#vigos-journal

( Curious starter prompt from @vigos-journal " Why are you asking all of this if you know it, anyway? " ) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vittorio studied the spread-out notes of the Pustla’s flower and similar fauna he’s taken over the years and ones Vigo has taken as well. The table was a mess but for the two geniuses, it was plenty organized. He sighed as he brushed back his curly hair which has grown longer over the months he could put it up in pony tail at this point if he wished.

“I just…..to be frank I haven’t really dealt with the yearly Blight cycle for a long time Vigo…well as a “normal” survivor. I mostly held out in my protected tower or I was too busy traveling the realms to notice or care about it for the past couple decades.” Vittorio was obviously a little nervous being put on the “front” lines of possible infection or harm from the blight this year. Especially with that hooded “Alchemist” around who seems to enjoy causing trouble and dabbling into the darker side of the occult with blight.

“Soooo…..if any of us DOES get infected…it eventually goes away right? These blighted killers and…..” Vittorio castes a weary eye to a page of notes taken by Vigo of the rare cases where survivors become blighted.

Out on a table near the dance floor, the little abomination skittered back and forth on a table, flailing limbs and wailing as it tends to do. It seems to be having a good time, but getting more frustrated as people either pass it by, or stop to croon and then move along.

To those who might know better, something more might be noticeable. Those flailing limbs aren't entirely random, the fingers forming distinct shapes and motions, entangling among others doing their own shapes and getting in the way of each other.

It was attempting to sign, but with many extra limbs with broken anatomy, the overall effect was many voices clambering at once, difficult to focus on.

How do you use that wire trick on the generator, if I may inquire?"

He was pulling off wires that was wrapped around his gloves, he may have tried to do it last trial.

He may have failed in doing so last trial-

“First things first, you don’t do whatever it is you did, to get like that.” She gave a teasing smile, watching him remove the last of the wires. Walking closer to Vigo, she put a hand on her chin; thinking. Seeing as they are both survivors, she could teach him how to wiretap a generator. Especially, since he asked so politely, Ada liked that. “I’ll show you.” She held a finger up. “But, only if you show me a trick you can do as well. I don’t enjoy giving out my secrets for free.”

Vigo was a sight for such sore glowing eyes that rested within Talbot's misshaped head. He kept to the shadows, watching the Researcher silently as they went about their business. Did he know? How much he yearned for them? To decipher their notes and escape the Fog like they did? Why did they come back?

Talbot could not hold himself back any longer, he rushed at Vigo, drifting to a stop and slamming his mutated hands to the sides of their head. Looming over them, inspecting them visually oh so carefully before dragging his sharp infected nails down the wall, raking deep scratches into it; reaching down to take their jaw into his hands.

Jake was sitting at one of the tables, one delightfully empty so far, with one arm resting on the table and the other fidgeting a butterknife between his fingers. The chair was tipped casually on its back legs, though Jake settled it flat onto the ground when he was approached by someone in a ram mask. The knife stopped spinning in his fingers and he watched the other approach.

What was new however was the girl he found wondering them.

Kate, he knows Kate, she's one of the older survivors after all and one of the strong willed ones. After all these years, she still hasn't given up on trying to find a way out. He quietly walked up to her.

" There's some sweet William flowers beside you, it'd be a great offering to have when you go back to the campfire. "

Kate had been looking up, trying to figure out if she could climb a tree barefooted or not in order to get a better view of the land. Hearing this new voice startled the songbird, and she jumped back, gaging whether or not she needed to flee. This newcomer didn't seem like he was a threat to her, and slowly she felt her heart calm down.

Sweet William? Out here? She looked down and spotted those white blooms among the grass. "OH! I hadn't even noticed. Thank ya kindly!" A few of them were picked -- just enough for an offering prior to a trial. Kate didn't know if plants here followed the same rules as they did outside of the fog, but it was best to err on the side of caution.

There it was. So he did remember, after all. Aren’t you a clever one, Deadeyes thought, following along with the slightly shorter man’s dancing smoothly and evenly. They laughed, short and quiet and raspy, as Vigo promised not to make a scene. They truly were in very similar situations, in that regard. Not at all alike in power and knowledge, of course, but both with the need to stay quiet and hidden.

For what the other one wanted Deadeyes didn’t know. Escape, most likely. They couldn’t provide that, but they could potentially provide something like it. If they were a proper enough prospect, at least. Good enough, for their tastes.

Luckily, they were not very picky, and Vigo was very tantalizing.

“No, I reckon not. Wouldn’t be good for either of us,” they said, tilting their head. A smile reached their eyes at the mimicking, although otherwise their facial features were entirely hidden beneath the mask and the bandanna. “Oh, I pride myself on being a nuisance, though—thank you. Watch your tongue, though, little dogey.”

Cat.

There was a cat in front of him, how did such a thing find it's way in the fog?

Carefully and slowly he bent down and held his hand out.

" Pspspspspsp. "

Dwight slowly blinked as he stared up at the mysterious survivor, trying his best to identify who in the Fog this could be. His head tilted on impulse, squinting a little before he instinctively approached upon being called forward. Something about ‘pspsps’ made him want to come running.