ 💧︎☜︎👍︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎ ☞︎✌︎✞︎⚐︎☼︎✋︎❄︎☜︎ ☟︎⚐︎👌︎👌︎✡︎

✋︎💧︎ ☝︎✌︎☼︎👎︎☜︎☠︎✋︎☠︎☝︎📬︎

🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎ ✌︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ 💣︎☜︎📪︎

☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎✍︎

🕈︎☜︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎☹︎☜︎👍︎❄︎

✋︎☠︎☝︎☼︎☜︎👎︎✋︎☜︎☠︎❄︎💧︎📬︎”]

✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎☠︎💧︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎ 💣︎🕆︎👍︎☟︎ ☞︎🕆︎☠︎📬︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎✍︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☝︎⚐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎✡︎ ☟︎⚐︎❄︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎ ✌︎☝︎✌︎✋︎☠︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ❄︎☜︎☹︎☹︎ 💣︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☝︎⚐︎✍︎

“…hello? Mister? Are you there?”

@knife-fan

[*The study is quiet. There’s nobody in here, of course. other than you. there shouldn’t be.]

[*Or, was that a rustling of papers in the corner?]

[*A trembling pen?]

[*Nothing has moved. everything is the same as when you walked into the room.]

[*Or is it?]

(Aqua pouted slightly, not out of frustration, but out of paranoia. Maybe she could do something to talk to him?)

(It was then she recalled the pen in her pocket. She took it out, grabbed one of Seth’s papers, and started writing on it, getting help from the cipher on the wall.)

“…uuu… I-is this ok?”

[*Slowly, a message appeared below where it was—where it had been just moments ago.]

[*The ink is hot,

“☟︎☜︎☹︎☹︎⚐︎📬︎

:)”.]

(Right under the message, she wrote out something else.)

✌︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎☜︎❄︎☟︎✍︎

[*And then another message! As your writing disappears, ink scrawls itself into place below to form it’s invitation,

“✡︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

👎︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👌︎☜︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎💧︎

✌︎💧︎ 🕈︎☜︎☹︎☹︎✍︎”.]

[*The paper is colder.]

(Once again, Aqua wrote down her answer on the paper, finding she had to look up at the cipher less and less as the symbols became more legible for her.)

“…hello? Mister? Are you there?”

@knife-fan

[*The study is quiet. There’s nobody in here, of course. other than you. there shouldn’t be.]

[*Or, was that a rustling of papers in the corner?]

[*A trembling pen?]

[*Nothing has moved. everything is the same as when you walked into the room.]

[*Or is it?]

(Aqua pouted slightly, not out of frustration, but out of paranoia. Maybe she could do something to talk to him?)

(It was then she recalled the pen in her pocket. She took it out, grabbed one of Seth’s papers, and started writing on it, getting help from the cipher on the wall.)

“…uuu… I-is this ok?”

[*Slowly, a message appeared below where it was—where it had been just moments ago.]

[*The ink is hot,

“☟︎☜︎☹︎☹︎⚐︎📬︎

:)”.]

(Right under the message, she wrote out something else.)

✌︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎ ☞︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎☜︎❄︎☟︎✍︎

“…hello? Mister? Are you there?”

@knife-fan

[*The study is quiet. There’s nobody in here, of course. other than you. there shouldn’t be.]

[*Or, was that a rustling of papers in the corner?]

[*A trembling pen?]

[*Nothing has moved. everything is the same as when you walked into the room.]

[*Or is it?]

(Aqua pouted slightly, not out of frustration, but out of paranoia. Maybe she could do something to talk to him?)

(It was then she recalled the pen in her pocket. She took it out, grabbed one of Seth’s papers, and started writing on it, getting help from the cipher on the wall.)

“…uuu… I-is this ok?”

ooc:

showing up in the middle of all this egg stuff made me think of this

og image ⬇️

[*The door is…. far down. Has this water always been so deep?]

[*The white paint chips off the wood a little, brushing your face as it floats up and you down. Two different fates for two very different existing concepts.]

