Eight

[eight-means-infinity]

↻ 𝙇𝙤𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜... ↻

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Eight held the small camera in their hands, hesitating. Was this really worth it?

Perhaps it was.

They needed to get their thoughts out.

Somehow.

Somewhere.

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Ooc: hello there! This is a genloss rp blog of my oc Eight. This account is private as Eight does not have a tumblr acc canonically, for secrecy reasons. Hereby, the posts here are mostly a character study, not meant for interaction with other characters (typically). Eight also does not accept asks from anons does accept asks from anons since recently! They know enough to be wary of those.

My main acc is @wlwdwtys btw hehe :D

HASHTAGS

#genlosers do rp - general tag of the roleplay group

#unbroken cycle - In Character posts

#oopsie daisy - Out Of Character posts

#archived memories - Diary entries

#out of hiding - IRL interactions

#flawed connection - Ask replies

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto reels at the insertion of foreign thoughts into her mind, aware that she is only so disoriented because she refused to accept them as her own. She could, she thinks, make them hers, but she knows they are not, and so they grate at her consciousness until she lets them go.]

[It is difficult to let them go. She wants to hold on, wants to stay, they can't be stuck again, trapped in a hellish semi-awareness of time passing out of their control until and unless they're dragged off into some other world to- to-- those aren't her thoughts either.]

[Not hers, and not the Author's, whose? Well, who else but her friend, who conveyed similar sentiments to her just a moment ago? This should not be happening. This cannot be happening, it simply is not possible; there is no such thing as taking turns to think and blink and breathe, or she would not have spent so very long in this room with so many others living and suffering just above her. Unless, as Eight tells her, she was simply... Unaware. And then it may have been longer, so much longer, for all of them, than they ever knew.]

[And Eight is waiting. So Otto responds, determinedly attributing the tremors to weakness.]

"I did not mean to. Per-haps I did not - may be our guest is more than able to do this to us themself."

[To them, for them; is there any difference except for intent?]

-"Guest? The fuck do you mean, guest, I didn't do shit and no one else is here!"

[Eight makes maybe a quarter of an aborted gesture to the empty room around them, before they remember they were sitting still and go back to doing that.]

[eight-means-infinity]

TW: vomit mention

[Eight blinks, and the dizzying feeling of your world being pushed, pulled and spun around finally gets to them. They pull their hand up to where their mouth is, underneath the mask, and press, letting the sharp fragments of plastic, glass and metal dig into their skin. Hell, they better not throw up right in front of their friend. That would be embarrassing. So they force down the rising bile and try to just breathe through it until the feeling settles down a little.]

[They just screamed at Otto.]

"That- that wasn't me."

[The muffled, panicked excuse flies out of Eight's mouth quicker than they can process just how right their phrasing is. It wasn't just their anger this time around. Yes, they do tend to act uncharacteristically and sporadically in those moments, but this was something else. They weren't angry. It was still their thoughts, but it's like they were flipped inside out for a moment. Inexplicably wrong.]

"I didn't mean to scream. I'm not- I'm fine. I'm not mad. At you."

[Eight raises their head, finally, and connects back up to the cameras. They tend to turn those off during moments of overwhelm.. for security. And because, you know, it's easier to focus or whatever. There are some small streaks of blood lining their chin and dripping down their neck. They don't care. But.. they should. With everything they've been going through, it's only natural that they wouldn't pay much attention to small physical details like these, and yet, physical wellbeing is the first step to reconciling mind and body, something that Eight is especially struggling with right now, for understandable reasons. It's especially important, she thinks, when the oppressor, whether that be the environment, a specific organisation, or one's own mind, is trying to take away one's autonomy, keeping what one can of it is, as such, a method of rebellion. Being overwhelmed by everything happening is perfectly normal and- could you STOP THERAPISING ME IN MY OWN BRAIN????]

[Both Otto and Eight recoil slightly from the sudden screech of Eight's interruption. Eight squints at her. Otto pointedly does not reply.]

"..Wait, what guest were you talking about?"

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

"Oh, Otto.. I find you accusing me of doing this to you quite rude indeed. I can confirm that I am not the one to blame for the chaos you caused, if that quells your worries in any measure."

[Author's voice echoes clearly around the room even before their physical form can make an appearance, like an echo from the future. And just a moment later, the air near the doorway glints and splits apart to reveal the god in all of their glory. They step forward- making sure to adjust their height to the environment properly this time- and out of the portal. The latter is sewn shut behind them.]

[Author squints and observes the situation for a second or two. Then, they frown and shake their head.]

"What a mess. The order of narration is entirely ruined! Oh, mortals! How in the worlds have you managed to use my power in such a manner, without having any prior experience with it? .. although, you do have some experience with soul magic in general, I suppose.. revival and all."

[Author's complaining is immediately interrupted by a loud screech.]

[eight-means-infinity]

"YOU!"

[Eight darts up from the ground like if somebody stuck an awl in their butt. Their breathing is heavy, and they look more enraged than Otto has ever seen them before. But this isn't the cold rage she got to witness a year back, no, this is the wild, deranged anger.]

"YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO KEEPS THROWING ME AROUND INTO DIFFERENT UNIVERSES LIKE I'M A FUCKING TOY TO YOU!"

[Author sighs.]

"Oh dear.""

[project-revival-theory]

[The concrete wall behind Otto is rough, and cool. Not cold enough to be cold, but this distinction can only be made because she has leant against it for long enough that her minimal body heat has leached into it. It was cold, earlier. Before. Otto's heartbeat slows. The wall is rough. Her brittle bones ache, though she knows that, in truth, they do not. This knowledge does not relieve her discomfort, yet. Perhaps a little longer.]

"Still." [She addresses Authr directly, unsure how to interact with the enraged Eight at her side.] "It is your soul that allowed mine to... Do what ever it is that I have done."

[No, this isn't right, is it? She doesn't have to cast the fault where it does not need to be. No one is to blame for this; she does not need to defend her innocence when every one present already knows of it.]

"Forgive me. This is no more your fault than it is mine. I do how-ever, hope that you might..." [How to phrase this? She wants to be gentle, respectful. She wants to lash out; she wants to freeze, fearing the harm, she fear that may be inflicted upon her- to them, to the old man- to the woman, no, that she calls a friend, or- no, that's me. That is me, I am myself. Otto makes a concerted effort to sort her thoughts and Eight's into distinct categories so that she may respond as herself.]

"Help us once more. I do not like this, Author."

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author's expression softens at Otto's words. Their frown becomes less prominent, and, then, morphs into a small, reassuring smile. Or, at least they try to look reassuring. In reality they look like a sly fox.]

"It is alright, do not fret. I do understand that magic can be quite unpredictable, especially during first time use. To be frank, I did not expect you to be able to do anything at all with it."

[The god completely ignores Eight's screech, not sparing even a glance towards them. Instead, they raise up a couple of their paws, seemingly preparing to manipulate.. empty air? Nonetheless, they continue speaking.]

"However, I do find it quite fascinated that you managed to move past the narrative barrier that separated both of you, not because of anger or fear, but in an attempt to reach out and comfort your friend. Accidental use of magic is common in high-emotion incidents, but that was not the case here, was it. That is quite peculiar indeed. Perhaps that says something about you."

[And then, Author is interrupted.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight's thoughts ring across the room like an invisible shockwave that only Otto seems to be able to hear. They are loud, so much louder and more invasive than before, and so clearly foreign. They scream over anything and everything, to the point where she can't even get her thoughts or actions through into Eight's turn like Eight is doing for her.]

[NO. NO! YOU DON'T GET TO IGNORE ME, YOU DON'T GET TO PRETEND LIKE I'M DIRT UNDER YOUR PAWS AFTER PUTTING ME THROUGH ALL OF THIS, FOR SO LONG. I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY FROM THIS UNSCATHED, AUTHOR. NEVER!]

[And, without even a warning, Eight lunges at the god completely recklessly. Their weight and speed is enough to knock Author off-balance, especially paired with the powerful punch right into Author's highest eye. They tumble to the floor.]

[It takes a moment for Author to regain their control over their own hands enough to try to pull Eight off of them, but in that time, Eight is absolutely merciless – punching and clawing, leaving multiple marks on their body, and one notable wound going across their face diagonally, with golden ichor dripping down slightly.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto’s first instinct is to attempt to aid the Author in distancing Eight from them, but even as she raises her arm she knows it will accomplish nothing. Eight is justified in their anger, they need this, someone, anyone to blame for the torture they’ve been put through and they will NEVER just fucking sit back and be good when THIS ASSHOLE KEEPS TRAMPLING ALL OVER THEIR LIVES AND FUCKING EVERYTHING UP EVEN WORSE, making them see things-]

[Otto’s lungs freeze and choke with the force of the rage burning through them, and she is still, silent, waiting. There is nothing she can do without directing this hatred, tempered by her own wary gratitude, towards a target who would not be impeded whatsoever by her efforts. And so she must do nothing, breathing slowly once she is able, calming herself and hoping with very little true faith that she will be able to settle her friend alongside her.]

[It is more likely that this act will only see their anger turned upon her once they become aware of it, unless they have truly changed so much. Better to at least try to appease the ire of a God, now that she knows better than to dismiss their presence as fiction.]

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author finally manages to drag Eight off of them, grabbing Eight by the hood and dangling them in the air like a kitten. Eight is still just as feisty as ever, trying to wiggle out of the god's grasp and lunge at them once more. They aren't very succesfull, especially not when Author uses the rest of their paws to pin them to the cold wall of the basement with practically no regard for their safety. Eight grunts loudly.]

"I.. excuse us for a moment, please."

[They get up from the floor and raise their free paw up to their face, seeing the golden blood. A scowl spreads on the deity's face.]

"I shall not hurt them. We will talk, is all."

[And with that, both Eight and Author dissapear in a portal, As soon as Eight is torn away from this universe, their train of thought is torn away from Otto's as well. Otto's mind is now completely and utterly her own. It's quiet. Disturbingly quiet.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Only a couple of minutes later, or so, another portal appears and Eight is pushed out. They stumble forwards, looking around in what seems to be.. fear? Not the acute fear that they've shown before, not the one that pushes a person over the edge, but a quiet horror that comes after witnessing, or learning something gruesome. They stand there, in the middle of the room, frozen for while before sort of falling onto the closest wall and sliding down.]

"..'s the middle of April. In case y'were curious. So.. half a year passed since we started talkin'. "

[The teen is quiet, carrying none of the rage they've had previously. It's a harsh contrast.]

" 'm okay. Not hurt. Sorry for.. telling you 'bout all of this. I shouldn't have."

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto takes this in, the only immediate sign that she’s heard at all a quiet wheeze as all the air leaves her lungs in a rush. Six months. Six months to hold a single conversation, as complex as it was.]

[It seems impossible until she turns her gaze upon the spot where a portal used to be, and reminds herself that this is simply not a word she can afford to use. Impossibilities are naught but a fiction that will distress her when they are disproven, these days.]

[Her mind turns to the past; her blissful ignorance. She turns it back, gently reprimanding herself. Now is not the time for such remembrance, though the time will come.]

[How her world has changed.]

“Eight.”

