#doobable

"In this forest, deep at the heart, there rests a little village carved out by human. They've built home on this forest soil and they build their home from its trees."

"Legend has it this forest was grown by a single great spirit that has long since gone to make other forests like it. Depictions vary from person to person. Some say it was a elderly man, others say a young woman did it, and some even claim it was a beast of Yore, the dragon."

"They're all right, but also wrong." An older gentleman says with a smile, sitting and resting against an old, mossy tree.

Cadence couldn't help but ask "how so?"

"The being that watched this forest was a shape shifter." He replies. "One that guarded this forest long before even your great grandma."

"And how do you know this, then?" Cadence asked, glancing at the stranger.

"That's for me to know." The stranger stands. A big hat and an old trench coat, boots, gloves, and a dusty scarf all obscure most of the man. "That shape shifter left this forest in the hands of her kin, but I feel that will cause humans to flee from here. There's a storm brewing."

"Who are you?" Cadence stood.

The man chuckles. "Just an old traveler. I can't stay long, but I'm glad someone's still interested in an old man's tall tales." And he walked off into the forest. Cadence tried to follow but merely ended up at her village.

She lets out an annoyed sigh as she trudges home with the setting sun, dragging her feet inside and looking disgruntled.

Melody just figured her daughter was in a bad mood, but Dorian was the first to actually say anything when they all sat, eating dinner together in silence. "Cadence," He starts, breaking the quiet sounds of silverware against stone dishes. "is something bothering you?"

She glances up at him, from the food she's barely touched and spent more time picking at, only to return her gaze to the food. "Yeah, kinda..." She half mumbles before sitting upright instead of being slouched over as she was prior. "I met an old traveler today and he started telling me this story about the forest around the village before finishing it off with some vauge warning. I tried to follow him when he left but I ended up in the village by Uncle Eli's back yard."

Dorian was about to say something, but Melody spoke first. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was sone trick of the crypt that got loose. Ever since the lute was destroyed, people have been saying they've seen that old guy hanging around in the woods. It's also possible he's just off his rocker and wandering."

With that, the conversation died out into Quiet again.

"I'm not hungry." Cadence said after a few more minutes of quiet. Out of her chair and ustairs she went.

That night she couldn't shake that feeling. The feeling of something being amiss. Something bad would happen. It kept her up to midnight before she eventually fell asleep, resting against her windowsill.

Little shoots from vines started to sneak up through the trees and the bushes, weeds, and earth. It was in the village too. Just overnight, the town had thickly rooted vines sprawling in it, all from one general direction.

The vines were growing into people's homes and Cadende would find herself waking up in her Uncle's arms as her father lept out of the thorned-vine filling home with Melody. The home was being torn apart.

The whole village was tearing apart.

On each and every vine grew a purple flower. Clematis, by the look of it. No wonder they spawled everwhere so easily.

"There has to be a source. We should find and destroy it." Eli suggests, already having noted the way the vines grew from a sort of core.

Cadence and her parents were all in agreement.

A long travel through vines that threatened to overgrow and tangle them, but with the slash if a sword or the blast of a small bomb, the vines parted. After hours, they arrived at the source. In the middle if the forest, there lied a clearing where sun escaped to the soil below and in that spot sat a person with two long branches growing from their head with vines growing out of her hair in big clusters. She's sitting, clurled up, with her eyes gone completely sea green.

Cadence knew them.

"Dove? Dove, what happened? What's gotten into you-"

Dove only curled up further as more vines sprouted from her head and arms. Her clothes were ruined, easily, from all the vines. All her response was, was some mumbling that she wanted no more.

No more bad memories, no more anxiety, and no more people.

Cadence dared to approach despite the vines. "Dove you have to snap out of it-" A vine wraps around Cadence's leg, tripping her. She tried to get up only to be further tangled. The plants were cutting into her as they squeeze her arms, leg, and around her waist. "Dove, people's homes are being destroyed!" but the vines only grew tighter and speaking became an issue. No one could reach her due to the quick growing vines. One choked sentence escaped her.

