Crow Faced Visitor

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Come a little closer…… let me see what you arrrrrre…… I don’t biiiiiite…… I might, though…

(Signs and rules under the cut)

ASKS OPEN, REPLIES MAY BE SLOW

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THIS BLOG AND ITS CHARACTERS FEATURE TOPICS INCLUDING MEDICAL TRAUMA, GORE, AND SUGGESTIVE CONTENT. DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 16.

🐟💎🐟💎🐟💎🐟💎🐟💎🐟 TIMELINE MASTERPOST <- CATALOGUES EVERYTHING ON THE BLOG, NEWCOMERS START HERE!

Ninah memes 1, 2, 3

Voiceclaims

Official Playlists in chronological order

Unofficial theme songs

Tags for asks : #pink asks Tags for Pink roleplay : #pink RP Tags for lore and art: #pink ink Tags for out of character: #pink unmasked

Tags for Pearl roleplay : #pearl anon

Recurring character tags!

#skin anon #intruder #nickel anon / #coin guy #homeowner #guest anon #lollipop kid #pax #mirror anon #obsessive maniac #tie girl #music lover #troublemaker #morbid kid #former fema #fema rookie

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Hi everyone!! Finally making my first roleplay blog for my NINAH ocs, Pink and Pearl!! My main blog is @vocafur, and I’m pretty chill with almost everything that comes my way as long as it’s directed towards my OCs and not me, excluding NSFW further than OBVIOUS jokes!! I mostly made this to consolidate my OCs’ lore into one place, and also so people could harass them back!!

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THE RULES

Do not send NSFW images, or NSFW beyond incredibly obvious jokes, a la “do it jiggle”, I’m also aroace and I would NOT like to see more!

OC x OC and OC x canon is allowed, but it almost certainly won’t be reciprocated if it’s romantic. AUs are very welcome though!!

Don’t send harassment towards me. Harass Pink and Pearl all you want though!

ABOUT PINK ANON

Name: Fedyanka Voronin Aliases: Crow-Masked Visitor, “Pink” Pronouns: They/Them Sexuality: Bisexual Nationality: 🇷🇺 (Also speaks French)

Pink is one of many Visitors living in the rural area of Russia the game is set in during the events of No I’m Not A Human. They’re 7 foot 6 inches, roughly 62 years old, with discoloured and oddly textured skin, which is often covered in their own blood. Only their incredibly bony neck and long nailed hands are left uncovered, the rest hidden beneath a plethora of fur coats, and of course, their mask. It covers almost all of their face from most angles, all except their wild pink eye showing through the eyehole mesh.

Pink has a fiancée, Pearl, and enjoys a variety of shiny trinkets as well as scaring humans hiding from the sun. They are absolutely godawful at being a Visitor though and will crumble the second someone doesn’t fear them, and while they are capable of killing they are VERY squeamish about murder and will only do it if they feel they HAVE to. They are very insecure about their inability to do their single job as a Visitor. While they have very, very little recollection of their life before becoming a visitor, they know they were a jeweller and gemologist as a human, and they know a number of surgeries had something to do with their current monstrous appearance.

REFERENCE SHEETS

ABOUT PEARL ANON

Name: Mira Morozov Aliases: Ghostly Woman, “Pearl” Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Lesbian Nationality: 🇮🇳🇷🇺

Pearl, along with her partner Pink, live in the area surrounding Sebezh, Russia, in the 90’s. She is 6 foot 5 inches, roughly 58 years old, with pale translucent skin that reveals her internals upon closer examination. She covers much of it up with the different blue beaded dresses she wears, which match her beautiful blue eyes. The only other obvious tell of her being a visitor, besides her unusual skin, is the sharp white teeth that poke out of her mouth, which she tries to hide with her long, wavy black hair.