[*Everything plays its part.]

[*The door handle and lock is there. It doesn’t matter if your lungs are screaming. It never did.]

[*You were meant for this.]

[*this was meant for you.]

[*Proceed?]

- @entry-number17

[ * What's a few screaming lungs, anyway? They've been burning since Aqua. ]

[ * The rest of the world is too far away for them to think about it, anyway. Their eyes are barely shielded from the water thanks to their glasses, gaze focusing in and out on the door below them, descending deeper and deeper. Further and further. The point of no return. ]

[ * No one will come for them... That's okay. What's meant for them is ahead, anyway. ]

[ * Shakily, their hands fumble with the key, pressing a hand against the door to keep things... Relatively stable.

In goes the KEY. There goes it's click as it's turned to the side.

[*You manage to fumble the door open, revealing a tunnel below.]

[*It’s almost as if there’s no water at all anymore.]

[*The absence invites you in.]

[ * This... This is what they had proven themself for, isn't it? ]

...What...?

[ * Why stop now? It's a long way down...

[*It’s cold. It’s wet.]

[*It’s so…. inviting.]

[*You were made for this.]

[*The door closes shut above you, the sound of a lock clicks itself into place once again.]

[*A drip echoes throughout the chamber.]

... This is-...?

[ * ... What were they going to say? Seth.. wasn't so sure anymore, nor do they think it matters.. What little light that was shining through the door is gone by now, the way out is locked... ]

[ * So they persevere. ]

[*It’s an echoey cavern, and not exactly pleasant. But it’s inviting you in, and it would surely be rude to refuse such a warm welcome.]

[*The air pressure is…not as good down here.]

[*It’s very

very

interesting.]

... W.. Well... Here goes n-nothing..

[ * Their head is still thrumming with pain, their breaths are inconsistent and weak...

But they're a guest...

And they want to know more, don't they? ]

[*clay walls turn into asphalt turn cement turn into bricks. Or maybe they’ve always been this material. Who’s to say?]

[*They were only made to be walls. And that’s what they are.]

[*Drip.]

[*Drip.]

[*Drip.]

[*echoing down the hallway, you thought you heard a faint sound of….

garbage noise?]

[*A haunting tune plays in your mind, over and over. It goes down twice, and then the same much higher. occasionally it will switch octaves, but it remains constant. Ringing, ringing, ringing.]

[*Cant quite pin down what instrument that is. A good guess might be a waterlogged organ.]

[ * They can't tell what's the same or the different anymore, shakily moving their soaked hair out of their face. ]

[ * ....Squinting... Heart practically stopping... Footsteps staggering. ]

...

[ * ... Was there someone... Down there? ]

H.. hello-?

[ * Their voice cracks under the pressure of everything, exhausted and weak from their nonstop ventures today. From the constant abuse of their lungs. ]

[*Nothing but garbage noise.]

[*Nothing but loud, messy, unintelligible garbage noise…

…Is what it would have sounded like, if words didn’t start to transcribe themselves onto your notepad as whoever—whatever—was down here spoke.]

[*

“⚐︎☠︎☜︎ 💣︎⚐︎☼︎☜︎ ✌︎💧︎😐︎📬︎

⚐︎☠︎☜︎ 💣︎⚐︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎👎︎☜︎📬︎

☞︎⚐︎☼︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎☹︎☜︎👎︎☝︎☜︎🖴︎”]

[*—it says. Perhaps it doesn’t see how the day has already taken a toll on you. Perhaps it doesn’t notice how the closer you step, the more your migraine worsens. Perhaps it doesn’t care. But it’s holding something—something you can’t see. Something that has such an aura of want attached to it.]

[*

“☝︎✋︎✞︎☜︎ 🕆︎🏱︎

❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👌︎☹︎🕆︎☜︎ ☞︎☜︎✌︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💧︎☟︎✌︎☹︎☹︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎

[*You might have been able to make out a nod in the distance. It might have had creaking sounds as the motion occurred—it might have been gooey, sloshy instead like an amorphous blob moving. Or it might not have nodded at all.]