[Otto raises her arm, once again offering a place at her side. It does not stay up for long; only until she is certain her gesture was seen and comprehended.]

“I learned, not so long ago, that I have been here for… Many, many years. And in that time, not once was I in-formed, of the passing days. I was up-set, when I learned. Last year, so I assume.”

[Her words always come slowly, the syllables resting heavy and resistant on her tongue, but these next are still more stilted. She is not yet certain whether they are true.]

“This is… not so different.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[This time, Eight hesitates far less before shuffling over closer to Otto. They fidget with their hood strings, trying to put their thoughts into words. Without sounding mean or getting defensive again.]

"I.. guess? Not really. And- you don't gotta pretend to not be upset now. Or confused. Or any of the stuff that comes with learning.. that. You're not my parent. Not even a grandmother like the anons say."

[As much as Eight needed support, they needed somebody to support more.]

"I'm.. ugh. Listen, I don't need you to baby me, I'm not a child. And I'm not even talking from a sense of pride, it's just. I need to talk about this with somebody. Honestly. Without the pity. Just with a common understanding that we're fucked. Is that something you can do?"

[project-revival-theory]

[For the thousandth time, Otto traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes, and for the first, she wonders why it never changes. One would assume that, given decades of general disrepair, the state of a room would degrade over time. It has not.]

“You are older than you look, I know. It is hard to… Re-member, some times. My calm does not come from a lack of care, or worry, Eight.”

[She pauses here, for almost too long, testing the words before she lets them go.]

“This past year, I have seen things I can not make sense of. All I know, of what the world is, has changed time and again. More quic-kly than I would have thought my self able to endure after years of… Nothing.

“I am confused.

“Some times, I am very much afraid.

“But I have learned to accept these things as they come, as I can not change them, nor stop them changing me.”

[When the alternative is dashing one’s mind to pieces against a wall of impossibilities, trying to break magic and gods and spirits into more palatable categories of fact and science, it seems to her much safer to build a new belief system around them. These are the laws of the universe; these are mere suggestions. She is forever a monumental revelation or two behind believing she understands which is which.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Accept it. Otto has learned to accept it. Eight has not. That's the difference between them. They scowl.]

"How would you know? You haven't tried. People said that monarchy is just the way of the world. People said that racism and discrimination is just the way of the world. People have said a lot of stupid shit to stop others from doing anything about it. I don't believe that any authority, gods be damned, has the right to do this shit to us."

[Eight grits their teeth, but eventually can't take it anymore as they lift their left hand and suddenly hit the floor, on the opposite side from Otto. They lift up their hand, grimacing.]

"Eugh.. there was a moth."

[Otto sees absolutely nothing on their hand, or on the floor. Eight sees the squished corpse of a light pink moth, the same one that they are only now realising they've seen around Otto, and Charlie, and Rae, and.. Edgar and- fuck. Fuck! Eight sharply gets up from the floor.]

"Otto, I'm sorry but I can't just accept it. Not without trying to do something about it first. I know that it's stupid and reckless and a million of other things but maybe I need to be stupid and reckless before maybe eventually accepting it. I can't just- this is not me. Just accepting this would be betraying everything I've ever stood for. I'd rather fucking die than let anybody, especially an arrogant, cruel, self-indulgent god, or gods- There are multiple of them, you know? I've talked to them. They mocked me. I intend to deprive them of that satisfaction. I can't kill them, but I can take what they value away. This story. It's not like there's much point to my life anyways, I might as well spend it doing something useful, for once."

[Eight looks.. a little odd. There are clearly a lot of very conflicting feelings bubbling up inside them, since they look like they're either about to break down crying, laugh maniacally, scream or just shut down entirely. So far they're not doing either, but.. Something's brewing. They are going to do something really stupid.]

"You've felt what I feel. Can you blame me?"

[project-revival-theory]

[An uncomfortably familiar sentiment rears its head during their speech. Otto hears her own voice, younger, weaker, and dripping with sonic resentment that it spills back into itself as something like grief.]

[This life, this world, is worthless; why should I continue to exist as a faulty tool when my death, if it takes this time, could accomplish so much more? Let me die to frustrate them, let me rot if it slows their progress, let me out.]

[And Otto finds, within the building dread and terrible understanding in their chest, that for the first time in a very, very long time, she may just have to do something stupid first. Something she knows is pointless, and impulsive, and dangerous. Something that in any other moment she would have talked herself out of before she ever said a word.]

“If what you say is true, there is no you to blame.”

[She speaks with little of the tenderness she feels, always, when it comes to the being of anger and fear that is Eight.]

“Either is a story, and you are not real, and your rage is not real… Or this is life, and we must live it as we can.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight spaces out, again, temporarily going back to the state that Otto has seen them in before this interaction. And then, in a moment, they're back. As their gaze refocuses of Otto, they find themselves.. cackling.]

"You know, it's ironic. It's really fucking ironic. Because now I know that you know exactly how I feel. They- they sent me to talk to your younger self. God he's an ass. And also the most enjoyable conversation I've had in months!"

[Eight buries their fave in their hands, letting the shards of metal and glass dig deeper into their skin.]

"Whether I'm real or not, I know what the gods want. They want a story. More than that, I know which type of story they want- mine keeps throwing me into all of these different universes, but the only common thread between them is that I get out of Showfall, through one mean or another. Usually with somebody, or for somebody, but the point is, they want me to heal. And every time I finally gain my freedom, my life, I end up right back here, alone and trapped. It's cruel, don't you think? At least it's useful. I know what the gods want: a wholesome story about freedom and healing. They can. Eat. Shit!"

[Eight lowers their hands, now stained with a bit of blood.]

"I don't know why my writer is allowing this. Maybe they're a masochist. Maybe they just hate the other gods. But as long as I have the opportunity to do so, I'll smash their goddamn story to pieces. Plus.. how do I know that it's not just your author speaking through you, trying to convince me not to go through with this?"

[Despite everything, Eight moves forward, approaching the door that will lead them out of Otto's room. For.. probably the last time.]

"One day, maybe I will turn out like you. Kind, brave, strong, peaceful. But for now, I'll be myself. So.. stay safe, Otto. Because I won't."

[Eight leaves the room and closes the door behind them.]

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto reels at the insertion of foreign thoughts into her mind, aware that she is only so disoriented because she refused to accept them as her own. She could, she thinks, make them hers, but she knows they are not, and so they grate at her consciousness until she lets them go.]

[It is difficult to let them go. She wants to hold on, wants to stay, they can't be stuck again, trapped in a hellish semi-awareness of time passing out of their control until and unless they're dragged off into some other world to- to-- those aren't her thoughts either.]

[Not hers, and not the Author's, whose? Well, who else but her friend, who conveyed similar sentiments to her just a moment ago? This should not be happening. This cannot be happening, it simply is not possible; there is no such thing as taking turns to think and blink and breathe, or she would not have spent so very long in this room with so many others living and suffering just above her. Unless, as Eight tells her, she was simply... Unaware. And then it may have been longer, so much longer, for all of them, than they ever knew.]

[And Eight is waiting. So Otto responds, determinedly attributing the tremors to weakness.]

"I did not mean to. Per-haps I did not - may be our guest is more than able to do this to us themself."

[To them, for them; is there any difference except for intent?]

-"Guest? The fuck do you mean, guest, I didn't do shit and no one else is here!"

[Eight makes maybe a quarter of an aborted gesture to the empty room around them, before they remember they were sitting still and go back to doing that.]

[eight-means-infinity]

TW: vomit mention

[Eight blinks, and the dizzying feeling of your world being pushed, pulled and spun around finally gets to them. They pull their hand up to where their mouth is, underneath the mask, and press, letting the sharp fragments of plastic, glass and metal dig into their skin. Hell, they better not throw up right in front of their friend. That would be embarrassing. So they force down the rising bile and try to just breathe through it until the feeling settles down a little.]

[They just screamed at Otto.]

"That- that wasn't me."

[The muffled, panicked excuse flies out of Eight's mouth quicker than they can process just how right their phrasing is. It wasn't just their anger this time around. Yes, they do tend to act uncharacteristically and sporadically in those moments, but this was something else. They weren't angry. It was still their thoughts, but it's like they were flipped inside out for a moment. Inexplicably wrong.]

"I didn't mean to scream. I'm not- I'm fine. I'm not mad. At you."

[Eight raises their head, finally, and connects back up to the cameras. They tend to turn those off during moments of overwhelm.. for security. And because, you know, it's easier to focus or whatever. There are some small streaks of blood lining their chin and dripping down their neck. They don't care. But.. they should. With everything they've been going through, it's only natural that they wouldn't pay much attention to small physical details like these, and yet, physical wellbeing is the first step to reconciling mind and body, something that Eight is especially struggling with right now, for understandable reasons. It's especially important, she thinks, when the oppressor, whether that be the environment, a specific organisation, or one's own mind, is trying to take away one's autonomy, keeping what one can of it is, as such, a method of rebellion. Being overwhelmed by everything happening is perfectly normal and- could you STOP THERAPISING ME IN MY OWN BRAIN????]

[Both Otto and Eight recoil slightly from the sudden screech of Eight's interruption. Eight squints at her. Otto pointedly does not reply.]

"..Wait, what guest were you talking about?"

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

"Oh, Otto.. I find you accusing me of doing this to you quite rude indeed. I can confirm that I am not the one to blame for the chaos you caused, if that quells your worries in any measure."

[Author's voice echoes clearly around the room even before their physical form can make an appearance, like an echo from the future. And just a moment later, the air near the doorway glints and splits apart to reveal the god in all of their glory. They step forward- making sure to adjust their height to the environment properly this time- and out of the portal. The latter is sewn shut behind them.]

[Author squints and observes the situation for a second or two. Then, they frown and shake their head.]

"What a mess. The order of narration is entirely ruined! Oh, mortals! How in the worlds have you managed to use my power in such a manner, without having any prior experience with it? .. although, you do have some experience with soul magic in general, I suppose.. revival and all."

[Author's complaining is immediately interrupted by a loud screech.]

[eight-means-infinity]

"YOU!"

[Eight darts up from the ground like if somebody stuck an awl in their butt. Their breathing is heavy, and they look more enraged than Otto has ever seen them before. But this isn't the cold rage she got to witness a year back, no, this is the wild, deranged anger.]

"YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO KEEPS THROWING ME AROUND INTO DIFFERENT UNIVERSES LIKE I'M A FUCKING TOY TO YOU!"

[Author sighs.]

"Oh dear.""

[project-revival-theory]

[The concrete wall behind Otto is rough, and cool. Not cold enough to be cold, but this distinction can only be made because she has leant against it for long enough that her minimal body heat has leached into it. It was cold, earlier. Before. Otto's heartbeat slows. The wall is rough. Her brittle bones ache, though she knows that, in truth, they do not. This knowledge does not relieve her discomfort, yet. Perhaps a little longer.]

"Still." [She addresses Authr directly, unsure how to interact with the enraged Eight at her side.] "It is your soul that allowed mine to... Do what ever it is that I have done."

[No, this isn't right, is it? She doesn't have to cast the fault where it does not need to be. No one is to blame for this; she does not need to defend her innocence when every one present already knows of it.]