"You're hurting me, Dove..."

The vines suddenly slacked and Cadence got a deep breath before coughing. The plants no longer grew as their source was no longer feeding them. Dove's eyes returned to normal but the branches remained on her. "Oh no--Nonono-- I'm sorry--I-" She stammers before she starts to tug on those vines stemming from her. They start to give her room to move without actually breaking.

"I hurt you--" Dove quickly comes over to Cadence, holding her just long enough to heal her before a longsword cut across Dove's chest. Not enough to kill, but enough to scare her back far from Cadende as Melody appeoached, dropping the sword and scooping Cadence into a hug.

Dove struggled to fight off her nature, but managed, simply snapping what vines had not retracted before escaping deeper into the woods and away from the village.

"Then you are not someone I wish to speak to." White says, looking off at some other, faraway, thing.

"What do you mean?"

"To truly love is to accept. To accept is to know. To know is to be told or witness. If you cannot accept because you do not know because of the secrets she keeps, then you are not truly in love with her. You are in lobe with the idea of her."

Her words cut through him. His hand starts to ache with this terrible pounding... Dread? Fear? What was this? Quirrel didn't understand, things were...

Things...

"That's how he's been since a few days after we found him." Wilson said, staring at the Mime in question. They were in a make-shift cage of sorts. It was holding up for now.

"I don't get what happened..." Willow said after Wilson. "He was totally fine two days ago and now it looks like he wants to fight a deerclops."

Wilson sighs. "I wish I could explain what happened, but I don't even know why it's happening or what to do with him other than keep him caged until this subsides." As he spoke, the mime tried to climb the moonrock walls, but they were too slick for him. The doors were locked in aswell with moonstone to keep him from climbing over. With no such luck of getting out, the mime continued to pace around like a caged animal. Nightmare fuel dripped off his chin every now and then as it leaked from his mouth. Sometimes much bigger clods came up in unpleasant ways.

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A day of being with other people after strenuous isolation did nothing short of thrill Wes. He could have company and learn about them! He could help them too! What could possibly be better? In his eyes, the answer was simple. Nothing could.

That joy could be taken as easily a it came.

Entering the camp Wilson had set up for the first time, only to see the man who trapped him. The man who CAGED him in his own box for merely existing! It didn't sit well with him.

"This is our camp" Wilson repeated himself, having spoken before.

Wes nodded quickly, taking his eyes of maxwell for that brief moment before looking back at him like the older fellow would lunge at him if Wes took his eyes of him for anything less than a second. Something wasn't sitting right in the mime, but he burried that inside him for now, chosing instead to quickly look back at Wilson went caught staring.

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The sun had just set, everyone had gone to bed. It was seldom this calm in the constant. Wes didn't yet have a tent in the camp but didn't mind sleeping on a straw roll. Better than a mimed box, that's for sure.

That unease rolled back in. Stronger, much stronger this time. It bubbled to the surface and Wes began to choke up nightmare fuel. The fear of not understanding this caused his sanity to heavily plummet and for his thoughts to grow worse.

Until his thoughts landed on Maxwell.

Wes he furious with the magician, this deep, burning hate for the man and the sanity he lost lead him to something horrific. His body changed, but not by too much. Only enough for a set of sharper teeth to come in, not replacing the old. All the while, things were dead silent. Silence was his defining trait. While the magician slept, Wes came in and started choking him, letting his own grip grow tighter and tighter until Maxwell couldn't speak or breath. All he could do was try and get Wes off to no avail. All the while, Wes had a grin from ear to ear as if he was just freed from the box.