[*At some point, a box has appeared in front of you. It’s the same navy blue as that knife’s handle, with green accents painted inside the carvings.]

[*It has an anglerfish, and artistically speaking, it’s bulb was the unlocked lock on the front.]

[*Seems like a place to make a feathery deposit?]

[*Or was it all for nothing?]

[*Whoever is over there is still holding that item where you can’t see it.]

[ * They try to move, but their legs finally give in. Collapsing onto the ground, they try to lift themself back up enough so their face isn't completely scraped against the ground. ] Wh..why? W-why, I've already.. I've done so much.. [ * There's a cough from Seth, heaving a little as though still faced with water in their lungs. ] [ * The word hurts. It hurts. ]

[*The object of desire has been revealed. A small, glassy shard, kept out of your reach. In doing so, the man has stepped farther into view. He is a grotesque thing; though, it’s hard to pin down why.]

[*It’s not like his skeletal form is out of the ordinary for this world(though it seems more decayed than monster), but something about him seems to seep into the grout and choke out the little remaining light. Figuratively, probably? Or perhaps that’s not it at all.]

[*You cannot see his body. It is engulfed in shadow. Or perhaps he is shadow. Or the shadow is him.

Maybe he’s nothing. Maybe he’s incomplete. Maybe he’s everything.

He’s not what draws attention though.]

[*That shard, that glassy, gorgeous shard. It reeks of knowledge, of scholarly discovery like nobody had ever discovered before. And something about it suggests something more. something more.]

[*A tunnel vision causing thing, it whispers secrets just outside of your range of hearing. It solves equations just above your level of understanding. It breathes and sings and dances just outside of your peripheral vision. It’s physically and figuratively just outside of your grasp.]

[*It promises to teach you everything.]

[*You would have to go through everything you’ve been through a million times over to be deserving of this absolute gift, it seems.]

[*And yet—here it is. being offered to you upon a silver platter.]

[*All in exchange for one, lousy feather of a bird that will never know you exist.]

[*It could be yours, Seth.]

[*All yours.]

They're silly and naive to think their hero would ever know of their existence. To think that they thought they'd deserve something as nice as that. To think they thought they deserved something so lovely as their friends, ripping away their belongings, their prized possessions, all for a stupid, burntout, acknowledgment starved flower to end up collapsed in front of something they didn't even deserve. ] [ * They will give up the feather. If only because it's fair. If only because they had taken everything else from everyone they cared for. ]

[*The man crouches down, and a bony(?) hand finds its way to the top of Seth’s head, as if patting them consolingly. The ridges of the bones may or may not hurt your scalp. Can you even tell any more?]

[* The garbage noise grows softer,

“❄︎☟︎✌︎☠︎😐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎📪︎

☞︎⚐︎☼︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 👎︎☜︎👎︎✋︎👍︎✌︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎📪︎

☹︎✋︎❄︎❄︎☹︎☜︎ ☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎📬︎

☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ✋︎💧︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎☹︎☜︎👎︎☝︎☜︎📪︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ☞︎☼︎☜︎☜︎👎︎⚐︎💣︎📪︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☼︎😐︎☜︎👎︎ 💧︎⚐︎ ☟︎✌︎☼︎👎︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎📬︎”.]

[*It’s not consoling at all. It shouldn’t be. A stranger’s hand is on your head with fingers and you can’t even tell if they’re bony or not.]

[*But there is something comforting about it after what you have gone through.]

[*The man disappears.]

[*The locked latch of the manhole clicks open.]

[ * It doesn't matter if it hurts. It doesn't matter if it doesn't. It doesn't matter if he's real. The grating sound softens to what could be considered a lullaby by Seth's standards, and they look up to the man, eyes lingering on him while he still remains. ]

[ * They're told they did a good job.

They're told they've earned it. ]

... Hah..

[ * They close their eyes for a moment, letting those words sink in.

Because even if they know it isn't true... It's fun to dream, once and a while. ]

[ * .... And when they open their eyes back up.