"Forgive me. This is no more your fault than it is mine. I do how-ever, hope that you might..." [How to phrase this? She wants to be gentle, respectful. She wants to lash out; she wants to freeze, fearing the harm, she fear that may be inflicted upon her- to them, to the old man- to the woman, no, that she calls a friend, or- no, that's me. That is me, I am myself. Otto makes a concerted effort to sort her thoughts and Eight's into distinct categories so that she may respond as herself.]

"Help us once more. I do not like this, Author."

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author's expression softens at Otto's words. Their frown becomes less prominent, and, then, morphs into a small, reassuring smile. Or, at least they try to look reassuring. In reality they look like a sly fox.]

"It is alright, do not fret. I do understand that magic can be quite unpredictable, especially during first time use. To be frank, I did not expect you to be able to do anything at all with it."

[The god completely ignores Eight's screech, not sparing even a glance towards them. Instead, they raise up a couple of their paws, seemingly preparing to manipulate.. empty air? Nonetheless, they continue speaking.]

"However, I do find it quite fascinated that you managed to move past the narrative barrier that separated both of you, not because of anger or fear, but in an attempt to reach out and comfort your friend. Accidental use of magic is common in high-emotion incidents, but that was not the case here, was it. That is quite peculiar indeed. Perhaps that says something about you."

[And then, Author is interrupted.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight's thoughts ring across the room like an invisible shockwave that only Otto seems to be able to hear. They are loud, so much louder and more invasive than before, and so clearly foreign. They scream over anything and everything, to the point where she can't even get her thoughts or actions through into Eight's turn like Eight is doing for her.]

[NO. NO! YOU DON'T GET TO IGNORE ME, YOU DON'T GET TO PRETEND LIKE I'M DIRT UNDER YOUR PAWS AFTER PUTTING ME THROUGH ALL OF THIS, FOR SO LONG. I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY FROM THIS UNSCATHED, AUTHOR. NEVER!]

[And, without even a warning, Eight lunges at the god completely recklessly. Their weight and speed is enough to knock Author off-balance, especially paired with the powerful punch right into Author's highest eye. They tumble to the floor.]

[It takes a moment for Author to regain their control over their own hands enough to try to pull Eight off of them, but in that time, Eight is absolutely merciless – punching and clawing, leaving multiple marks on their body, and one notable wound going across their face diagonally, with golden ichor dripping down slightly.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto’s first instinct is to attempt to aid the Author in distancing Eight from them, but even as she raises her arm she knows it will accomplish nothing. Eight is justified in their anger, they need this, someone, anyone to blame for the torture they’ve been put through and they will NEVER just fucking sit back and be good when THIS ASSHOLE KEEPS TRAMPLING ALL OVER THEIR LIVES AND FUCKING EVERYTHING UP EVEN WORSE, making them see things-]

[Otto’s lungs freeze and choke with the force of the rage burning through them, and she is still, silent, waiting. There is nothing she can do without directing this hatred, tempered by her own wary gratitude, towards a target who would not be impeded whatsoever by her efforts. And so she must do nothing, breathing slowly once she is able, calming herself and hoping with very little true faith that she will be able to settle her friend alongside her.]

[It is more likely that this act will only see their anger turned upon her once they become aware of it, unless they have truly changed so much. Better to at least try to appease the ire of a God, now that she knows better than to dismiss their presence as fiction.]

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author finally manages to drag Eight off of them, grabbing Eight by the hood and dangling them in the air like a kitten. Eight is still just as feisty as ever, trying to wiggle out of the god's grasp and lunge at them once more. They aren't very succesfull, especially not when Author uses the rest of their paws to pin them to the cold wall of the basement with practically no regard for their safety. Eight grunts loudly.]

"I.. excuse us for a moment, please."

[They get up from the floor and raise their free paw up to their face, seeing the golden blood. A scowl spreads on the deity's face.]

"I shall not hurt them. We will talk, is all."

[And with that, both Eight and Author dissapear in a portal, As soon as Eight is torn away from this universe, their train of thought is torn away from Otto's as well. Otto's mind is now completely and utterly her own. It's quiet. Disturbingly quiet.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Only a couple of minutes later, or so, another portal appears and Eight is pushed out. They stumble forwards, looking around in what seems to be.. fear? Not the acute fear that they've shown before, not the one that pushes a person over the edge, but a quiet horror that comes after witnessing, or learning something gruesome. They stand there, in the middle of the room, frozen for while before sort of falling onto the closest wall and sliding down.]

"..'s the middle of April. In case y'were curious. So.. half a year passed since we started talkin'. "

[The teen is quiet, carrying none of the rage they've had previously. It's a harsh contrast.]

" 'm okay. Not hurt. Sorry for.. telling you 'bout all of this. I shouldn't have."

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto takes this in, the only immediate sign that she’s heard at all a quiet wheeze as all the air leaves her lungs in a rush. Six months. Six months to hold a single conversation, as complex as it was.]

[It seems impossible until she turns her gaze upon the spot where a portal used to be, and reminds herself that this is simply not a word she can afford to use. Impossibilities are naught but a fiction that will distress her when they are disproven, these days.]

[Her mind turns to the past; her blissful ignorance. She turns it back, gently reprimanding herself. Now is not the time for such remembrance, though the time will come.]

[How her world has changed.]

“Eight.”

[Otto raises her arm, once again offering a place at her side. It does not stay up for long; only until she is certain her gesture was seen and comprehended.]

“I learned, not so long ago, that I have been here for… Many, many years. And in that time, not once was I in-formed, of the passing days. I was up-set, when I learned. Last year, so I assume.”

[Her words always come slowly, the syllables resting heavy and resistant on her tongue, but these next are still more stilted. She is not yet certain whether they are true.]

“This is… not so different.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[This time, Eight hesitates far less before shuffling over closer to Otto. They fidget with their hood strings, trying to put their thoughts into words. Without sounding mean or getting defensive again.]

"I.. guess? Not really. And- you don't gotta pretend to not be upset now. Or confused. Or any of the stuff that comes with learning.. that. You're not my parent. Not even a grandmother like the anons say."

[As much as Eight needed support, they needed somebody to support more.]

"I'm.. ugh. Listen, I don't need you to baby me, I'm not a child. And I'm not even talking from a sense of pride, it's just. I need to talk about this with somebody. Honestly. Without the pity. Just with a common understanding that we're fucked. Is that something you can do?"

[project-revival-theory]

[For the thousandth time, Otto traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes, and for the first, she wonders why it never changes. One would assume that, given decades of general disrepair, the state of a room would degrade over time. It has not.]

“You are older than you look, I know. It is hard to… Re-member, some times. My calm does not come from a lack of care, or worry, Eight.”

[She pauses here, for almost too long, testing the words before she lets them go.]

“This past year, I have seen things I can not make sense of. All I know, of what the world is, has changed time and again. More quic-kly than I would have thought my self able to endure after years of… Nothing.

“I am confused.

“Some times, I am very much afraid.

“But I have learned to accept these things as they come, as I can not change them, nor stop them changing me.”

[When the alternative is dashing one’s mind to pieces against a wall of impossibilities, trying to break magic and gods and spirits into more palatable categories of fact and science, it seems to her much safer to build a new belief system around them. These are the laws of the universe; these are mere suggestions. She is forever a monumental revelation or two behind believing she understands which is which.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Accept it. Otto has learned to accept it. Eight has not. That's the difference between them. They scowl.]

"How would you know? You haven't tried. People said that monarchy is just the way of the world. People said that racism and discrimination is just the way of the world. People have said a lot of stupid shit to stop others from doing anything about it. I don't believe that any authority, gods be damned, has the right to do this shit to us."

[Eight grits their teeth, but eventually can't take it anymore as they lift their left hand and suddenly hit the floor, on the opposite side from Otto. They lift up their hand, grimacing.]

"Eugh.. there was a moth."

[Otto sees absolutely nothing on their hand, or on the floor. Eight sees the squished corpse of a light pink moth, the same one that they are only now realising they've seen around Otto, and Charlie, and Rae, and.. Edgar and- fuck. Fuck! Eight sharply gets up from the floor.]

"Otto, I'm sorry but I can't just accept it. Not without trying to do something about it first. I know that it's stupid and reckless and a million of other things but maybe I need to be stupid and reckless before maybe eventually accepting it. I can't just- this is not me. Just accepting this would be betraying everything I've ever stood for. I'd rather fucking die than let anybody, especially an arrogant, cruel, self-indulgent god, or gods- There are multiple of them, you know? I've talked to them. They mocked me. I intend to deprive them of that satisfaction. I can't kill them, but I can take what they value away. This story. It's not like there's much point to my life anyways, I might as well spend it doing something useful, for once."

[Eight looks.. a little odd. There are clearly a lot of very conflicting feelings bubbling up inside them, since they look like they're either about to break down crying, laugh maniacally, scream or just shut down entirely. So far they're not doing either, but.. Something's brewing. They are going to do something really stupid.]

"You've felt what I feel. Can you blame me?"

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto reels at the insertion of foreign thoughts into her mind, aware that she is only so disoriented because she refused to accept them as her own. She could, she thinks, make them hers, but she knows they are not, and so they grate at her consciousness until she lets them go.]

[It is difficult to let them go. She wants to hold on, wants to stay, they can't be stuck again, trapped in a hellish semi-awareness of time passing out of their control until and unless they're dragged off into some other world to- to-- those aren't her thoughts either.]

[Not hers, and not the Author's, whose? Well, who else but her friend, who conveyed similar sentiments to her just a moment ago? This should not be happening. This cannot be happening, it simply is not possible; there is no such thing as taking turns to think and blink and breathe, or she would not have spent so very long in this room with so many others living and suffering just above her. Unless, as Eight tells her, she was simply... Unaware. And then it may have been longer, so much longer, for all of them, than they ever knew.]

[And Eight is waiting. So Otto responds, determinedly attributing the tremors to weakness.]

"I did not mean to. Per-haps I did not - may be our guest is more than able to do this to us themself."

[To them, for them; is there any difference except for intent?]

-"Guest? The fuck do you mean, guest, I didn't do shit and no one else is here!"

[Eight makes maybe a quarter of an aborted gesture to the empty room around them, before they remember they were sitting still and go back to doing that.]

[eight-means-infinity]

TW: vomit mention

[Eight blinks, and the dizzying feeling of your world being pushed, pulled and spun around finally gets to them. They pull their hand up to where their mouth is, underneath the mask, and press, letting the sharp fragments of plastic, glass and metal dig into their skin. Hell, they better not throw up right in front of their friend. That would be embarrassing. So they force down the rising bile and try to just breathe through it until the feeling settles down a little.]

[They just screamed at Otto.]

"That- that wasn't me."

[The muffled, panicked excuse flies out of Eight's mouth quicker than they can process just how right their phrasing is. It wasn't just their anger this time around. Yes, they do tend to act uncharacteristically and sporadically in those moments, but this was something else. They weren't angry. It was still their thoughts, but it's like they were flipped inside out for a moment. Inexplicably wrong.]

"I didn't mean to scream. I'm not- I'm fine. I'm not mad. At you."