She is very competent in her role as a Visitor, finding satisfaction in giving into her violent instincts, and even being more than just acquaintances with the Pale Maniac. When she rarely decides to socialize, she usually wears a mask of kindness, believing honesty is something to be earned. As a human, she lived in Gujarat, India for the first 2 decades of her life, spending them in between a private psych ward, and an unhappy arranged marriage she was sold into at the age of 12. She fled to Russia as an older teenager, where she discovered her talent for figure skating and became a somewhat recognized skater, when she met her later second husband, who had her give up her skating career to be a housewife. Nearly 40 years later, her husband is dead, and she’s a Visitor, with fuzzy recollection of how either happened.

REFERENCE IN THE WORKS

Excited to see you all in my ask box soon!

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

OOC: Y’know I got bit by a horsefly like 3-4 days ago and I’m thinking since the bite is now bright purple and bigger than my fist that MAYBE I’m allergic 💔

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Praise the sun.....

……Why in the world would I do that?????? The ssssssun is but a tool of Lady Death, and why would you worship a creation in place of the creator??????

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Make a lil pixel animation of Pink without their mask on 😇

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……

[carrying-coins]

<he leans into them, as per their intention, face concealed halfway by the fur of their coats. The sensation of resting, even for a moment, hits him like a wave, dragging him under rapidly, flooding his lungs with a certain lethargic slowness, exhaustion at its finest. His body is hot, sticky with sweat in a way that they are likely terribly aware of. The aroma of vomit, and sweat, and sickness clings to him, as though he were the very horseman of plague, sat by their side in a tired mound, the heat of his body penetrating their coats quite quickly, despite the numerous layers present.>

<he considers what they’d told him. If not a visitor, or FEMA, then who?? He hasn’t suspected FEMA to begin with, but maybe some extraordinarily cruel visitor….? Even then, he hasn’t met any willing, or capable, to go to such an extreme. It’s a very odd thing, and it puts him on edge. Perhaps Amorette was a good thing, if she makes him stay inside…>

<he returns his attention to them, as they continue speaking, though his static-filled head makes it something of a nuisance to do.>

Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.. I jus’-… even if I get somethin’ out of it in the end, I still might fuck her over, an’ I don’t wanna do that, but y’know my mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes an’ then I ssay-… an’ then she’ll be stuck thinkin’ she was the problem all the time, or she’ll hate me, an’ I-.. <he sighs.> I dont wanna be like-.. <like his own parents. He didn’t even really know what a parents was meant to be like, up until he met pink. He’s afraid that he doesn’t have it in him to be any better. He worries that he’ll leave amorette hurt, or abandoned, that he’ll fail to care for her properly, regardless of his kind intentions. He has a way of messing things up, and he would really rather not this series of unfortunate blunders apply to Amorette as well.>

Whatever. I probably will figure things out, I’m jus’ a little worried ‘s all. Feels shitty to bring a kid into all this bullshit, y’know?

<he closes his eyes, conscious worry receding to the back of his head, though the general anxiety remains intact. He crosses his arms over his stomach, the ring they’d just adorned him with glinting dimly beneath the radiance of the moon. He wishes very much that he could sleep now, though he keeps himself as awake as he can, knowing he’ll have to return to take amorette from Nemoy once pink leaves again. He exhales relievedly at their agreement to watch his daughter, so glad that tears sting his eyes at the prospect of not having to keep an eye on her.>

Thank you sso much… ohh, you’re a godsend, mama… er- pink— I meant… nevermind. I’m jus’ tired.

<he peeps open one eye at his slip up, reviewing their face with some worry. He doubts they’ll mind much, though some whisper at the base of his skull argues otherwise, very convincing in its argument. He changes the topic quickly, in the hopes that they won’t notice.>

..Oh. Yeah, me too. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. ‘S some rancid shit, but I guess it makes sense, with everythin’ goin’ on..

