"Oh. Yes." Definitely intrigued now. He perks up, signified more by his tone and the way he floats fractionally higher than any actual expression on his blank, broken mask. "What is 'fly fishing'?"
That's gonna take some getting used to, too. Roman adjusts his line of sight appropriately.
"You know I don't have any fucking idea? Con didn't catch anything, he just sort of stood in the river with the dumbest looking pants I've seen. C'mon."
He's already at the closure itself, fiddling with the controls.
Yellow follows, still curious and now also surprised at Roman's interest. Arthur and JD caring made sense, even Collins to a degree, given they were all from the same place. Jedao he can understand. Hunter-- well, Hunter got to know him after they were paired, too, he supposes, though it wasn't this deliberate.
"Uh. What... do you want to know about? I've only existed as I am for..." He raises a few tentacles to study like they'll help him do the math before he looks at Roman again. "Eighty days. Only three of those were before this place."
Edwin gives him a blank look in return. ...Well, yes, because his face is literally a blank mask, but somehow his aura also manages to communicate 'what, like it's weird?'
"I've only existed as I am for eighty days, and three of them were before the barge. Before that I was in the Dark World, a lifeless dimension of chaos in which the refuse of the universe collects."
"...What does it answer?" He's both curious and confused, because he's pretty sure he has no better idea now of what Roman wants to know, but whatever, he'll follow him into the enclosure.
"Why you're you." A beat, and Roman steps into the Enclosure.
It's sunset, the river glittering beautifully during golden hour, temperature perfect. Roman doesn't even know if it's how it really was: it's how he remembers it, and that's what counts. There's a big thermos and two folding chairs, and Roman gestures with a thumb at all of the picturesque beauty.
"Oh," he says, softly, not to Roman's answer--he's got more questions about that--but to the landscape they've just walked into. Or floated into, in his case.
He drifts further in, hovering just over the edge of the water and listening to the stream, wishing he could touch it and feel anything more than the pressure that says there's water there.
After a second, distractedly, he adds, "I can't squat. I don't have legs."
"Caught that. Pop a cloud, then, I don't know, just... relax."
It seems to be going well. Nothing weirdly upsetting, nice, relaxed atmosphere. Yeah. Okay.
"So I guess...I just wanted to know about you. Not the shit in the file--which I haven't got don't worry--or like the cold, clinical bullshit, just... you. What's your story morning glory?"
He's still taken by their surroundings, looking around in awe, only half-paying attention to his own words.
"There isn't much to tell. I was a piece of the King in Yellow, a patron god of madness and art, broken away from him when he attempted to enter a version of your Earth and was severed. I was trapped and bound in a book that exiled me to the Dark World. I forgot who I was, what I had been. I existed there for centuries beyond counting. Then I was dragged back to earth and trapped in the eyes of Arthur Lester when he tried to save John from being taken again by the King. Not this Arthur. A very different one. One the Arthur here hasn't become, won't become now."
He finally looks over at Roman. "I lived for three days in that man's eyes, and then he killed me, or I assume he did, after teaching me how to survive the worst things a human can be."
Roman blinks. That's incredibly not helpful. This conversation is incredibly not helpful. It's vague in the way that normally pisses him off, not vague in the way Karolina spins words around in the PR centrifuge or Gerri's firm lies of omission. But it's not this kid's fault. He's like, three days old.
"Okay. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want. I'm just here to keep an eye on you this month.""
He growls, frustrated. "I'm not not talking about it. I don't know what I would do. I've never had to do really horrible things to survive. Not myself, not when I wasn't inside someone else. I've never had my own limbs to hurt people with."
There's a spike of doubt growing, a little seed twisting his stomach up that he tries to ignore as much as he can. Roman looks to the picturesque river, to the floating entity, back to the river.
"What about when you were inside of someone else?"
There's a long silence at that. He's had this form, this in-between body for much longer now than he was inside Arthur's eyes. His learning curve has been different than John's, which leaves him--for better or worse--more physically expressive. As much as he's able to float motionless and unreadable if he wants to, his reaction to that question is an instinctive curling inward, a lessening of his presence for a breath.
"...No. But he-- that version of Arthur, he told me about someone he killed. One he was sorry about. But then he threatened to kill others. I saw the... results of a creature's attention to a human. The results of human attention to a pack of wolves. I am not... unfamiliar with violence. I killed Arthur when I came here. I strangled him and pushed him down the stairs, but I didn't realize at first that he was dead after he landed. I hurt him at Halloween because I was angry at the one I knew."