The thrashing and struggling stopped. All that remained was a body and a ghost. Maxwell's ghost quickly fled the scene like he could be harmed by Wes, but he was safe like that. Out of the mime's backpack came a sharp piece of flint that he started to carve the corpse's face and hands with, his arms weren't safe from it either. The body still bled, staining the flint with blood and staining the mime's white gloves in spots. After the body was scraped up enough, he stuck the fling into the corpse's eye and pushed it in as far as it would go. He looked like a curious child now, messing with this in ways no person should ever. Finally, the corpse turned into a skeleton with Maxwell's revival.

Wes stood up, only to be grabbed and held by Wolfgang. As he was held, he struggled and tried to bite him to no avail. He went on like that until Willow hit him with a couple sleep darts and put him right to sleep.

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"You better find a way to science him better." Willow said, peeking in on the mime through a little gap. "He's getting restless again."

Quirrel, sitting on the shore of the blue lake. Sitting in the sand, his head feeling so bare without Monomon’s mask on him. Bare and empty, barren like the beach. Well, that was a lie. The beach has rocks, some leaves, other little skittering bugs about.

The water, so bright blue and beautiful, reflecting things almost like a mirror. Disorienting, somewhat. The ceiling and walls reflected the waves of light glistening off the surface of this deep blue lake. Crisp, cool, still but ever so slightly disturbed by small drops from the ceiling that fell. One day, this lake may be no more when it all washed away into the city and below.

To his side, a nail, his nail, planted firmly, sitting in the shore between two rocks to sit upright. It had little words in the fine engravings inside. An impressive feat, surely. Made of pure ore but showing very very light ware over all the years. It sat in these rocks like a little marker, a grave, merely lacking in a name, date, and cause of death. Maybe even a writing of last words. A chuckle escaped the bug as he thought of some silly thing to say like “I’m nice and cozy”, or “I’m laughing so hard I could die”.

In the lake surface, he could see reflections of something not real. A figment of his imagination. So many times he’d break them up by falling.

But this time? No.

Fed up. Fed up with feeling this way, of the inability to escape this all. Standing up, Quirrel grabbed his nail, pulling it from the shore.

The days of the constant that the survivors had taken to meet and organize after the florid postern had been built were far too many to count. Far too many to remember, considering the world had reset on numerous occasions.

Wilson had taken mental note of little things he observed from survivors. behaviors, choices, words even. The hardest one to understand was the mime, of course. But something odd had been noticed by the scientist. This mime, Wes as anyone called him, could make balloons float with his breath. Usually it’s require helium or something lighter than air for them to float. It was peculiar.

Another things to note:

Wes was always struggling to survive. It seems near impossible that he should survive without the help of others some day. Not only that, but it seemed like the mime was struggling to breathe some days. Perhaps it was linked? “Wilson, stop staring into space!” Willow yelled in his face.

Wilson winced. “Don’t yell at me!” He protested.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes! Wes is acting up again!” Wilson didn’t even hesitate to head out and investigate. Wes was in his tent, so Wilson went over and peaked in. Indeed, the mime appeared to be struggling to get any air, despite this place not being smoky or polluted. Some of the nicest air was here in the constant…

“Wes…” Wilson said, walking in. “What’s wrong? why are you–” he quickly stopped himself, remembering Wes didn’t speak. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” Off he went. In a moment, he returned with several pages of papyrus and a feather pencil.

“Do you know what’s wrong?”

Scribble scribble scribble…

French. That’s an issue.

“I don’t speak French, Wes.”

Wes quickly corrected himself and started writing in English.

“I don’t breathe oxygen. I breathe helium and there’s not much of it here.”

This both intrigued and baffled Wilson. How could someone live off helium? A normal person would die without oxygen yet– Wilson snapped himself out of his own thought process. He had more important things to deal with.

It'd been a month since the accident. Elliot was gone and Wes missed him so. Having to come to terms with losing someone he cared about at such a young age was too much. Often, Wes found himself daydreaming and heading off to a strage, new world. A couple times, he'd have sworn he saw his brother.

The rain was pouring outside and Wes stared out the window, sort of going into a daydream haze. Out there in the rain, he could see his brother out in the street. 