<he fails to catch the lie in their tone, taking their words at face value instead.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were in fact horribly aware of how he smelled, with a nose like theirs, however they were even more aware of their own smell, one which had started to become apparent as of today, a little over a week since their last meal…the sour smell of something in active decomposition, of maggot-pockmarked roadkill, death. Visitors rotted far slower than actual corpses, taking hours to look truly dead, and days to start rotting, but they had put off eating long enough for their starvation to start to make itself clear once again.

They had to wonder how he tolerated it, how he tolerated them, how he could forgive them for how impossible they make it to love them… they were a thing, a thing with a monstrous face and decomposing body, a thing which had tried to eat him twice somewhat successfully, a thing that their own mother had not held love for… and yet, they’d tried hard enough that Artie still did. Almost reflexively by now, they moved to gently pet his hair as they spoke.]

Well, we’re not even the same sssssspecies, and the first thing I did when I met you was try to eat you, but there’ssssss no question in my mind right now about if I care about you, or if you care about me…… I can’t imagine words you could say on accident could put more of a divide between you and her than the boundaries we’re trampling this ssssssecond……

[They did their best to hold back on pointing out his language usage as he spilled his worries about parenting, vulgar as it was, they could wait to lecture him about it later. Still, they’d looked briefly irritated following each curse and swear, their face scrunching up with each instance like they were being repeatedly presented with some truly horrendous smell, attentive as they were to his other words.

Particularly, his little slip up.

Their wild pink eye went wide and dilated, like a cat about to pounce on prey or a toy alike, though they did not leap just yet, staring for a moment as they processed what they’d heard, like they had assumed they’d misheard it initially. Mama. Two syllables, easy enough to let slip out of your mouth on accident… but accident on not, it meant the world to them. Of course, they’d known for a while that them and Artie were more than just friends, no regular friendship would go to the lengths that they had for each other, lengths that only family, blood or not, ever would… but to hear confirmation of it still warmed their soft little heart. Their currently single mouth of needlish teeth slowly opened, hesitantly, into a smile, before they snatched him in an unintentionally tight hug, enough to lift him a few inches up, head bent down over his shoulder.]

You called me mama!!!!!!

[Their chest twitched and shook with the excited shuffling of their hidden wings, and from their laughter… well, they were either crying or laughing, Artie couldn’t quite tell, but it was out of pure joy either way.]

[carrying-coins]

<he too, often wonders how they can tolerate a person like him. Horribly keen on getting himself into dangerous situations, which he’s become relatively good at pulling himself out of, however on the off chance that he can’t… well, then it becomes Pink’s problem. In addition, his mouth runs loud and abrasive, hurtful without the slightest intention to hurt. He is generally unbearable to be around, and he really doesn’t understand why people are willing to withstand his presence now out of all times.>

<he enjoys their presence, despite their “shortcomings”, which aren’t really in their control, because they’ve cared for him more attentively than any other person he can recall coming into contact with, aside from perhaps Lasha. They actively seek his presence, which is something not many others are willing to do. At the end of the day, they really are his mama.>

<he only sighs at their counter argument. He could come up with a plethora of things that would contradict their reasoning, but only time would tell how adequately he could raise a child. Playing an endless game of what-ifs will get neither of them anywhere. He flinches at the touch of their palms atop his head, slightly more on-edge than normal. His hair is abysmally coarse presently, tangled with such masterful detail that you’d think he tied the knots himself.>

<their disgust at his word choice slips him by entirely. He’d been doing quite well at monitoring his language for some time around pink, but in the perhaps week or less since he’d seen them, his attention towards his mouth had regressed a great deal. He also doesn’t notice the dilation of their pupils, nor the smile preceding their swift move to bring him to their arms. The pressure they force on his ribs makes him wheeze into the furs over their shoulder, pinned to their chest like a taxidermy butterfly, its wings splayed out to its sides. The jouncing of their wings beneath their skin makes him squeal, a noise akin to a piglet’s shrill whine, tickled in his abdomen.>