[Eight raises their head, finally, and connects back up to the cameras. They tend to turn those off during moments of overwhelm.. for security. And because, you know, it's easier to focus or whatever. There are some small streaks of blood lining their chin and dripping down their neck. They don't care. But.. they should. With everything they've been going through, it's only natural that they wouldn't pay much attention to small physical details like these, and yet, physical wellbeing is the first step to reconciling mind and body, something that Eight is especially struggling with right now, for understandable reasons. It's especially important, she thinks, when the oppressor, whether that be the environment, a specific organisation, or one's own mind, is trying to take away one's autonomy, keeping what one can of it is, as such, a method of rebellion. Being overwhelmed by everything happening is perfectly normal and- could you STOP THERAPISING ME IN MY OWN BRAIN????]

[Both Otto and Eight recoil slightly from the sudden screech of Eight's interruption. Eight squints at her. Otto pointedly does not reply.]

"..Wait, what guest were you talking about?"

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

"Oh, Otto.. I find you accusing me of doing this to you quite rude indeed. I can confirm that I am not the one to blame for the chaos you caused, if that quells your worries in any measure."

[Author's voice echoes clearly around the room even before their physical form can make an appearance, like an echo from the future. And just a moment later, the air near the doorway glints and splits apart to reveal the god in all of their glory. They step forward- making sure to adjust their height to the environment properly this time- and out of the portal. The latter is sewn shut behind them.]

[Author squints and observes the situation for a second or two. Then, they frown and shake their head.]

"What a mess. The order of narration is entirely ruined! Oh, mortals! How in the worlds have you managed to use my power in such a manner, without having any prior experience with it? .. although, you do have some experience with soul magic in general, I suppose.. revival and all."

[Author's complaining is immediately interrupted by a loud screech.]

[eight-means-infinity]

"YOU!"

[Eight darts up from the ground like if somebody stuck an awl in their butt. Their breathing is heavy, and they look more enraged than Otto has ever seen them before. But this isn't the cold rage she got to witness a year back, no, this is the wild, deranged anger.]

"YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO KEEPS THROWING ME AROUND INTO DIFFERENT UNIVERSES LIKE I'M A FUCKING TOY TO YOU!"

[Author sighs.]

"Oh dear.""

[project-revival-theory]

[The concrete wall behind Otto is rough, and cool. Not cold enough to be cold, but this distinction can only be made because she has leant against it for long enough that her minimal body heat has leached into it. It was cold, earlier. Before. Otto's heartbeat slows. The wall is rough. Her brittle bones ache, though she knows that, in truth, they do not. This knowledge does not relieve her discomfort, yet. Perhaps a little longer.]

"Still." [She addresses Authr directly, unsure how to interact with the enraged Eight at her side.] "It is your soul that allowed mine to... Do what ever it is that I have done."

[No, this isn't right, is it? She doesn't have to cast the fault where it does not need to be. No one is to blame for this; she does not need to defend her innocence when every one present already knows of it.]

"Forgive me. This is no more your fault than it is mine. I do how-ever, hope that you might..." [How to phrase this? She wants to be gentle, respectful. She wants to lash out; she wants to freeze, fearing the harm, she fear that may be inflicted upon her- to them, to the old man- to the woman, no, that she calls a friend, or- no, that's me. That is me, I am myself. Otto makes a concerted effort to sort her thoughts and Eight's into distinct categories so that she may respond as herself.]

"Help us once more. I do not like this, Author."

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author's expression softens at Otto's words. Their frown becomes less prominent, and, then, morphs into a small, reassuring smile. Or, at least they try to look reassuring. In reality they look like a sly fox.]

"It is alright, do not fret. I do understand that magic can be quite unpredictable, especially during first time use. To be frank, I did not expect you to be able to do anything at all with it."

[The god completely ignores Eight's screech, not sparing even a glance towards them. Instead, they raise up a couple of their paws, seemingly preparing to manipulate.. empty air? Nonetheless, they continue speaking.]

"However, I do find it quite fascinated that you managed to move past the narrative barrier that separated both of you, not because of anger or fear, but in an attempt to reach out and comfort your friend. Accidental use of magic is common in high-emotion incidents, but that was not the case here, was it. That is quite peculiar indeed. Perhaps that says something about you."

[And then, Author is interrupted.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight's thoughts ring across the room like an invisible shockwave that only Otto seems to be able to hear. They are loud, so much louder and more invasive than before, and so clearly foreign. They scream over anything and everything, to the point where she can't even get her thoughts or actions through into Eight's turn like Eight is doing for her.]

[NO. NO! YOU DON'T GET TO IGNORE ME, YOU DON'T GET TO PRETEND LIKE I'M DIRT UNDER YOUR PAWS AFTER PUTTING ME THROUGH ALL OF THIS, FOR SO LONG. I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY FROM THIS UNSCATHED, AUTHOR. NEVER!]

[And, without even a warning, Eight lunges at the god completely recklessly. Their weight and speed is enough to knock Author off-balance, especially paired with the powerful punch right into Author's highest eye. They tumble to the floor.]

[It takes a moment for Author to regain their control over their own hands enough to try to pull Eight off of them, but in that time, Eight is absolutely merciless – punching and clawing, leaving multiple marks on their body, and one notable wound going across their face diagonally, with golden ichor dripping down slightly.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto’s first instinct is to attempt to aid the Author in distancing Eight from them, but even as she raises her arm she knows it will accomplish nothing. Eight is justified in their anger, they need this, someone, anyone to blame for the torture they’ve been put through and they will NEVER just fucking sit back and be good when THIS ASSHOLE KEEPS TRAMPLING ALL OVER THEIR LIVES AND FUCKING EVERYTHING UP EVEN WORSE, making them see things-]

[Otto’s lungs freeze and choke with the force of the rage burning through them, and she is still, silent, waiting. There is nothing she can do without directing this hatred, tempered by her own wary gratitude, towards a target who would not be impeded whatsoever by her efforts. And so she must do nothing, breathing slowly once she is able, calming herself and hoping with very little true faith that she will be able to settle her friend alongside her.]

[It is more likely that this act will only see their anger turned upon her once they become aware of it, unless they have truly changed so much. Better to at least try to appease the ire of a God, now that she knows better than to dismiss their presence as fiction.]

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author finally manages to drag Eight off of them, grabbing Eight by the hood and dangling them in the air like a kitten. Eight is still just as feisty as ever, trying to wiggle out of the god's grasp and lunge at them once more. They aren't very succesfull, especially not when Author uses the rest of their paws to pin them to the cold wall of the basement with practically no regard for their safety. Eight grunts loudly.]

"I.. excuse us for a moment, please."

[They get up from the floor and raise their free paw up to their face, seeing the golden blood. A scowl spreads on the deity's face.]

"I shall not hurt them. We will talk, is all."

[And with that, both Eight and Author dissapear in a portal, As soon as Eight is torn away from this universe, their train of thought is torn away from Otto's as well. Otto's mind is now completely and utterly her own. It's quiet. Disturbingly quiet.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Only a couple of minutes later, or so, another portal appears and Eight is pushed out. They stumble forwards, looking around in what seems to be.. fear? Not the acute fear that they've shown before, not the one that pushes a person over the edge, but a quiet horror that comes after witnessing, or learning something gruesome. They stand there, in the middle of the room, frozen for while before sort of falling onto the closest wall and sliding down.]

"..'s the middle of April. In case y'were curious. So.. half a year passed since we started talkin'. "

[The teen is quiet, carrying none of the rage they've had previously. It's a harsh contrast.]

" 'm okay. Not hurt. Sorry for.. telling you 'bout all of this. I shouldn't have."

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto takes this in, the only immediate sign that she’s heard at all a quiet wheeze as all the air leaves her lungs in a rush. Six months. Six months to hold a single conversation, as complex as it was.]

[It seems impossible until she turns her gaze upon the spot where a portal used to be, and reminds herself that this is simply not a word she can afford to use. Impossibilities are naught but a fiction that will distress her when they are disproven, these days.]

[Her mind turns to the past; her blissful ignorance. She turns it back, gently reprimanding herself. Now is not the time for such remembrance, though the time will come.]

[How her world has changed.]

“Eight.”

[Otto raises her arm, once again offering a place at her side. It does not stay up for long; only until she is certain her gesture was seen and comprehended.]

“I learned, not so long ago, that I have been here for… Many, many years. And in that time, not once was I in-formed, of the passing days. I was up-set, when I learned. Last year, so I assume.”

[Her words always come slowly, the syllables resting heavy and resistant on her tongue, but these next are still more stilted. She is not yet certain whether they are true.]

“This is… not so different.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[This time, Eight hesitates far less before shuffling over closer to Otto. They fidget with their hood strings, trying to put their thoughts into words. Without sounding mean or getting defensive again.]

"I.. guess? Not really. And- you don't gotta pretend to not be upset now. Or confused. Or any of the stuff that comes with learning.. that. You're not my parent. Not even a grandmother like the anons say."

[As much as Eight needed support, they needed somebody to support more.]

"I'm.. ugh. Listen, I don't need you to baby me, I'm not a child. And I'm not even talking from a sense of pride, it's just. I need to talk about this with somebody. Honestly. Without the pity. Just with a common understanding that we're fucked. Is that something you can do?"

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto reels at the insertion of foreign thoughts into her mind, aware that she is only so disoriented because she refused to accept them as her own. She could, she thinks, make them hers, but she knows they are not, and so they grate at her consciousness until she lets them go.]

[It is difficult to let them go. She wants to hold on, wants to stay, they can't be stuck again, trapped in a hellish semi-awareness of time passing out of their control until and unless they're dragged off into some other world to- to-- those aren't her thoughts either.]

[Not hers, and not the Author's, whose? Well, who else but her friend, who conveyed similar sentiments to her just a moment ago? This should not be happening. This cannot be happening, it simply is not possible; there is no such thing as taking turns to think and blink and breathe, or she would not have spent so very long in this room with so many others living and suffering just above her. Unless, as Eight tells her, she was simply... Unaware. And then it may have been longer, so much longer, for all of them, than they ever knew.]

[And Eight is waiting. So Otto responds, determinedly attributing the tremors to weakness.]

"I did not mean to. Per-haps I did not - may be our guest is more than able to do this to us themself."

[To them, for them; is there any difference except for intent?]

-"Guest? The fuck do you mean, guest, I didn't do shit and no one else is here!"

[Eight makes maybe a quarter of an aborted gesture to the empty room around them, before they remember they were sitting still and go back to doing that.]

[eight-means-infinity]

TW: vomit mention

[Eight blinks, and the dizzying feeling of your world being pushed, pulled and spun around finally gets to them. They pull their hand up to where their mouth is, underneath the mask, and press, letting the sharp fragments of plastic, glass and metal dig into their skin. Hell, they better not throw up right in front of their friend. That would be embarrassing. So they force down the rising bile and try to just breathe through it until the feeling settles down a little.]

[They just screamed at Otto.]

"That- that wasn't me."

[The muffled, panicked excuse flies out of Eight's mouth quicker than they can process just how right their phrasing is. It wasn't just their anger this time around. Yes, they do tend to act uncharacteristically and sporadically in those moments, but this was something else. They weren't angry. It was still their thoughts, but it's like they were flipped inside out for a moment. Inexplicably wrong.]

