datadiving | if we're fused together who's driving the car

[ He can feel something - someone - in the dark. Near or far, he can't tell, though distance doesn't seem to mean much here.

What had happened? He tries to recall; memory falls through in shards (a blizzard, frozen rain).

A woman with blonde hair and a shocked, tearful expression, sharp pain striking through him that's numbed by bitter cold. A dungeon, a cell, the sound of chains - those things aren't his, but they mean something all the same.

He stops trying to remember things, because it hurts.

This time, it's easier to form some kind of 'sound' that is understandable as words, so he calls out instead. ]

Hello?

[ A question seeking an answer. The words aren't as important as the feeling behind them. ]

[A word that's not a word. A question simple and familiar... It brings up the scent of copper in a chill air, a face growing pale as the seconds tick by, desperation and foolhardiness and helplessness and iron around his neck.]

Ekkehardt?

[A question for a question, unhelpful but desperate.]

[ He feels - relieved, hearing that voice, identifying that presence. It hurts, for a reason he either can't or doesn't want to remember right now, but...

Avery is here, at least. That's something. ]

Avery?

Where are you?

[ It doesn't matter so much where he himself is, as long as he can find his friend, as long as he knows...whatever's happened. He anchors himself by that goal, for now. ]

[That's the question of the day, isn't it? He's not even sure how he's speaking. He's not even sure if he's moving, can't feel his lips make the movements for speech, can't even tell if he's blinking.]

I don't know. Keep talking. I'm going to follow your voice.

[Or try to anyway. It's like it's echoing around him, through him, coming out of him even though he knows for a fact that he didn't just ask himself where he was.]

All--all right.

[ He can't help but sound uncertain. He can't remember what happened, what he might have done or what they might have done. That in itself is concerning.

He tries to remember. It's painful, and bright in a way he can't articulate properly, even to himself. ]

I can't remember...what happened. Just before. I don't know why.

[ He was dying. Now he's not. But he didn't have enough magic to save himself, so what is this? ]

If I think about it, I can remember everything else...it's just that.

You too?

[He doesn't know how, but Ekkehardt's voice is getting closer. Avery isn't moving, he's sure of it, but somehow he's... "willing" himself closer? Maybe. It doesn't make any sense.]

You came down to the cellar and then--

[He breaks off, the words seeming to catch before they can come out]

Ugh. Forget it. You know what I mean anyway. Do I sound like I'm getting closer? Can't see anything in here.

[ There's the impression he's winced, even though there's nothing to see. Just a sense of an expression. ]

You sound closer than before. I think what you're doing is working.

[ Maybe he should head towards him? He can feel something, at least, so he tries to pull himself towards that. Move towards it. Something like that, anyway. ]

Good. Because I have no idea what it is I'm doing.

[And maybe that's the only reason that he's able to do it. Do without thinking: a philosophy that has only served him poorly on half of the occasions he's used it.

It isn't long before he's able to make out Ekkehardt's silhouette in the darkness, and he moves quicker to catch up, sliding to a stop in front of the man--

And taking in the sudden changes.]

Thats'. New.

[ Avery was always better at acting before he thought. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but he always acted, and sometimes that was all that mattered.

He feels his friend's presence before he sees him. The baffled expression on his face likely matches Avery's own, though Ekkehardt's is probably milder. ]

Oh.

Why would you look different? I don't... [ He reaches out to touch him, and pulls his hand back as he receives a brief flash of clarity.

--"Don't leave me!"

He'd responded without thinking--

It doesn't give him much. He just looks more puzzled. ]

[The memory echoes, and Avery can't help but flinch.

Struggling fruitlessly against the chains. His friend is bleeding out. He's dying. He's been there forever. It's like losing a part of him. It's--

It's embarrassing is what it is.

Heightened emotions or no, having screamed something like that so plainly... Why couldn't that be a blur too?

Avery looks down at himself, or tries to anyway. He can see Ekkehardt clear as day, but looking down at himself reveals nothing.]

So we both look different for some reason and are locked in some weird... void... thing for reasons neither of us remember. Great. Good for us.

[ He can feel the embarrassment as if it was his own (and to be fair, he's embarrassed too, so it's not all Avery). That alone is odd, because they've never been linked, not magically.

(It had been something of a small joke, though; wherever Avery went, Ekkehardt followed, and so on. Always seeking each other out.) ]

I'm not sure if it's a lock...it doesn't feel like one.