Well- jus’ ‘cause I got— you! I meant-

<frantically, words topple out from behind his teeth, an unnecessary and poorly constructed attempt at defending himself. He gets the urge to justify his choice, despite their positive reaction. Finally, he settles on silence, arms relaxed over their shoulders, face nudged into the side of their neck at such an angle that his mouth and nose are each at least partially covered by their coats, to spare him the stench clinging to their skin. He takes comfort in the freezing temperature of their skin, to cool his hot face.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Hearing him frantically try, and fail, to defend his slip up in words, they couldn’t help but laugh through their already joyous tears, their mind overflowing with parental love for him, species divide be damned. Unable to keep themselves together for too long, their rib wings folded open partly to excitedly flex more freely, now only restrained by the fabric of their coats.

Even if he never once said they were his mama, never verbally expressed his love for them, never thought to gift them back for the ring they gave him, never would debate suicide at the thought of their relationship being irreversibly damaged, they can’t imagine they wouldn’t love him the exact same way regardless. They can’t imagine a work where they didn’t love him, impulses and rude language and all, with the unconditional affection of a mother. As hard as it was for either of them to fathom it, they were irreparably bonded together, two messed up individuals too comfortable around each other for their own good, never to abandon each other under any circumstance.]

Calm down kid, it’s okay, I’m not mad!!!!!!

[They were overjoyed, excited, overwhelmed, anything but mad, really. Im fact, his particular slip up got them thinking as well… “mama”… they supposed there wasn’t a gender neutral version of the term, maybe it was an easier default than “papa”, but… still, did this mean Artie saw them as a woman? Did this mean they WERE a woman? They weren’t sure how they felt about that, how correct that exactly was to admit. Women were beautiful, naturally ethereal, beings as innately and effortlessly beautiful as the cosmos, they were something so viscerally disgusting that shooting them on sight wasn’t a wholly unreasonable reaction… and besides that, it felt wrong, in a way they couldn’t fully articulate. No, they couldn’t be a woman.]

I love you, kid, I don’t think I ssssssay it enough……

[They spoke with a genuine affection to their echoing voice, thick and sweet as honey, and with a long breath out, they finally loosened their hold on him to something more comfortable for them both, arms falling to lay closer to the bottom of Artie’s ribcage. Wrong as it felt to perhaps be a woman, they could ignore the connotation if it meant Artie would call them his parent once again.]

[carrying-coins]

<he takes a breath at their verbal confirmation that they are, not in fact, upset with him. Sometimes body language and actual feelings don’t quite match up, he’s learned. Like Pearl, for instance. She is outwardly kind to him, and her perpetually fixed smile would imply that she is not upset with him, but her hatred is tangible. He could taste it in the air from a mile back, even with his general ineptitude in deciphering body language. Their wings graze his soft underbelly as they fold out, scraped very gently over the front of his dirty grey shirt, and he squirms some, something adjacent to a breathy giggle following his action.>

<the soft noise issuing out from his throat wavers and dies. Ilya’s words echo pink’s and he shifts uncomfortably in their lap. Artie, you make it very hard to love you. Two insults in one, truly. “You’re difficult”- preceding “to love”. Not only is he a burden, but also one who is undeserving of affection, let alone love. Are “undeserving of love” and “incapable of giving and receiving love” synonymous? He doesn’t know. Mostly he knows that things go poorly when he returns the words. He’d come to the conclusion that were he not to say “I love you” back to pink, when they came to visit after the accident, they would have fled into the night. He would’ve saved Ilya a bullet and their voice, pink getting scorched, and himself swimming through mountains of gore to separate the two halves of his life, so they didn’t kill one another. He’s terribly aware how irrational his thought process is, but with his track record it’s not entirely unreasonable either. He picks apart the blood-and-surely-other-bodily-fluids-crusted bits of fur on their coats, fingers working tirelessly behind their head. He could pretend he didn’t hear them? No, his ear is quite literally pressed against their throat, and the other is only his head’s width away from the origin of their voice. The silence spans on, like a walk of shame, straining in the darkness. Surely they could smell the insecurity seeping out from beneath his ribs, like some truly rancid secretion? Anxiousness and shame potent enough to make them gag. A change of topic might be good.>

…..you’re not really my “mama” though, are you?- er- I mean-… Are you even a woman?