They are alone.

And the pressure in their head has seemed to lessen. ]

....

[ * They still don't move for a while, pondering if it might be better to hide out here for eternity.. Staring at the prize of their escapades, glistening sharply in their hand...

But their body does move eventually, holding on tight to what they've acquired.

Through the tunnel.

Clumsily up the ladder steps.

And back into water. ]

[ * Before Seth surfaces, they take a gulp of water. To.. feel something, perhaps? To see if their lungs are still working?

And as their head finally pops up out of the pond, they pathetically clamber back onto the bridge.

And cough.

Just cough, and sputter, and wheeze...

Their 'lungs' are still working. They are still working. But no amount of coughing will alleviate them of that sinking feeling in their stomach. ]

[ * ....

And so, they let themself collapse onto the boards of the bridge.

And they just breathe.

They breathe.

(Aqua’s voice was small and a bit frightened, after watch Seth claw their way out of the water. She slowly knelt down beside them, as if to only make sure they were still breathing.)

“…uuu, I-i guess I won the footsteps game! Ha…”

“…”

...

....

As quickly as they stop to look at her, they glance away.

Aqua... Oh, Aqua. No.. nono, they.. they can't.. ]

“…uuu, maybe I could find a towel! Or- um…”

(She wouldn’t know where to get one if she looked, she was just trying to be helpful. Something clearly happened. She didn’t know what.)

(She looked back at Seth. And laid down beside them. Maybe they just needed to rest for a minute)

(She stared up at the ceiling, feeling like Seth didn’t want to look at her right now.)

... I'm.. okay, Aqua.

[ * This isn't the usual way they'd typically stammer about their words, or shout in a rather amusing way when Aqua got on their nerves... Wasn't that unpleasant? ]

... I just.. I just n-need to lay down.

[ * Seth goes quiet again, trying to close their eyes and let their body rest..

But then Aqua says some things.

Some things that make them tense, that make them feel... Humiliated? Ashamed?? ]

A-Aqua, I-

[ * ... No, no.. they.. couldn't bear to tell her. Especially after their initial encounter with her... ]

... If.. you s-see those symbols again..?

(Aqua turned her head to the side, away from Seth.)

“Uuu… alright.”

[*The door is…. far down. Has this water always been so deep?]

[*The white paint chips off the wood a little, brushing your face as it floats up and you down. Two different fates for two very different existing concepts.]

[*Everything plays its part.]

[*The door handle and lock is there. It doesn’t matter if your lungs are screaming. It never did.]

[*You were meant for this.]

[*this was meant for you.]

[*Proceed?]

- @entry-number17

[ * What's a few screaming lungs, anyway? They've been burning since Aqua. ]

[ * The rest of the world is too far away for them to think about it, anyway. Their eyes are barely shielded from the water thanks to their glasses, gaze focusing in and out on the door below them, descending deeper and deeper. Further and further. The point of no return. ]

[ * No one will come for them... That's okay. What's meant for them is ahead, anyway. ]

[ * Shakily, their hands fumble with the key, pressing a hand against the door to keep things... Relatively stable.

In goes the KEY. There goes it's click as it's turned to the side.

[*You manage to fumble the door open, revealing a tunnel below.]

[*It’s almost as if there’s no water at all anymore.]

[*The absence invites you in.]

[ * This... This is what they had proven themself for, isn't it? ]

...What...?

[ * Why stop now? It's a long way down...

[*It’s cold. It’s wet.]

[*It’s so…. inviting.]

[*You were made for this.]

[*The door closes shut above you, the sound of a lock clicks itself into place once again.]

[*A drip echoes throughout the chamber.]

... This is-...?

[ * ... What were they going to say? Seth.. wasn't so sure anymore, nor do they think it matters.. What little light that was shining through the door is gone by now, the way out is locked... ]

[ * So they persevere. ]

[*It’s an echoey cavern, and not exactly pleasant. But it’s inviting you in, and it would surely be rude to refuse such a warm welcome.]

