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

[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. ]

[Yep. That's definitely him all right. Although he's not sure why they're black and white instead of brown and white...

Then again, he supposes neither of them were a fox, so the whole making sense thing is out the window at the moment.]

I can't believe this.

[He sighs heavily and watches their mismatched yellow and red eyes narrow.]

If we could just figure out what happened...

[ Part of him almost suggests going back, and is quickly and violently quashed by all the other parts, hard enough to feel in their shared body. ]

It wouldn't hurt to look around, maybe.

After all, the worst has already happened. I don't think anything else could hurt more.

[ Another brief swirl of emotions; pain, anger, a deep and bitter sense of betrayal. Another flash of memory from that lost time they both share.

--giving up his soul, it's so easy to feel those deaths, that destruction. The pain and fear of an entire kingdom soaks into the water and dyes it red, and dyes him too.

It's power that he can't control, a raging tide. Chains and ice, stone and soil, everything breaks in the face of it-- ]

[He's glad for the rejection, even contributing to it. Just the thought of going back to the manor makes him sick. He still can't wrap his head around it--how she could do that to him, how she could hurt Ekke, and Avery isn't sure what he would do if he ever saw Vanessa again.

The fact that it's fear that gnaws at his insides more than anger only cements his desire not to think of her.]

Might as well. Could be a survivor or two.

[But he doubts it. The way they look now--the unnatural, spectral quality to their form--makes him wonder if they even managed to survive at all.]

There's a tree nearby.

[The image flashes in their mind clear as day, less a tree and more an unholy union of fungi and plant stretching up toward the night sky]

Should be easy to spot the damage from up there.

[ That fear cuts through his slow-burning anger easily, leaving nothing but a sick emptiness in its wake.

To take his mind off all of it, to take their mind off all of it, he diverts attention into movement instead. And while he's not sure about wholly enjoying it, moving - once they've gotten used to it - is easy, fluid and agile in a way that no living being could easily achieve.

There's a benefit to being quadrupedal, he supposes. It's almost enjoyable, moving through the forest, the world blurring by. It seems that no time at all passes before they reach the tree, and what would have taken him a while to climb, even as an adult in the prime of his life

--it's night and he's climbing; he looks over to Avery to see him staring at the moon, and he looks so happy that he can't help but feel happy too--

seems to take no time at all before they reach the top. ]

[The memory pulls a smile out of him, and it reflects on their face (as much as it can).

Here he'd thought he was the only one who got anything out of those nights, that Ekke was just indulging him.

The sight below them is ghastly, a twisted mass of shadowy vines, soul-tainted swamps, ruins, and ice, but if he tilts their head up to look at the moon and stars, it's almost like they're children again, seated on the edge of a mountain during a foray to the Skylines, the sky wide and open for all to bear witness to.

For the first time in days, he feels a little warm.]

[ Greeted with the sight of the starry sky, he can almost believe he can hear the distant sound of the Bell, or the wind whistling through the horns on the mountain peaks.

(He answers the question left unsaid through a fleeting thought; as long as you were happy, so was I.)

Even if what remains of their home is a distorted, twisted ruin of its former self, even if they've changed so much....the stars, the moon, the sky, are still the same, and that's some comfort, at least.

He vaguely wishes he could hold Avery's hand properly. He tries anyway. ]

[Something brushes up against him--him, not them--and it would startle him if not for the warmth. It's not the same feeling as touch. There's no skin or cloth or give of flesh, but he feels the presence all the same.

It takes him a moment to return the motion, a little unsure and self conscious and all the other little feelings he'd normally hide behind a joke and a smile out on display in a way he's wholly unused to.

But he's not alone--neither of them are-- and he doesn't want to think about what it would be like if they were, if they'd even be here at all. His thoughts had grown so dark down there, and if he'd lost Ekkehardt--

"It's my fault," he'd thought. "You fool, you saw the signs and did nothing because you were too busy playing HOUSE. Look where it got you!"

Too late he realizes the memory was on display, and he mutters out a muffled apology, shoving it aside]

Edited 2019-08-13 17:25 (UTC)

[ It's odd, to have the feeling of touching someone in a way that isn't much like it at all. For a moment he thinks he's made a mistake, and there's a clear feeling of doubt that collapses into relief and an unmistakable surge of affection when Avery returns the gesture.

He's embarrassed by it, that's easy to tell, but not embarrassed enough to push it away or hide it.

He frowns at the memory, though. He curls his fingers around Avery's hand, squeezing gently. ]

You couldn't have known she'd take it that way. So you shouldn't blame yourself.

[ There's a brief pause. Guilt and sadness, shoved aside, returns; it's sudden and exhausting. He tries to push it away, but it's still noticeable. ]

And if it's anyone's fault, it's mine.

[ He'd noticed - it was impossible not to. Slow changes over time, the way he could never say no to her, had to talk her into everything. He'd acted and smiled and pushed himself just to please her; lost the things about him that Ekkehardt had always liked him for.

He'd scolded himself for it, that unhappiness (that heartbreak) he'd talked himself into not feeling. "It shouldn't matter so much to you," he'd said to himself. "As long as they're happy together, as long as he's happy, that's what matters." ]

[Heartbreak. Heartbreak.

He wouldn't have noticed it before, if they had come together in any other way. But after the cellar, after being on the receiving end, he recognizes that pain far, far too well. And it hits him like a sack of bricks.]

Don't.

[It's not Ekkehardt's fault. Not in the slightest.]

I'm an adult and I can make my own choices. It just so happens that I made several terrible ones.

[And there he was blaming himself again, and he can easily see this going in circles.]

How about we make a deal? I can't exactly write anything up, but we should be able to make do.

[ He's surprised at how vehemently Avery denies it, that much is clearly felt, but he doesn't argue about whose fault it is, for once. It's well-trodden ground, at least in his head.

He just looks away. He feels embarrassed that his feelings are laid out so obviously, after he'd spent so long hiding them. ]

I--Okay. [ He hates how childish he sounds, but everything is too vulnerable to deliberate over his words the way he's used to. ] What kind of deal would you suggest?

You want to make sure I'm not saying it's my fault, right? You cut yourself off when you start thinking that it's your fault it happened and I'll do the same. Deal?

[He lets go of Ekkehardt's hand in order to extend his own for a handshake

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