<it comes out a little more accusatory than he intends it. “Are you even a woman?” Are you even anything? He doesn’t seem to catch it. If he did, he would have apologized. Instead, he moves his hands to a different section of their back, detangling these tufts of fur as he thinks. Do visitors actually have gender? Is pink a woman? Or are they a unique case? Unique to exclusively humans though, with their typically definable sexes, or unique to their species, too? From what he’s seen visitors are typically easy to separate into man or woman. And surely if they were only once-dead people, then they are man or woman, just like humans? But they also don’t seem to follow the same biological rules as humans. Can visitors reproduce? Hadn’t Lasha gotten pregnant with a visitor’s baby? So do they need a human host in order to have offspring? Pink is very difficult for him to stereotype. An octagonal peg, when as far as he was aware, there were only square and round ones. They’re very well-covered, which makes it difficult for him to determine their gender by those means, but their voice is sort of feminine… just carried with the cadence and vocabulary of a man? What would he even call them, if they’re not a man or woman?>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They couldn’t quite smell his feelings per se, but they could pick up with ease the anxious sweat beading on his neck and brow, and they could feel the sudden tension in his body, the rise of his shoulders and his stiffening spine. They weren’t always the best at reading people, but it wasn’t hard for them to figure out their words put him on edge… why? Did he mishear them, somehow, or did they say it wrong? They sure hoped not, a brow raising as they tried to figure out the mental hurdles of his mind blindfolded… they never landed on the conclusion that Artie believed that last night’s events would never have happened if he had just bit his tongue. They knew, of course, that they would not have left if he never said he loved them back, because they’d meant what they said, reciprocated or not. Even now, their sticking by his side despite his hesitation proved that no words of his, spoken or otherwise, might have changed things between them, especially not enough to save them from getting shot…

Though, they did decide to let it go, as Artie changed the topic, their expression reverting to their more regular smile]

I don’t…… I don’t know, really……

[Honestly, Artie knew about as much as they did regarding their own gender, hard as they’d tried to remember what they may have been as a human, and hard as they tried to find out otherwise. Even under their extensive coverings, hard as they looked… all indications of what they should have been have been distorted beyond identification. Their face, even held together to be as close as they can manage to human-looking, is not identifiably male or female in construction. Their voice too is, at best, slightly feminine in sound, though the echoing of their choir of a voice made any comparison to existing gender roles difficult. Similar is their chest, nippleless and with one side at least a full cup size larger than the other. That isn’t to even address the space between their legs, occupied by a massive perpetually weeping scar no prettier than their face, jagged and long enough to reach the lower edge of their navel. Like their face too, they knew well it widened further when they lost focus on keeping themselves from splitting, eventually joining together with their chest scar to form one long gorey line down their entire front half. Likely it was that whatever killed them had created it in their final moments, since wounds after death usually heal, but… why? Why not rip them in two after killing them first?]

I don’t care that much what you call me, though…… if you sssssay I’m not a woman, guess I’m not…… it’sssss not like I remember my name either……

[Not a woman… though it didn’t narrow things down, it felt more correct to say a thing like them could never be a woman… even if they felt as though they could never exactly be a man, either, hope as they might to be one for the purpose of marrying Pearl. They couldn’t exactly stay together if Pink was a woman, after all, what lunacy would that be! Besides, suits cover up more and are a bit harder to accidentally shred than dresses, and they would like to find something a bit nicer to wear than their coats someday… they didn’t look much like someone knowledgeable about gold in this wild animal aesthetic they have going on.]