"C'mon Wes, let's play!" Eli said.

He looked real. Wes ran outside, causing Winona to stir from her sleep on the nearby couch. 

Wes ran out to Eli. "You're alive!" He cried happily, trying to hug his brother only for the delusion to fade. Something bright was coming. Two bright things, and fast. Before he could react, he was yanked out of the way of the vehicle.

"SLOW DOWN ASSHOLE!" Winona yelled at the vehicle, even if it wouldn't do anything. That kind of model was far more advanced then she'd ever seen and it was painted jet black... She turned her attention to Wes, only to have him hug her in a mess of tears.

"Why did Eli have to go...?" Wes asked, half muffled in Winona's chest. 

Winona lifts him up, taking him inside. "Sometimes people leave our lives unexpectedly... It hurts us and we ask ourselves a lot of questions... But... Truthfully, there's no easy way to deal with the fact he's gone. All we can do is stay strong and try to move on."

"I'm trying, but it hurts so badly!" Wes only sobbed more.

Winona sat with him and wiped away his tears. "It's gonna take time for you to heal. No one is expecting you to move on right away." She wraps a blanket around him so he didn't get cold. "Please, just don't run into roads next time."

"But I saw him! H-He was out there!"

"Hun... He's not around, you know that..." Winona was heartbroken from all this and it took a lot to keep herself from breaking down in tears. "I'm sorry."

Wes curled up in the blanket. He didn't want to believe her. His brother had been right there.

Right there and calling to him.

____

Winona had been on edge lately. Then again, who on the constant wasn't on edge due to the unpredictability of the constant? Regardless, it was time she went out to get some berries to stock up for the winter. Turkeys were a good thing to hunt too, so she took her trusty spear, repaired with duct tape of course. On her hunt, she gathered a small amount of berries and a good amount of turkey. A shaking bush caught her attention. A juicy berry bush too! Winona snuck over with her spear ready, showing no hesitation when she struck whatever was behind the bush.

What caught her off guard was the noise it made. Trumpets? That... That sound wasn't a turkey sound. Pushing some brush back, she saw a strange looking pers-- "OH GOD I SPEARED SOMEONE" was her first thoughts before she set to helping him, trying to apologize but the heat if the moment made it sound like "OhmygoshI'msosorryIdidn'tevethinktherewasanyoneelsehere". Wilson could barely understand her, let alone focus on much. That is a LOT of blood that he's losing--But his mind went to other places. “Who... Are you...?” He asked, never having seen her before.

“We’ll talk later, you’re more roughed up then a salmon and a bear” She lifted him up with relative ease, taking him to her camp to rest. She was honestly worried sick when he passed out on the way to her camp. No ghost, so he wasn;t dead, but it was still worrisome. This was a lot for Winona... She wasn’t a murderer, and it weighed heavily on her conscious. What if there were other people looking for him?

Wes had battled so hard and so tirelessly to end up here. The final borrila went down and healing circle went down as well. He took this moment of peace to get his breath.

"Why?"

Wes looked up at the battle master, still breathing heavily while some wounds still bled. 

"Why did you come all the way back here? What was your reason? You had what you wanted, your friends, family, a home, you had them all right with you." The king shifts in his seat, standing up. "Why would you throw that away and come here?"

A large beast growled, ready to enter the ring, but Forge stopped them. "Sai, this is between Wes and I."

Wes set up another healing circle before speaking. "Because you're not getting better trying to fight alone... Zis place isn't good for you, it's not healsy." Wes said, healing in the flowers. "You seem to sink zat way, but you know--"

"Enough." The king interrupted. "You took my challenges regardless of purpose. Now you're fight is with me and me alone." Forge jumped inyo the ring as a trident appeared in his hands. "Let's battle."

...

Wes dropped his weapon. Before everyone, the mime was torn apart with no mercy. The crowd roars in applause. This was wrong, it felt wrong to Forge. All of this was wrong... Though...