"I didn't mean to scream. I'm not- I'm fine. I'm not mad. At you."

[Eight raises their head, finally, and connects back up to the cameras. They tend to turn those off during moments of overwhelm.. for security. And because, you know, it's easier to focus or whatever. There are some small streaks of blood lining their chin and dripping down their neck. They don't care. But.. they should. With everything they've been going through, it's only natural that they wouldn't pay much attention to small physical details like these, and yet, physical wellbeing is the first step to reconciling mind and body, something that Eight is especially struggling with right now, for understandable reasons. It's especially important, she thinks, when the oppressor, whether that be the environment, a specific organisation, or one's own mind, is trying to take away one's autonomy, keeping what one can of it is, as such, a method of rebellion. Being overwhelmed by everything happening is perfectly normal and- could you STOP THERAPISING ME IN MY OWN BRAIN????]

[Both Otto and Eight recoil slightly from the sudden screech of Eight's interruption. Eight squints at her. Otto pointedly does not reply.]

"..Wait, what guest were you talking about?"

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

"Oh, Otto.. I find you accusing me of doing this to you quite rude indeed. I can confirm that I am not the one to blame for the chaos you caused, if that quells your worries in any measure."

[Author's voice echoes clearly around the room even before their physical form can make an appearance, like an echo from the future. And just a moment later, the air near the doorway glints and splits apart to reveal the god in all of their glory. They step forward- making sure to adjust their height to the environment properly this time- and out of the portal. The latter is sewn shut behind them.]

[Author squints and observes the situation for a second or two. Then, they frown and shake their head.]

"What a mess. The order of narration is entirely ruined! Oh, mortals! How in the worlds have you managed to use my power in such a manner, without having any prior experience with it? .. although, you do have some experience with soul magic in general, I suppose.. revival and all."

[Author's complaining is immediately interrupted by a loud screech.]

[eight-means-infinity]

"YOU!"

[Eight darts up from the ground like if somebody stuck an awl in their butt. Their breathing is heavy, and they look more enraged than Otto has ever seen them before. But this isn't the cold rage she got to witness a year back, no, this is the wild, deranged anger.]

"YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO KEEPS THROWING ME AROUND INTO DIFFERENT UNIVERSES LIKE I'M A FUCKING TOY TO YOU!"

[Author sighs.]

"Oh dear.""

[project-revival-theory]

[The concrete wall behind Otto is rough, and cool. Not cold enough to be cold, but this distinction can only be made because she has leant against it for long enough that her minimal body heat has leached into it. It was cold, earlier. Before. Otto's heartbeat slows. The wall is rough. Her brittle bones ache, though she knows that, in truth, they do not. This knowledge does not relieve her discomfort, yet. Perhaps a little longer.]

"Still." [She addresses Authr directly, unsure how to interact with the enraged Eight at her side.] "It is your soul that allowed mine to... Do what ever it is that I have done."

[No, this isn't right, is it? She doesn't have to cast the fault where it does not need to be. No one is to blame for this; she does not need to defend her innocence when every one present already knows of it.]

"Forgive me. This is no more your fault than it is mine. I do how-ever, hope that you might..." [How to phrase this? She wants to be gentle, respectful. She wants to lash out; she wants to freeze, fearing the harm, she fear that may be inflicted upon her- to them, to the old man- to the woman, no, that she calls a friend, or- no, that's me. That is me, I am myself. Otto makes a concerted effort to sort her thoughts and Eight's into distinct categories so that she may respond as herself.]

"Help us once more. I do not like this, Author."

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author's expression softens at Otto's words. Their frown becomes less prominent, and, then, morphs into a small, reassuring smile. Or, at least they try to look reassuring. In reality they look like a sly fox.]

"It is alright, do not fret. I do understand that magic can be quite unpredictable, especially during first time use. To be frank, I did not expect you to be able to do anything at all with it."

[The god completely ignores Eight's screech, not sparing even a glance towards them. Instead, they raise up a couple of their paws, seemingly preparing to manipulate.. empty air? Nonetheless, they continue speaking.]

"However, I do find it quite fascinated that you managed to move past the narrative barrier that separated both of you, not because of anger or fear, but in an attempt to reach out and comfort your friend. Accidental use of magic is common in high-emotion incidents, but that was not the case here, was it. That is quite peculiar indeed. Perhaps that says something about you."

[And then, Author is interrupted.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight's thoughts ring across the room like an invisible shockwave that only Otto seems to be able to hear. They are loud, so much louder and more invasive than before, and so clearly foreign. They scream over anything and everything, to the point where she can't even get her thoughts or actions through into Eight's turn like Eight is doing for her.]

[NO. NO! YOU DON'T GET TO IGNORE ME, YOU DON'T GET TO PRETEND LIKE I'M DIRT UNDER YOUR PAWS AFTER PUTTING ME THROUGH ALL OF THIS, FOR SO LONG. I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY FROM THIS UNSCATHED, AUTHOR. NEVER!]

[And, without even a warning, Eight lunges at the god completely recklessly. Their weight and speed is enough to knock Author off-balance, especially paired with the powerful punch right into Author's highest eye. They tumble to the floor.]

[It takes a moment for Author to regain their control over their own hands enough to try to pull Eight off of them, but in that time, Eight is absolutely merciless – punching and clawing, leaving multiple marks on their body, and one notable wound going across their face diagonally, with golden ichor dripping down slightly.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto’s first instinct is to attempt to aid the Author in distancing Eight from them, but even as she raises her arm she knows it will accomplish nothing. Eight is justified in their anger, they need this, someone, anyone to blame for the torture they’ve been put through and they will NEVER just fucking sit back and be good when THIS ASSHOLE KEEPS TRAMPLING ALL OVER THEIR LIVES AND FUCKING EVERYTHING UP EVEN WORSE, making them see things-]

[Otto’s lungs freeze and choke with the force of the rage burning through them, and she is still, silent, waiting. There is nothing she can do without directing this hatred, tempered by her own wary gratitude, towards a target who would not be impeded whatsoever by her efforts. And so she must do nothing, breathing slowly once she is able, calming herself and hoping with very little true faith that she will be able to settle her friend alongside her.]

[It is more likely that this act will only see their anger turned upon her once they become aware of it, unless they have truly changed so much. Better to at least try to appease the ire of a God, now that she knows better than to dismiss their presence as fiction.]

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author finally manages to drag Eight off of them, grabbing Eight by the hood and dangling them in the air like a kitten. Eight is still just as feisty as ever, trying to wiggle out of the god's grasp and lunge at them once more. They aren't very succesfull, especially not when Author uses the rest of their paws to pin them to the cold wall of the basement with practically no regard for their safety. Eight grunts loudly.]

"I.. excuse us for a moment, please."

[They get up from the floor and raise their free paw up to their face, seeing the golden blood. A scowl spreads on the deity's face.]

"I shall not hurt them. We will talk, is all."

[And with that, both Eight and Author dissapear in a portal, As soon as Eight is torn away from this universe, their train of thought is torn away from Otto's as well. Otto's mind is now completely and utterly her own. It's quiet. Disturbingly quiet.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Only a couple of minutes later, or so, another portal appears and Eight is pushed out. They stumble forwards, looking around in what seems to be.. fear? Not the acute fear that they've shown before, not the one that pushes a person over the edge, but a quiet horror that comes after witnessing, or learning something gruesome. They stand there, in the middle of the room, frozen for while before sort of falling onto the closest wall and sliding down.]

"..'s the middle of April. In case y'were curious. So.. half a year passed since we started talkin'. "

[The teen is quiet, carrying none of the rage they've had previously. It's a harsh contrast.]

" 'm okay. Not hurt. Sorry for.. telling you 'bout all of this. I shouldn't have."

[annabelle--cane]

love when an absolute nightmare of a character is introduced and all you can think is "jesus christ buddy what the hell is your problem" and the narrative gives you a hot minute to stew before explaining Exactly what is Their Problem. and you just sorta sit back in your metaphorical rocking chair and think "huh. yeah okay fair. that would do this to a person, yes."

[boingbury]

Violence moodboard

[radiofreeslowzone]

hell on earth

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto reels at the insertion of foreign thoughts into her mind, aware that she is only so disoriented because she refused to accept them as her own. She could, she thinks, make them hers, but she knows they are not, and so they grate at her consciousness until she lets them go.]

[It is difficult to let them go. She wants to hold on, wants to stay, they can't be stuck again, trapped in a hellish semi-awareness of time passing out of their control until and unless they're dragged off into some other world to- to-- those aren't her thoughts either.]

[Not hers, and not the Author's, whose? Well, who else but her friend, who conveyed similar sentiments to her just a moment ago? This should not be happening. This cannot be happening, it simply is not possible; there is no such thing as taking turns to think and blink and breathe, or she would not have spent so very long in this room with so many others living and suffering just above her. Unless, as Eight tells her, she was simply... Unaware. And then it may have been longer, so much longer, for all of them, than they ever knew.]

[And Eight is waiting. So Otto responds, determinedly attributing the tremors to weakness.]

"I did not mean to. Per-haps I did not - may be our guest is more than able to do this to us themself."

[To them, for them; is there any difference except for intent?]

-"Guest? The fuck do you mean, guest, I didn't do shit and no one else is here!"

[Eight makes maybe a quarter of an aborted gesture to the empty room around them, before they remember they were sitting still and go back to doing that.]

[eight-means-infinity]

TW: vomit mention

[Eight blinks, and the dizzying feeling of your world being pushed, pulled and spun around finally gets to them. They pull their hand up to where their mouth is, underneath the mask, and press, letting the sharp fragments of plastic, glass and metal dig into their skin. Hell, they better not throw up right in front of their friend. That would be embarrassing. So they force down the rising bile and try to just breathe through it until the feeling settles down a little.]

[They just screamed at Otto.]

"That- that wasn't me."

[The muffled, panicked excuse flies out of Eight's mouth quicker than they can process just how right their phrasing is. It wasn't just their anger this time around. Yes, they do tend to act uncharacteristically and sporadically in those moments, but this was something else. They weren't angry. It was still their thoughts, but it's like they were flipped inside out for a moment. Inexplicably wrong.]

"I didn't mean to scream. I'm not- I'm fine. I'm not mad. At you."

[Eight raises their head, finally, and connects back up to the cameras. They tend to turn those off during moments of overwhelm.. for security. And because, you know, it's easier to focus or whatever. There are some small streaks of blood lining their chin and dripping down their neck. They don't care. But.. they should. With everything they've been going through, it's only natural that they wouldn't pay much attention to small physical details like these, and yet, physical wellbeing is the first step to reconciling mind and body, something that Eight is especially struggling with right now, for understandable reasons. It's especially important, she thinks, when the oppressor, whether that be the environment, a specific organisation, or one's own mind, is trying to take away one's autonomy, keeping what one can of it is, as such, a method of rebellion. Being overwhelmed by everything happening is perfectly normal and- could you STOP THERAPISING ME IN MY OWN BRAIN????]

[Both Otto and Eight recoil slightly from the sudden screech of Eight's interruption. Eight squints at her. Otto pointedly does not reply.]