[carrying-coins]

<he relaxes again, as they allow him to nose the topic of conversation into more comfortable territory. Well… maybe more comfortable. An odd sort of feeling nestles itself between his ribs, up his spine, and into his hands. But what? Something empty and jittery and hot. He frowns at their response.>

What d’you mean you don’t know?? How could you not know?

<how could they not know? What does this imply? He assumes their response means any typical indicator of what sex they may be, has either vanished with the appearance of their visitorhood, or is entirely unrecognizable, too difficult to label as one or the other.>

Does… like, Pearl, or any other visitor have-? Are they men or women?

<his frown deepens at their next response. His hands had already worked through all of the tangled fur he could reach, without bending himself further down their back. His work is finished then, he supposes. He allows his palms to lie flush against the backside of their ribs, warming up quickly with the insulation their coats provide.>

Well… ‘s in the middle between mama, an’ papa then? Pink, you’re not very helpful, I’m afraid.

<he laughs quietly into their coats, though it quickly dwindles and dies in the night, allowing a temporary silence to pool between them, until pink next speaks. The small, whispery feeling churns, gliding its hot, spiky body along his innards, and he frowns. What could it be? Something he isn’t very familiar with, certainly. He feels some small irritation at them, for being so neutral, such an entirely blank slate that they simply get to choose things like their name or gender. He quickly shoves any disdain he holds towards them, or their situation out of his head, more irritated with himself now. Whatever means brought them to this point were surely gruesome ones. He probably wouldn’t enjoy their visitoring process very much, even if it meant the ultimate prize was more freedom to define yourself the way you liked. God, was it jealousy, slipping its way down his spine with that sneaky, giggling voice? What is his problem? He almost feels the need to apologize, despite not having done anything outwardly wrong.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

CW: SA implication

[As they calmed down from the excitement of him calling them mama, they slowly folded their wings back into something more proper for human anatomy, and something that better protected their largely useless but incredibly delicate internal organs, in the process giving Artie an easier shape to wrap his arms around.]

Kid, you know how my face and my chest look, you think the resssssst of me’s any prettier??????

[Not to mention their often filthy and horribly overgrown claws, the wrinkled mold-grey surface of their skin, sometimes putrefied to the point of wholly dissolving into rotten sludge, their usually abhorrent smell, and their tendency to be found bent over meat that a vulture wouldn’t touch, they were anything but a pretty thing. Really it would be remarkable if there was anything physically normal someone could find on them. A horrible decaying shell to held their soft little heart.]

Death’ssssss name kid, why’s that matter to you??????

[They spoke with amusement in their echoing voice, shooting him a toothy smile, knowing well he didn’t mean for it to come across as the perverted question it came out as, but more than happy to take the opportunity to tease him about it anyway. Then, as quickly as they’d jokingly scolded him for asking, they switched their tone, an unspoken “just kidding” preceding their answer… avoiding referencing the exact anatomy of their fiance, of course.]

I don’t know about what other visitors have between their legssssss, I haven’t checked too many myself, but I haven’t met another one who wasn’t sure about their gender……

[Despite their joke, they spoke honestly, knowledgable as they are about their kind’s biology, no one they knew had exactly tried to reestablish gender roles in their species, nor had any of them seriously tried to reproduce in times like these. They strained trying to recall another visitor like them, one who similarly had no idea and one whose body was distorted as horribly as theirs… they had a feeling they must have met one even more hideous than themselves, some truly hideous thing with a trio of faces not unlike their own infinity, but… the memory is hazy, almost like recalling a dream. It certainly felt like one.

They weren’t quite sure if they were still human when they had come across this visitor, assuming they were any more than a figment of their own imagination… but their recollection was as hazy as all of their remaining memories of humanity were, so surely they were still alive then, right? Either way, they remember the feeling of cold, clotted blood on their body, on what must have been naked skin… why were they naked again? Maybe they just forgot what they were wearing, or maybe this was just some nonsense from their imagination . But… they remembered how their face ached, the taste of their own brain collapsing into their mouth, how stiff their body felt against the sharp black grass. They remember they felt good, like everything was okay in the world… surely a dream, then, it was the apocalypse after all. They shook their head as they refocused on Artie’s words, the memory fading back into the fog of their mind.]