He holds up a few tentacles to inspect, clearly and suddenly fascinated as the realization sinks in. He hasn't hurt that many people. He, himself, Edwin, hasn't hurt many people at all, no matter what being he was a part of before. A shadow lifts, a guilt and shame and sadness he didn't know was there, clinging like a tarnish to everything. No matter what Arthur said about him, to him, the Arthur he met first, he's not a monster. Maybe it's just because he's never had opportunity to be, but he's not.
Roman's not well versed in shit like 'crown wearing tentacle child' but he knows how to read people when he wants to. Probably it's a bit fucked up he's not helping right away but Roman leans back, analyzing the other carefully. This isn't a board room and this isn't a press conference and this isn't a news network, but people are people.
Or eldrich beings.
Roman watches. Roman analyzes. He presses his lips into a thin line.
"Promise you won't narc and I'll tell you a secret."
Edwin looks at him through the blank, fractured mask, tentacles still held poised. His tone makes his curiosity and surprise clear. "I won't narc. What's narc-ing?"
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"One of my brothers took me fly fishing in Montanna when I was really young. It sucked, but it was fun. You wanna check it out?"
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"You know I don't have any fucking idea? Con didn't catch anything, he just sort of stood in the river with the dumbest looking pants I've seen. C'mon."
He's already at the closure itself, fiddling with the controls.
"You can tell me about yourself and shit."
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"Uh. What... do you want to know about? I've only existed as I am for..." He raises a few tentacles to study like they'll help him do the math before he looks at Roman again. "Eighty days. Only three of those were before this place."
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"Excuse me?"
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"I've only existed as I am for eighty days, and three of them were before the barge. Before that I was in the Dark World, a lifeless dimension of chaos in which the refuse of the universe collects."
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"Jesus Christ. I guess that answers some things. C'mon--hop in."
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It's sunset, the river glittering beautifully during golden hour, temperature perfect. Roman doesn't even know if it's how it really was: it's how he remembers it, and that's what counts. There's a big thermos and two folding chairs, and Roman gestures with a thumb at all of the picturesque beauty.
"Pop a squat, buddy."
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He drifts further in, hovering just over the edge of the water and listening to the stream, wishing he could touch it and feel anything more than the pressure that says there's water there.
After a second, distractedly, he adds, "I can't squat. I don't have legs."
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It seems to be going well. Nothing weirdly upsetting, nice, relaxed atmosphere. Yeah. Okay.
"So I guess...I just wanted to know about you. Not the shit in the file--which I haven't got don't worry--or like the cold, clinical bullshit, just... you. What's your story morning glory?"
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"There isn't much to tell. I was a piece of the King in Yellow, a patron god of madness and art, broken away from him when he attempted to enter a version of your Earth and was severed. I was trapped and bound in a book that exiled me to the Dark World. I forgot who I was, what I had been. I existed there for centuries beyond counting. Then I was dragged back to earth and trapped in the eyes of Arthur Lester when he tried to save John from being taken again by the King. Not this Arthur. A very different one. One the Arthur here hasn't become, won't become now."
He finally looks over at Roman. "I lived for three days in that man's eyes, and then he killed me, or I assume he did, after teaching me how to survive the worst things a human can be."
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"So... Why are you here?" He gives the other a curious, if confused look.
"Doesn't sound like you've actually done anything. Feels a bit more circumstantial than anything else."
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"The means by which I choose to survive, if I need to, I imagine."
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"And you wanna tell me what that is?"
There's an alarming lack of judgement.
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"Okay. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want. I'm just here to keep an eye on you this month.""
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There's a spike of doubt growing, a little seed twisting his stomach up that he tries to ignore as much as he can. Roman looks to the picturesque river, to the floating entity, back to the river.
"What about when you were inside of someone else?"
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"...No. But he-- that version of Arthur, he told me about someone he killed. One he was sorry about. But then he threatened to kill others. I saw the... results of a creature's attention to a human. The results of human attention to a pack of wolves. I am not... unfamiliar with violence. I killed Arthur when I came here. I strangled him and pushed him down the stairs, but I didn't realize at first that he was dead after he landed. I hurt him at Halloween because I was angry at the one I knew."
He holds up a few tentacles to inspect, clearly and suddenly fascinated as the realization sinks in. He hasn't hurt that many people. He, himself, Edwin, hasn't hurt many people at all, no matter what being he was a part of before. A shadow lifts, a guilt and shame and sadness he didn't know was there, clinging like a tarnish to everything. No matter what Arthur said about him, to him, the Arthur he met first, he's not a monster. Maybe it's just because he's never had opportunity to be, but he's not.
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Or eldrich beings.
Roman watches. Roman analyzes. He presses his lips into a thin line.
"Promise you won't narc and I'll tell you a secret."
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I LAUGHED AT THE FIRST ICON NGL
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