"..Wait, what guest were you talking about?"

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

"Oh, Otto.. I find you accusing me of doing this to you quite rude indeed. I can confirm that I am not the one to blame for the chaos you caused, if that quells your worries in any measure."

[Author's voice echoes clearly around the room even before their physical form can make an appearance, like an echo from the future. And just a moment later, the air near the doorway glints and splits apart to reveal the god in all of their glory. They step forward- making sure to adjust their height to the environment properly this time- and out of the portal. The latter is sewn shut behind them.]

[Author squints and observes the situation for a second or two. Then, they frown and shake their head.]

"What a mess. The order of narration is entirely ruined! Oh, mortals! How in the worlds have you managed to use my power in such a manner, without having any prior experience with it? .. although, you do have some experience with soul magic in general, I suppose.. revival and all."

[Author's complaining is immediately interrupted by a loud screech.]

[eight-means-infinity]

"YOU!"

[Eight darts up from the ground like if somebody stuck an awl in their butt. Their breathing is heavy, and they look more enraged than Otto has ever seen them before. But this isn't the cold rage she got to witness a year back, no, this is the wild, deranged anger.]

"YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO KEEPS THROWING ME AROUND INTO DIFFERENT UNIVERSES LIKE I'M A FUCKING TOY TO YOU!"

[Author sighs.]

"Oh dear.""

[project-revival-theory]

[The concrete wall behind Otto is rough, and cool. Not cold enough to be cold, but this distinction can only be made because she has leant against it for long enough that her minimal body heat has leached into it. It was cold, earlier. Before. Otto's heartbeat slows. The wall is rough. Her brittle bones ache, though she knows that, in truth, they do not. This knowledge does not relieve her discomfort, yet. Perhaps a little longer.]

"Still." [She addresses Authr directly, unsure how to interact with the enraged Eight at her side.] "It is your soul that allowed mine to... Do what ever it is that I have done."

[No, this isn't right, is it? She doesn't have to cast the fault where it does not need to be. No one is to blame for this; she does not need to defend her innocence when every one present already knows of it.]

"Forgive me. This is no more your fault than it is mine. I do how-ever, hope that you might..." [How to phrase this? She wants to be gentle, respectful. She wants to lash out; she wants to freeze, fearing the harm, she fear that may be inflicted upon her- to them, to the old man- to the woman, no, that she calls a friend, or- no, that's me. That is me, I am myself. Otto makes a concerted effort to sort her thoughts and Eight's into distinct categories so that she may respond as herself.]

"Help us once more. I do not like this, Author."

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

[Author's expression softens at Otto's words. Their frown becomes less prominent, and, then, morphs into a small, reassuring smile. Or, at least they try to look reassuring. In reality they look like a sly fox.]

"It is alright, do not fret. I do understand that magic can be quite unpredictable, especially during first time use. To be frank, I did not expect you to be able to do anything at all with it."

[The god completely ignores Eight's screech, not sparing even a glance towards them. Instead, they raise up a couple of their paws, seemingly preparing to manipulate.. empty air? Nonetheless, they continue speaking.]

"However, I do find it quite fascinated that you managed to move past the narrative barrier that separated both of you, not because of anger or fear, but in an attempt to reach out and comfort your friend. Accidental use of magic is common in high-emotion incidents, but that was not the case here, was it. That is quite peculiar indeed. Perhaps that says something about you."

[And then, Author is interrupted.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight's thoughts ring across the room like an invisible shockwave that only Otto seems to be able to hear. They are loud, so much louder and more invasive than before, and so clearly foreign. They scream over anything and everything, to the point where she can't even get her thoughts or actions through into Eight's turn like Eight is doing for her.]

[NO. NO! YOU DON'T GET TO IGNORE ME, YOU DON'T GET TO PRETEND LIKE I'M DIRT UNDER YOUR PAWS AFTER PUTTING ME THROUGH ALL OF THIS, FOR SO LONG. I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY FROM THIS UNSCATHED, AUTHOR. NEVER!]

[And, without even a warning, Eight lunges at the god completely recklessly. Their weight and speed is enough to knock Author off-balance, especially paired with the powerful punch right into Author's highest eye. They tumble to the floor.]

[It takes a moment for Author to regain their control over their own hands enough to try to pull Eight off of them, but in that time, Eight is absolutely merciless – punching and clawing, leaving multiple marks on their body, and one notable wound going across their face diagonally, with golden ichor dripping down slightly.]

[aliosne]

[shipperofthenineseas]

I actually ADORE it when a character crashes out. Let them YELL let them SCREAM let them HURT THOSE AROUND THEM with or without meaning to. I need to see more crash outs

[byjove]

whenever I get hate mail that is like ‘you just seem like kind of an asshole in general’ after going on a series of soapbox tangents, I’m like yes. I know. I’ve been working on this issue for a good 15 years. I’m not a hostile and aggressive person and I actually don’t have much of a temper but I know I have the general unpleasant aura of a snappish 16 year old chihuahua. I know I have piss and vinegar in my veins. I know I’m a little bit of a Negative Nancy. I do not revel in having a little cartoon cloud downpour over my head all the time, I don’t think I’m cool and edgy. I’m actively aware I’m unpleasant but I’ve been like that since my earliest memories. I’m still trying but yeah. there is a possibility I will be very Old Man Yells At Cloud for the rest of my life

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto reels at the insertion of foreign thoughts into her mind, aware that she is only so disoriented because she refused to accept them as her own. She could, she thinks, make them hers, but she knows they are not, and so they grate at her consciousness until she lets them go.]

[It is difficult to let them go. She wants to hold on, wants to stay, they can't be stuck again, trapped in a hellish semi-awareness of time passing out of their control until and unless they're dragged off into some other world to- to-- those aren't her thoughts either.]

[Not hers, and not the Author's, whose? Well, who else but her friend, who conveyed similar sentiments to her just a moment ago? This should not be happening. This cannot be happening, it simply is not possible; there is no such thing as taking turns to think and blink and breathe, or she would not have spent so very long in this room with so many others living and suffering just above her. Unless, as Eight tells her, she was simply... Unaware. And then it may have been longer, so much longer, for all of them, than they ever knew.]

[And Eight is waiting. So Otto responds, determinedly attributing the tremors to weakness.]

"I did not mean to. Per-haps I did not - may be our guest is more than able to do this to us themself."

[To them, for them; is there any difference except for intent?]

-"Guest? The fuck do you mean, guest, I didn't do shit and no one else is here!"

[Eight makes maybe a quarter of an aborted gesture to the empty room around them, before they remember they were sitting still and go back to doing that.]

[eight-means-infinity]

TW: vomit mention

[Eight blinks, and the dizzying feeling of your world being pushed, pulled and spun around finally gets to them. They pull their hand up to where their mouth is, underneath the mask, and press, letting the sharp fragments of plastic, glass and metal dig into their skin. Hell, they better not throw up right in front of their friend. That would be embarrassing. So they force down the rising bile and try to just breathe through it until the feeling settles down a little.]

[They just screamed at Otto.]

"That- that wasn't me."

[The muffled, panicked excuse flies out of Eight's mouth quicker than they can process just how right their phrasing is. It wasn't just their anger this time around. Yes, they do tend to act uncharacteristically and sporadically in those moments, but this was something else. They weren't angry. It was still their thoughts, but it's like they were flipped inside out for a moment. Inexplicably wrong.]

"I didn't mean to scream. I'm not- I'm fine. I'm not mad. At you."

[Eight raises their head, finally, and connects back up to the cameras. They tend to turn those off during moments of overwhelm.. for security. And because, you know, it's easier to focus or whatever. There are some small streaks of blood lining their chin and dripping down their neck. They don't care. But.. they should. With everything they've been going through, it's only natural that they wouldn't pay much attention to small physical details like these, and yet, physical wellbeing is the first step to reconciling mind and body, something that Eight is especially struggling with right now, for understandable reasons. It's especially important, she thinks, when the oppressor, whether that be the environment, a specific organisation, or one's own mind, is trying to take away one's autonomy, keeping what one can of it is, as such, a method of rebellion. Being overwhelmed by everything happening is perfectly normal and- could you STOP THERAPISING ME IN MY OWN BRAIN????]

[Both Otto and Eight recoil slightly from the sudden screech of Eight's interruption. Eight squints at her. Otto pointedly does not reply.]

"..Wait, what guest were you talking about?"

[write-like-its-goin-out-of-style]

"Oh, Otto.. I find you accusing me of doing this to you quite rude indeed. I can confirm that I am not the one to blame for the chaos you caused, if that quells your worries in any measure."

[Author's voice echoes clearly around the room even before their physical form can make an appearance, like an echo from the future. And just a moment later, the air near the doorway glints and splits apart to reveal the god in all of their glory. They step forward- making sure to adjust their height to the environment properly this time- and out of the portal. The latter is sewn shut behind them.]

[Author squints and observes the situation for a second or two. Then, they frown and shake their head.]

"What a mess. The order of narration is entirely ruined! Oh, mortals! How in the worlds have you managed to use my power in such a manner, without having any prior experience with it? .. although, you do have some experience with soul magic in general, I suppose.. revival and all."

[Author's complaining is immediately interrupted by a loud screech.]

[eight-means-infinity]

"YOU!"

[Eight darts up from the ground like if somebody stuck an awl in their butt. Their breathing is heavy, and they look more enraged than Otto has ever seen them before. But this isn't the cold rage she got to witness a year back, no, this is the wild, deranged anger.]

"YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO KEEPS THROWING ME AROUND INTO DIFFERENT UNIVERSES LIKE I'M A FUCKING TOY TO YOU!"

[Author sighs.]

"Oh dear.""

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto reels at the insertion of foreign thoughts into her mind, aware that she is only so disoriented because she refused to accept them as her own. She could, she thinks, make them hers, but she knows they are not, and so they grate at her consciousness until she lets them go.]

[It is difficult to let them go. She wants to hold on, wants to stay, they can't be stuck again, trapped in a hellish semi-awareness of time passing out of their control until and unless they're dragged off into some other world to- to-- those aren't her thoughts either.]

[Not hers, and not the Author's, whose? Well, who else but her friend, who conveyed similar sentiments to her just a moment ago? This should not be happening. This cannot be happening, it simply is not possible; there is no such thing as taking turns to think and blink and breathe, or she would not have spent so very long in this room with so many others living and suffering just above her. Unless, as Eight tells her, she was simply... Unaware. And then it may have been longer, so much longer, for all of them, than they ever knew.]

[And Eight is waiting. So Otto responds, determinedly attributing the tremors to weakness.]

"I did not mean to. Per-haps I did not - may be our guest is more than able to do this to us themself."

[To them, for them; is there any difference except for intent?]

-"Guest? The fuck do you mean, guest, I didn't do shit and no one else is here!"

[Eight makes maybe a quarter of an aborted gesture to the empty room around them, before they remember they were sitting still and go back to doing that.]

[eight-means-infinity]

TW: vomit mention

[Eight blinks, and the dizzying feeling of your world being pushed, pulled and spun around finally gets to them. They pull their hand up to where their mouth is, underneath the mask, and press, letting the sharp fragments of plastic, glass and metal dig into their skin. Hell, they better not throw up right in front of their friend. That would be embarrassing. So they force down the rising bile and try to just breathe through it until the feeling settles down a little.]