[*The air pressure is…not as good down here.]

[*It’s very

very

interesting.]

... W.. Well... Here goes n-nothing..

[ * Their head is still thrumming with pain, their breaths are inconsistent and weak...

But they're a guest...

And they want to know more, don't they? ]

[*clay walls turn into asphalt turn cement turn into bricks. Or maybe they’ve always been this material. Who’s to say?]

[*They were only made to be walls. And that’s what they are.]

[*Drip.]

[*Drip.]

[*Drip.]

[*echoing down the hallway, you thought you heard a faint sound of….

garbage noise?]

[*A haunting tune plays in your mind, over and over. It goes down twice, and then the same much higher. occasionally it will switch octaves, but it remains constant. Ringing, ringing, ringing.]

[*Cant quite pin down what instrument that is. A good guess might be a waterlogged organ.]

[ * They can't tell what's the same or the different anymore, shakily moving their soaked hair out of their face. ]

[ * ....Squinting... Heart practically stopping... Footsteps staggering. ]

...

[ * ... Was there someone... Down there? ]

H.. hello-?

[ * Their voice cracks under the pressure of everything, exhausted and weak from their nonstop ventures today. From the constant abuse of their lungs. ]

[*Nothing but garbage noise.]

[*Nothing but loud, messy, unintelligible garbage noise…

…Is what it would have sounded like, if words didn’t start to transcribe themselves onto your notepad as whoever—whatever—was down here spoke.]

[*

“⚐︎☠︎☜︎ 💣︎⚐︎☼︎☜︎ ✌︎💧︎😐︎📬︎

⚐︎☠︎☜︎ 💣︎⚐︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎👎︎☜︎📬︎

☞︎⚐︎☼︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎☹︎☜︎👎︎☝︎☜︎🖴︎”]

[*—it says. Perhaps it doesn’t see how the day has already taken a toll on you. Perhaps it doesn’t notice how the closer you step, the more your migraine worsens. Perhaps it doesn’t care. But it’s holding something—something you can’t see. Something that has such an aura of want attached to it.]

[*

“☝︎✋︎✞︎☜︎ 🕆︎🏱︎

❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👌︎☹︎🕆︎☜︎ ☞︎☜︎✌︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎

✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💧︎☟︎✌︎☹︎☹︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎

[*You might have been able to make out a nod in the distance. It might have had creaking sounds as the motion occurred—it might have been gooey, sloshy instead like an amorphous blob moving. Or it might not have nodded at all.]

[*At some point, a box has appeared in front of you. It’s the same navy blue as that knife’s handle, with green accents painted inside the carvings.]

[*It has an anglerfish, and artistically speaking, it’s bulb was the unlocked lock on the front.]

[*Seems like a place to make a feathery deposit?]

[*Or was it all for nothing?]

[*Whoever is over there is still holding that item where you can’t see it.]

[ * They try to move, but their legs finally give in. Collapsing onto the ground, they try to lift themself back up enough so their face isn't completely scraped against the ground. ] Wh..why? W-why, I've already.. I've done so much.. [ * There's a cough from Seth, heaving a little as though still faced with water in their lungs. ] [ * The word hurts. It hurts. ]

[*The object of desire has been revealed. A small, glassy shard, kept out of your reach. In doing so, the man has stepped farther into view. He is a grotesque thing; though, it’s hard to pin down why.]

[*It’s not like his skeletal form is out of the ordinary for this world(though it seems more decayed than monster), but something about him seems to seep into the grout and choke out the little remaining light. Figuratively, probably? Or perhaps that’s not it at all.]

[*You cannot see his body. It is engulfed in shadow. Or perhaps he is shadow. Or the shadow is him.

Maybe he’s nothing. Maybe he’s incomplete. Maybe he’s everything.

He’s not what draws attention though.]

[*That shard, that glassy, gorgeous shard. It reeks of knowledge, of scholarly discovery like nobody had ever discovered before. And something about it suggests something more. something more.]