[ Memory trickles back into the darkness, water falling.

--"You shouldn't use this unless you're certain it's someone you'd trust with your life," the old woman says to him. He reads the words on the page, but he's a little tired, so they blur slightly.

"It's a dangerous thing. It takes everything you have. But if they're dying," she continues, "and you have nothing else to give--

--he can hold his soul outside his body, if he tries, if he concentrates on pulling everything he is into something outside himself. He's dying anyway, so he doesn't care any more that this is dangerous.

(If Avery dies, nothing matters anyway.)

He cups it in his hands as it swirls uncertainly--

He'd stare at his hands if he could. Instead, he stares out into space, trying to scrape together anything else. ]

It doesn't make sense.

Edited 2019-08-12 14:35 (UTC)

[Avery stares at the twisting, glowing light in Ekkehardt's hands, trying to process what exactly it is he's seeing.

A soul?

That's a soul. His soul.

Is he... offering his soul?

There's something wrong about this. He's read stories about people who have transformed into terrible soul eating monsters from less.

But if this is what Ekkehardt wants, if this can somehow keep him from dying...

He frowns, brow furrowing. The memory cane as if called by Ekkehardt's, and, frankly, it doesn't help him understand much.]

So... something happened with our souls.

[He at least understands that much]

Are we dead?

[They had to have screwed up. Why else would they be in the void?]

I don't...think so. [ Death is different, though he can't explain why he knows it's so. They're both here, and nothing's calling them, so he doesn't think they're dead.

"Take it. You'll be strong enough...then..." It's painful to speak, but everything is painful, so what's a little more? ]

I don't think dying means we can feel each other's emotions. If it went wrong, we wouldn't be linked at all...and it's not like we were linked before.

[ His voice (his thoughts?) are a ripple in the dark. It's almost possible to see what he's saying before it actually leaves him. ]

[Feel eachother's...

Oh god.

He felt him get embarrassed.

And he's probably feeling him be embarrassed now.

Maybe if he shouts, Ekkehardt will be too distracted to acknowledge it.]

Right! Linking! There sure is a lot of linking going on! It's probably something to do with that!

[nailed it]

[ He can't help but laugh at the sudden change of subject; it's almost a relief, to have something like that again.

(He hasn't had anything to laugh about in what feels like a long time. He'd been stiff and unhappy, with only a few warm moments in between them, recognising a problem existed and not knowing what to do about it, feeling helpless to act.

Upset was one word for it. Heartbroken, something he'd denied and ignored by turns, was another.)

They're too indistinct to be memories, but they're still strong echoes of the past; the feelings flow between them, a rush of emotion.

Amusement changes quickly to exhaustion (to the kind of numb sadness that he'd become used to living in), and he stops laughing. All feeling fades completely, from his end, like nothing had happened. ]

I suppose it must be.

I gave my soul to you, didn't I? This might be your body, not mine. Maybe you should try moving it first.

[Avery doesn't respond at first. The feeling may have faded from Ekkehardt, but it's echo sticks out like a sore thumb in Avery's memory. There's something old to it, and he finds himself wondering just how long his friend had had to deal with that exhausting sadness weighing so heavily in his chest.

For a moment, he wonders if he should bring it up. But then again, Ekkehardt wouldn't have shoved it away if he wanted to talk about it, would he?

...Well then. If Ekke was going to respect him enough not to bring up his feelings, then he'd do the same for Ekke. It was only fair.]

Right. Let's try something simple.

[It's not simple. Opening his eyes is not simple at all. It's like he's ever so slightly out of sync, connections familiar yet out of place, as if he's trapped in a suit made out of lead.

A little color slips through, blurry and dark (nighttime?), the fluttering of eyelashes.]

[ (There's something contained about it; old and pressed together. A weight in him he'd choked down and gotten used to, until he could pretend it wasn't there.

From that alone, it's easy to tell that he'd lived with it a while. But he doesn't seem to want to acknowledge it, so there it stays, like many things he's never said.)

He receives the same blurry feedback, though he's trying not to do anything, to make it easier for Avery to do...whatever it is he's doing.

He wonders if he's (they're?) still chained up. He makes a push to try and move anything, just to see if he can. ]

[He feels his fingers twitch, the tips sliding across something that feels like dirt, sides brushing against what can only be grass.]