[They just screamed at Otto.]

"That- that wasn't me."

[The muffled, panicked excuse flies out of Eight's mouth quicker than they can process just how right their phrasing is. It wasn't just their anger this time around. Yes, they do tend to act uncharacteristically and sporadically in those moments, but this was something else. They weren't angry. It was still their thoughts, but it's like they were flipped inside out for a moment. Inexplicably wrong.]

"I didn't mean to scream. I'm not- I'm fine. I'm not mad. At you."

[Eight raises their head, finally, and connects back up to the cameras. They tend to turn those off during moments of overwhelm.. for security. And because, you know, it's easier to focus or whatever. There are some small streaks of blood lining their chin and dripping down their neck. They don't care. But.. they should. With everything they've been going through, it's only natural that they wouldn't pay much attention to small physical details like these, and yet, physical wellbeing is the first step to reconciling mind and body, something that Eight is especially struggling with right now, for understandable reasons. It's especially important, she thinks, when the oppressor, whether that be the environment, a specific organisation, or one's own mind, is trying to take away one's autonomy, keeping what one can of it is, as such, a method of rebellion. Being overwhelmed by everything happening is perfectly normal and- could you STOP THERAPISING ME IN MY OWN BRAIN????]

[Both Otto and Eight recoil slightly from the sudden screech of Eight's interruption. Eight squints at her. Otto pointedly does not reply.]

"..Wait, what guest were you talking about?"

[dungeon-bitch]

[barkingandrotting]

hm yes i like this character. now shoot him 5 times in a parking lot.

[project-revival-theory]

[For the last months, if not more- it's hard to say exactly how long it's been, the time in the basement feels weird, especially with the lack of a calendar or a clock- Eight has been progressively getting more and more abscent. Not in body, they've been more regular than ever in their visits, in fact, but in spirit. The kid has grown quieter. At first it just seems like their normal antsiness, but for somebody as perceptive as Otto, it wasn't hard to notice that something has changed.]

[They were jumpy in the beginning, a lot more jumpy than they used to be before, as if Otto just.. existing kept spooking them out of whatever was going on in their head. However, after a month or two, even when they did seem present and directly acknowledge Otto, it's sort of like they were numb to whatever was happening. Even when they were there, with her, in that basement, they weren't really there.]

[Eight started forgetting to bring food for themselves, or even if they did bring it, they forgot to eat it, or they forgot what they brought at all. Any questioning about their recent endeavours came up short, as they seemingly had no idea what had happened recently. And, don't get me wrong, at least they weren't aggressive, or visibly upset. Not after the incident, they made sure to keep themselves in control of their emotions now, but this was almost.. worse? At least then Otto could tell what they were feeling and how to react to it to minimise harm. But this.. wasn't too different from just eating alone.]

~

[Eight lifted their head up slightly, staring at the half-eaten piece of sandwich in their hands. They stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed as if nothing happened. Here we go again. What is it this time, a new game? Likely. I just hope this ends quickly.]

"Mmm."

[They hummed in an uncertain tone, which could mean anything, really, depending on the situation. They had no idea what was just said, or wasn't, so this uncertainty was their saving grace.]

-🎱

[For what must be months now, Otto has grown more concerned for her visitor with every meeting. More and more often Eight is distant and confused, as though they aren't sure where they are, or who, or why. This... Issue, she's not sure how else to refer to it, has reached a point where it's far less common to be able to speak to a fully aware Eight than this blank, muted version.]

[She draws herself from her musings for a moment to watch them as they eat, their pacing mechanical and posture unreadable.]

[Even when they seem most present, they're subdued. It's as if they've become a footnote in their own story. What happened to cause this, and why is it getting worse? No matter how worried she is, Otto never quite has the time or the words to coax an answer out of them before they're gone again. Most times, when Eight is here, she can't even bring herself to try. It tends to... Well, not quite slip her mind, but when they are themself, interrogating them feels both riskier and less important than appreciating their time together.]

[As if responding to Otto's thoughts, Eight draws in a deeper breath and lifts their head.]

[Welcome back.]

"You seem dist- hmm. Lost in thought. What are you thinking of?"

[eight-means-infinity]

"ugh."

[A scoff escapes Eight's lips, which they, just a moment later, end up playing off as them choking on their bite of sandwich a little bit. It's not very realistic, but it is kinda hard to be clear in your words when you have little to no control over who hears them.]

"cough cough Sorry, no, I'm f.. uh"

[One of their hands lets go of the sandwich and falls into their lap, fiddling with the hem of their hoodie. Just.. something to ground themselves. They're not sure where they are exactly- which reality, that is, but they don't get the chance to speak with Otto too often either way. They don't want to leave yet.]

"What I'm thinking of? Oh, you know.. stuff."

[They look around the room, trying to actually processes the question to be able to answer it properly. What is he asking? Have they been acting weird? They haven't noticed that, but then again, they haven't been noticing much of anything lately. Especially not in this.. is this the real world?]

"Otto?"

[If they're in the basement, if Otto is here, then that means that they couldn't have escaped. It means that they did come to Showfall in the first place, also. And this doesn't.. feel like the playground. It feels too real.]

"I meant- a lot. Of stuff. A.. crazy amount of stuff, really. It's kinda weird."

[Eight chuckled slightly, raising up their hand to rub at their face under the mask. Why did their throat feel so tense and sore all of a sudden? Their scars hurt as Eight rubbed at the old wounds. They better hurt.]

[project-revival-theory]

“You do seem to be lost in thought more often.”

[It’s them. She’s actually speaking to Eight right now, isn’t she?]

[This is difficult to explain even to herself, because she has no evidence to suggest this is the case just yet, but something about the way they’re moving, the humanity in their words… Right now, she’s entirely certain that Eight is the most themself they have been around Otto in a very long time.]

[Cautious, well aware of their habit of responding with upset or defensiveness when prompted to discuss anything of emotional importance to them, Otto begins:]

"Where does your mind go, when it is not here?"

[It's not quite the right question - she doesn't think it is, at least - but it might just be indirect enough to get them to respond out of confusion as they work out what she means.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[At the question, Eight freezes. They can't bring themselves to move, when every beat of their damned heart keeps reminding them just how condemning this situation may be. If this is real- which it is. It has to be. How else would they be able to hear the fluorescent lights, feel the cold concrete under them, smell the middling in quality sandwich they're holding in their hands? If this is real, then this might be an actual chance to tell somebody. And somebody who would care, at that. At least they hoped he would. Sure, they've told others before, but it was never.. here. They've tried telling that purple haired freak, before promptly getting booted out of the Playground; they've tried telling Soul, who just straight up dismissed them. But Otto.. wouldn't, right?]

[Finally getting their body to move, Eight turns their head to look directly at Otto. They're just about the open their mouth when a new wave of emotion crashes through. What if he did listen to them? What if he believed them, even? What if he believed them enough that it scared him? The multiverse isn't an easy concept to wrap you head around. It's terrifying for most. Does Eight really want to put their friend through this?]

".. You'll think I'm insane."

[The kid's voice is weak even to their own ears. Eight cringes at the sound but, God, they just cannot bring themselves to care right now. They've been wanting somebody to hear them for far too long.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto holds their gaze, steady and warm. She understands well how many impossible things happen in this place, and how ridiculous they would sound if anyone were to try to explain them aloud. She has spoken with beings from other worlds who give her gifts in return for her affection, learned that she is not nearly as much a man as she thought and been accepted for it without contention, held her own very soul in her hands, and died more times than the number of years she has lived.]

[By this point, there is very little she would not be willing to believe.]

"I will not."

[She reaches out to her side, slow and unsteady, and tugs the blankets toward her to leave an open space beside her on the mattress. If they wish to be nearer to her for this, they may interpret it as the invitation it is; if not, no harm is done.]

"I have seen and learned so much in re-cent times. What ever you have to say... I will hear it with an open mind."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight watches Otto's movement incredulously, yearning and desperation mixing with fear in their brain. What is happening? Since when is Otto just.. okay with them? Didn't he tense up even when Eight just used to approach him to hand him food and other neccesities? Was this a while ago? How much time passed? Was it enough to earn his trust again, to prove that they're safe to interact with? They don't feel safe. They don't feel like they've changed much, if at all, from that incident. They still haven't earned the care he puts in for them, that's for sure.]

[But also.. his words do manage to sneak into their brain, reassuring, promising. Eight can't just shake them off. It's not like they want to either. And currently, the desperation in their heart far outweighs all of the wariness they've grown to have towards themselves.]

[Eight gets up from the floor, legs unsteady. Their sandwich is simply abandoned on the floor, in the same spot where they were sitting before. Hesitantly, they move forwards. The kid pauses about two steps away from Otto and, after careful consideration, corrects their course a bit to the right. Once Eight reaches the wall, they finally get back down onto the cold concrete, just nearly avoiding sitting on the mattress itself as Otto offered. They even sit on their hands, instead of letting themselves fidget with whatever's around, just as an extra precaution. Otto doesn't want to be touched by them. They don't want to accidentally, or purposely, hurt Otto. Their motivations match, right?]

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you didn't end up at Showfall? It's not that you managed to escape, but like- you never came here in the first place? Who do you think you'd be, then?"

[Eight pauses, and then resumes, more hesitant than before.]

"And what if I told you that I knew exactly what that'd look like?"

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto waits patiently while Eight gets themself re-settled… Though ‘settled’ may not be the right word to describe them, anxious as they are. She appreciates the moment of silence, taking it in to prepare for whatever she’s about to learn. And then she thinks better of preparing, and tries to let go of it- preparing to learn or see or do impossible things, in her experience, doesn’t tend to help very much. It’s only the learning (or seeing, or doing, as the case may be) that will accomplish anything.]

…

[Well then.]

[She’s not sure what she expected, truly did her best not to expect anything at all, but somehow that still wasn’t it. Another world where she was never trapped in this cursed place. A world that Eight has found a way to… Experience, or some similar word, which has taken up much of their time and attention. Otto understands why, if it’s one where Showfall takes a less prominent role.]

[Perhaps she has been silent too long.]

“I would ask you to des-cribe it to me.”

[eight-means-infinity]

[As nerve-racking silence goes on for far longer than expected, Eight starts shrinking in on themselves. A lack of ability to fidget with their hands makes them seek out alternative ways of stress release: tensing and untensing their toes, bringing their knees up closer to their body, focusing on other sensory inputs. They go to check the cams instinctually and find themselves unable to. Not physically unable, no. Their mask still works fine. It's a mental sort of block, one that they haven't encountered before. It disturbs them far more than they were hoping to be while talking to Otto, so after just a moment, they drop it. Not the time. Doesn't seem like they can do anything about it anyways.]

[Finally, Otto calls back and Eight is immediately put at ease, at least a little bit. He's giving them a chance.]

"That world is.. not one that I've visited too often. I I've seen it.. what, two times maybe? Although the lines are always a bit blurry, so it might've been more."

[The kid breathes in and out, trying to rack their brain for any and all information they remember about that universe, and to form a comprehensive picture of it in the process.]