[*A tunnel vision causing thing, it whispers secrets just outside of your range of hearing. It solves equations just above your level of understanding. It breathes and sings and dances just outside of your peripheral vision. It’s physically and figuratively just outside of your grasp.]

[*It promises to teach you everything.]

[*You would have to go through everything you’ve been through a million times over to be deserving of this absolute gift, it seems.]

[*And yet—here it is. being offered to you upon a silver platter.]

[*All in exchange for one, lousy feather of a bird that will never know you exist.]

[*It could be yours, Seth.]

[*All yours.]

They're silly and naive to think their hero would ever know of their existence. To think that they thought they'd deserve something as nice as that. To think they thought they deserved something so lovely as their friends, ripping away their belongings, their prized possessions, all for a stupid, burntout, acknowledgment starved flower to end up collapsed in front of something they didn't even deserve. ] [ * They will give up the feather. If only because it's fair. If only because they had taken everything else from everyone they cared for. ]

[*The man crouches down, and a bony(?) hand finds its way to the top of Seth’s head, as if patting them consolingly. The ridges of the bones may or may not hurt your scalp. Can you even tell any more?]

[* The garbage noise grows softer,

“❄︎☟︎✌︎☠︎😐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎📪︎

☞︎⚐︎☼︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 👎︎☜︎👎︎✋︎👍︎✌︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎📪︎

☹︎✋︎❄︎❄︎☹︎☜︎ ☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎📬︎

☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ✋︎💧︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎☹︎☜︎👎︎☝︎☜︎📪︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ☞︎☼︎☜︎☜︎👎︎⚐︎💣︎📪︎

✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☼︎😐︎☜︎👎︎ 💧︎⚐︎ ☟︎✌︎☼︎👎︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎📬︎”.]

[*It’s not consoling at all. It shouldn’t be. A stranger’s hand is on your head with fingers and you can’t even tell if they’re bony or not.]

[*But there is something comforting about it after what you have gone through.]

[*The man disappears.]

[*The locked latch of the manhole clicks open.]

[ * It doesn't matter if it hurts. It doesn't matter if it doesn't. It doesn't matter if he's real. The grating sound softens to what could be considered a lullaby by Seth's standards, and they look up to the man, eyes lingering on him while he still remains. ]

[ * They're told they did a good job.

They're told they've earned it. ]

... Hah..

[ * They close their eyes for a moment, letting those words sink in.

Because even if they know it isn't true... It's fun to dream, once and a while. ]

[ * .... And when they open their eyes back up.

They are alone.

And the pressure in their head has seemed to lessen. ]

....

[ * They still don't move for a while, pondering if it might be better to hide out here for eternity.. Staring at the prize of their escapades, glistening sharply in their hand...

But their body does move eventually, holding on tight to what they've acquired.

Through the tunnel.

Clumsily up the ladder steps.

And back into water. ]

[ * Before Seth surfaces, they take a gulp of water. To.. feel something, perhaps? To see if their lungs are still working?

And as their head finally pops up out of the pond, they pathetically clamber back onto the bridge.

And cough.

Just cough, and sputter, and wheeze...

Their 'lungs' are still working. They are still working. But no amount of coughing will alleviate them of that sinking feeling in their stomach. ]

[ * ....

And so, they let themself collapse onto the boards of the bridge.

And they just breathe.

They breathe.

(Aqua’s voice was small and a bit frightened, after watch Seth claw their way out of the water. She slowly knelt down beside them, as if to only make sure they were still breathing.)

“…uuu, I-i guess I won the footsteps game! Ha…”

“…”

...

....

As quickly as they stop to look at her, they glance away.

Aqua... Oh, Aqua. No.. nono, they.. they can't.. ]

“…uuu, maybe I could find a towel! Or- um…”

(She wouldn’t know where to get one if she looked, she was just trying to be helpful. Something clearly happened. She didn’t know what.)

(She looked back at Seth. And laid down beside them. Maybe they just needed to rest for a minute)

(She stared up at the ceiling, feeling like Seth didn’t want to look at her right now.)