I think we're outside. Somehow.

[It must have happened during the missing time. Not that he's about to complain. Better out in the woods than another second in that frozen room.]

Good.

[ The sense of relief at not being trapped in a prison underground any more

(rapidly flickering memories of open air and stars and bright colours, the mountains he'd loved so much)

is almost overwhelming.

He doesn't try to push them to stand, not when they can barely see, so he tries to feel around a little more, tries to look around. Trying to figure out where, exactly, they are, what the state of them is. ]

[He recognizes the land from Ekkehardt's memories and can't help but smile. He only went there a couple of times, but the zip lines in particular had made an impression. If he pictures it enough, he can almost feel the wind whipping at his face, blowing his hair back behind him.

Maybe they should visit it again sometime.]

Almost... there.

[The world's still a little blurry, but little by little it's coming into focus. It's definitely nighttime, and Avery wonders if that's why the shadows seem a little darker than usual (and why the colors of the forest seem a little off). It looks a bit like he's peering out from behind a mask (and boy it's been ages since he's worn one, hasn't it?) and he assumes they must have grabbed Ekke's mask or something while making their escape. For shone reason.

Movement still feels a little off. The two of them are definitely managing to get something done if the way the earth feels beneath him is any indication, but even so, his arms and legs feel like they're bending in a way they shouldn't.

He lifts his head, fighting the dizziness the movement brings, and looks down where his hand should be.

There's a paw there--black fur fading into white--and on instinct he tries to jerk his hand away from it, only to watch as it makes the same movement.]

[ There's a moment of quiet contentment, knowing how much Avery liked his home - somewhere precious to him. It's a small, bright spark of happiness, a warmth in his chest (in theirs).

The quiet moment is soon replaced by confusion, though, seeing what his friend sees and trying to understand it.

Maybe that's why things weren't working so well? A different body, maybe. One with paws instead of hands, and...

There's a sudden movement from somewhere behind them. Ekkehardt cranes his/their neck to see, catching a glimpse of a waving, fluffy tail. He has to resist the urge to chase it, but for a moment the desire to pursue is embarrassingly clear. ]

[Ekkehardt isn't the only one. It's only a brief instinct, and it's quickly swallowed up in a sea of panic and confusion, but it most certainly was there, especially as another joins the first.

In the end, there's only one way he can think of to express his current thoughts in words:]

Why the hell am I a freaking fox?!

Edited 2019-08-12 18:38 (UTC)

I don't know! [ He's helping! (He's not helping.) ] Nothing I read mentioned anything like this!

[ Maybe they did turn into a soul-eating monster, just not like they were supposed to? He pushes their shared body up and goes to find a source of water - or something, some reflective surface - that will shed more light on their condition.

It's so dark now. All around them, he can feel the movements of lost souls. He tries to push the sick feeling that gives him down for now. Getting a look at themselves comes first. ]

[Everything used to be so green and bright. Dangerous, yes, if you neither knew nor respected the forest itself, but beautiful and open, warm. Now everything is cold and twisted, filled with lost and frightened souls wriggling about the land like maggots infesting a corpse.

What did Vanessa do to the forest? (Or maybe it was... No. It couldn't be. Neither he nor Ekkehardt would ever do this to their home. The souls of the dead, some kind of curse, it has to be something like that).

Finding a proper, clear pool of water is more difficult than it should be. He can see the faint outline of faces in the water, screaming, desperate, and it makes his insides twist so badly that he doesn't dare linger long enough to see past them and look at their reflection. Eventually, however, they manage to find a stream, the water clear and cold--from the well, he thinks.]

I can't tell if I took after you or if it's just coincidence. Your mask certainly seems to have made itself at home.

[He turns their head from side to side to better look it over.]

[ The doubt is shared and magnified. Ekkehardt doesn't think they could have done this, would have wanted it, but- what if? There was lost time, after all.

It hurts to see the forest this way.

It's so cold. He misses the sun, the open sky, and for a moment his longing is so unhappily potent that it hurts. (He whines, and the sound that comes out is forlorn and, he thinks, pathetic.) But it fades, like everything else he feels.

He paws gently at their mask and feels it like he's touching their face. ]

Maybe it's because I was wearing it when we combined.

This is yours, though.

[ He bats at a few stray curls of spectral fur. They remind him far too much of how Avery's hair always sticks out to be coincidental. ]

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