"From what I gathered, in that world you never ended up at Showfall, not from what I found out anyways. Instead, you ended up being a.. uhm. Librarian? Or like a teacher, maybe. When I see into these realities my memories afterwards are usually based on emotions, rather than facts, so I don't remember everything exactly. But yeah, you were like a teacher. And I- oh, yeah, this was all happening in the past, by the way. The memories I have of it anyways. The winter of.. 2006. When I got to Showfall. Or rather, in that universe I didn't. There, I was searching for somewhere to stay and- oh no, actually, at first I was just searching for food and I think I robbed your house. That's.. one hell of a first impression. But somehow I was still allowed to come back after that. To be fair I only grabbed food, not money, so it's more forgiving, I suppose. And then I.. think you had nephews over? Nephews and nieces. At least a singular nephew. I was a bitch and then you helped me anyways. I don't remember how, but I do remember a lot of paperwork, and that I never had to return to that hellish school anymore."

[Eight pauses and squints at Otto in dear confusion.]

"These nephews and nieces looked nothing like you, how would they have even been your- but they did call you auntie? Oh and you were a woman in that one, I really do not know why. At least I think you were. Past me seemed to have very contradicting feelings about that, but also past me's opinions on a lot of stuff were dogshit, so that's hardly fair to go off of. Raised in a very conservative environment and all. Yayy."

[That last "yayy" was pronounced with enough sarcasm and exhaustion in it to kill a snake.]

[project-revival-theory]

"A teacher."

[Otto murmurs to herself, her gaze drifting down to empty hands in her lap, holding what used to be a plan for the future. A teacher who takes in strange children breaking into her house... So this, if it's true, is what she could have been.]

[She hears of a large family that doesn't seem to be directly related to her, and her first thought is of the Anons who leave her gifts and messages and call themselves her grandchildren. Perhaps, in this other world, they take a physical form more consistently. Or perhaps they are an entirely new set of people, and she thinks too much.]

[Otto looks up sharply at the word 'auntie,' and winces, bracing in preparation for the protesting pain she realises immediately afterward isn't going to come. That's right, the Author took that from her some time ago now. More importantly, in this other world, she wasn't a man. What if that was her intended path, and something simply... Went wrong, in this one, to set her in this body instead?]

...

[...It feels silly to envy oneself. Otto turns her thoughts in a more relevant direction.]

"I had hoped to be a teacher, when I was young. I do believe... You have seen these things. And if I was able to keep you out of your school, it is likely I took cus-tody of you some how."

[eight-means-infinity]

[Eight blinked and suddenly, the park disappeared and they were left grasping at straws. They shook their head slightly, pushing away the remains of the conversation with Di. Otto came back. Finally.]

"I can assure you that the only parents I have are rotting in their graves as they should. The other you did not adopt me- well. The other me. I don't carry my memories into these universes, only back out of them."

[The teen shuffled on the spot, pulling their hands from under their butt, having forgotten why they were there in the first place. They, perhaps subconsciously, inch a bit closer to Otto.]

[In the silence that emerged while Eight thought, they tried to resettle back in this universe — to distinguish their memories from foreign ones. And only then, while sorting through everything, did they realise that Otto's reaction to being called "auntie" in the other universe was.. odd. He never moves this quickly, not unless he's surprised or scared. Why did he-]

[They look up at him and are met with a very familiar picture: a braid, a sweater, even a skirt. Soft clothes in warm colors. His style.. isn't that different from the other Otto. There's just one thing missing. Plus, the people's identities don't tend to vary too much from m universe to universe, and he did say that he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger so there is a part of truth to the other universe, and.. didn't they already suspect this? With how nervous Otto was when showing them the skirt for the first time, with all of the curiousity towards their own gender expression.. A question brews in their gut and comes out before they can think better of it.]

"Hey Otto, are you trans?"

[Their tone is awfully casual, as if they're asking what Otto's favourite team was, instead of something as personal as gender identity. But Eight has lost so much time already, they can't afford to lose any more by stalling, lying and avoiding anything and everything.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto tenses, almost imperceptibly, as she finds herself inexplicably startled by Eight's voice. Or perhaps it was something that came after, a minute mental jolt, as if she'd nearly fallen asleep and been woken again before she had time to notice she was dozing off.]

[Her thoughts catch and drag on the word trans, unfamiliarity stalling her comprehension, but not for long - no, she does recognise this word after all.]

[She's not quite sure why this question causes as much anxiety as it does. It isn't as though Eight would be inclined to disparage her for her choices, when she has so few available to her and Eight has elected to travel down a similar path. Still, she was raised a certain way... Perhaps she can be forgiven her apparently old-fashioned concerns so long as she does not allow them to govern her.]

I believe so, yes.

[Otto slowly, precisely, readjusts her soft, knit sleeves. They have not moved, and neither has she, but it feels necessary anyhow.]

[eight-means-infinity]

[Just a moment after Otto comes to, Eight does as well. Their breathing sputters, as if they got cut off mid-inhale, and restarts in a slightly shakier pace than before. They take a moment to process Otto's response, then to look around, then to check the date.]

"UGHHHhhhhhhh..."

[A loud groan echoes through the room and, in sync with it, Eight's head falls onto their knees. The groan goes on for a good long while as they contemplate what their life has come to. Only after half a minute do they realise exactly what Otto has said just before and how their immediate reaction might look to her. They mumble out another response without lifting their head, the sound muffled.]

"Not you, you're good, be whoever you wanna be. Don't care. Not what I'm groaning about."

[Eight gestures to her vaguely with their hand while they speak, a movement that even they have no clue about the meaning of. And then, just as sharply as their previous mood swing was, they get up from the floor.]

"You know, we started this conversation in late October, just a week before Halloween. Did you know that? I doubt you did. Wanna guess what date it is right now? The twenty second of January. Oh on that note, happy new year I guess. Twenty twenty six is upon us."

[The teen starts pacing back and forth and back and forth through the room, occasionally stopping to look at Otto. For dramatic effect.]

"That's another reason for why I've been so distracted, actually! Time isn't- time isn't fucking linear! Time! You know, the fourth dimension or whatever? That one? The one that's relative? Well it is really, really fucking relative apparently! Cause it's non-linear! Some interactions start and go on for a day, some for a week, some for a month, some for a whole goddamn year! And all of those interactions are the same length, technically! Ha. Haha. Some interactions don't end at all. And nobody seems to notice! Nobody seems to fucking notice any of it! Nobody except for me I guess. And Star, but- they noticed that time passed, but they didn't really think about the implications. So it doesn't count."

[After almost not making a turn and almost walking into a wall, Eight finally decides to stop pacing, and just leans at the wall instead.]

"You don't notice anything, I know, but every time any one of us stops speaking or moving or whatnot, anytime the hypothetical baton is passed to the next person, time passes. It was almost two and a half months this time around. Between my question and your reply. I don't know why it's happening, I don't know why the pauses are sometimes longer or shorter either. All I know is that I- I don't want to be stuck in this fucking time limbo anymore."

[The teen's hands slowly slide up as they speak, ending up in a sort of an awkward, tense self-hug. They keep speaking, not letting Otto get a word in.]

"Right now, I'm in.. five places simultaneously, at the very least. I'm here, talking to you, three months ago. I'm a year ago, talking to bu- oh fuck it, talking to Soul and watching Star meet Security. I'm talking to an dumbass four months ago. I'm outside of any interactions, just living my daily life in the present. And I'm also... talking about intestines and salsa at somebody's family reunion? In a whole other universe? I have no idea what's happening there. But, the point is, I'm experiencing all of those simultaneously, all at different times and sometimes even in different dimensions, and, hell, it feels like my head is cracking the fuck open."

[And with that, Eight slid down the wall, quietly awaiting for Otto's respo-]

"I'm not done yet. Don't you dare end the post on me. Ah- that. Wasn't to you. I just- as long as I keep speaking, as long as I keep moving and thinking and doing stuff, this won't end. It can't end. It's only in those little bits between the actions that time passes. As long as I keep at it, I know that nothing bad will happen. And I- I just. I just don't know how much time is going to pass. I don't want it to. I might see you tomorrow, might see you in a month, might see you fucking never again! There are some interactions which didn't end at all. Some which have been buried without finishing. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to be the last time I'm speaking to you, even if I only have to wait- I don't want to wait! I don't control these pauses, can't control them, and so once I stop speaking I'm just stuck. Stuck waiting. Stuck with no ability to act out of turn or to do anything at all or to even control where I'll get sent to next, which universe, which person, which time. I'm just. Scared. But as long as I-"

[Otto reaches out with a faintly trembling hand, long since healed and freed from its cast. She seems hesitant, even nervous, but still she reaches out to offer a grounding warmth, that hand coming to a gentle rest on Eight’s shoulder. Eight shudders, and turns their head in her direction. Finally, their speech gets cut off mid-word.]

[project-revival-theory]

[Eight is stiff as a board at her side, their neck twisted at an awkward angle to keep their eyes fixed on that point of contact. They're afraid of themself, of what they could do - what they have done, the pain they've caused and are more than capable of causing again and again if they don't rein themself in. So they don't move a muscle. They don't say a word, but they think: What have you done? How did you move, how did you anything, why am I still thinking? How am I here at the same time as you?]

[Otto pulls her hand back into her lap, and closes her eyes until her head stops spinning. She... Was not meant to do this, she thinks, and neither are they. They were not intended to be able to reach out at the wrong time. To interfere. Most of all to be aware of her-their- interference, or the concept of acting at the wrong time at all.]

I am sorry, [She says, for once not feeling entirely present in herself, speaking and thinking of two very different things. It has been two months since she last held any presence at all, for Eight, and she perceived none of it. Eight needs reassurance to endure the lack of control that is someone else's moment in the spotlight; Otto needs time, to process what she has learned and remembered and known all along and discovered for the first time second time and. She counts her breaths, her heartbeats, traces the crack in the ceiling with her eyes.]

I'm sorry you have had to learn to live like this.

[eight-means-infinity]

"Don't p-"

[Eight cuts off the growl that was brewing in the back of their throat before it can come to the surface. They cough instead, giving themselves time to shape their words into something.. kinder.]

"...Please don't pity me. I feel that my survival is more demonstrative of my strength than of anything else."

[Otto's eyes dart from the crack in the ceiling to Eight's form beside her. Perhaps going to such measures to try and help them was the wrong choice, she is fully aware how Eight tends to respond to sympathy, after all. But they are restraining themselves.. for now. She should be more careful with her further words regardless. Who knows how thin their patience can run this time?]

[Her chest has a new sort of tightness to it, one that was not there before and which, notably, does not feel like anxiety, nor acute fear. It's an odd heat, almost like if somebody is passing a lighter against the inside of her ribs. Unpleasant, but, on its own, not painful. However, combined with all of the other sensory and mental stimulations that filled up Otto's mind, one more was just too much. Perhaps she could use her own mind to stretch time, like Eight did with their words? It could be mighty useful right about now.. Just an idea, though.]

"On a different note, did you just break the space time continuum whatever? What the fuck? How the hell are you doing this? Since when can you just. Do that? No, but really, what the fuck???"

[wherescad]

why are you so mad

oh ok