I really don’t know kid, you can just call me one of them if you want, like I ssssssaid, it doesn’t bother me what you call me……

[They smile, failing to notice his jealousy at their nonchalance about their own gender and its expression, given they didn’t exactly envy their own situation, being free in a way they never sook to be, at the cost of becoming monstrous beyond any recognition through an agonizing and nonconsensual process. Why in the world would Artie be jealous of them?]

[carrying-coins]

No. Maybe? I don’t know! ‘S why I asked.

<he shifts against them, as they recoil their outstretched wings, resettled into the cavity of their chest. He huffs into the plume of fur bordering their neck, caught somewhere between indignant and embarrassed. Was it a stupid question? He feels scolded in a way that makes him feel it was a stupid question. He is also far too prideful to let himself get embarrassed that easily.>

I- No, no- I didn’t mean- ‘s jus’ like— I-I-…

<his nose drags along the space over their collarbone, the steady decline of muscle beneath their furs, until his nose rests at the ledge of their shoulder. Heat crawls up his neck settling into the pale flesh of his face, spanning over his bones, shocking his nerves, burning him from the inside out. Well now he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t catch the play in their tone, only the subtle cry of protest in their words at his curiosity.>

Sorry. <the lonesome word emerges with no more volume than the footstep of a mouse, awkward but entirely sincere. He is very cocky, but not quite enough so that he finds it below himself to apologize- mostly because he fears it would hurt their feelings if he didn’t. Though, the shame for his internal outburst of jealousy, and his unintentionally perverted question is certainly a strong motivator as well.>

<in the very least, he’s glad they answered his question. The information wasn’t important to him in any means past satiating curiosity, but he found it interesting nonetheless. Pink is a relatively unique case then, it seems. He considers vaguely what this meant for their human life. Were they always neutral in this way, even as a human, or did it come with their visitoring? He wonders if they had any children of their own, or if the potential oddity in their gender as a human made it impossible. Guilt takes him by surprise, at the notion. Is he taking the place of some more deserving person, or people? Ones who are wondering where their parent had gone, ones worrying themselves sick? Children of their own, who had been raised by pink, only for them to vanish? If the hypothetical children discovered an imposter in their place, how would they feel? They’d hate him probably. For good reason, too. He hardly deserves a place at their side, he hadn’t done anything to earn their care, other than displaying his obnoxiously persistent desire for connection. He retracts his arms from down their back, sliding delicately out of their lap with a frown. Do they only like him for fulfilling the subconscious space of some missing child? A puzzle piece that doesn’t fit quite right, but is just good enough to slot into the hole where their real child should be? He’s not their kid. He only sort of thinks he is, but that doesn’t count for much in the face of their real offspring. He’s probably only a placeholder. He turns the ring they gave him around his index, gut churning, pinkened in his bout of upset.>

What? <he forgot to pay attention. His mind catches up to what they’d been saying, letting silence settle between the two for only a moment, before he responds.>

Oh. Okay. Well…. How’s.. I don’t know. ‘S real hard t’ think of somethin’ that doesn’t sound stupid. Ah…. My name’s stupid anyways, so I guess we can be matching, right? <he giggles lightly, watching his hands, rather than holding their gaze. He figures that he doesn’t really have to keep eye contact to be polite anymore, right? Now they’re too deeply attached to leave him for his minor flaws. They can’t leave, like they could before, so it’s okay to drop his facade!>

…I don’t know. D’you like baba? I think ‘s not as bad as like… yaya or somethin’. Might be the best you’re gonna get.

<his guilt, jealousy and shame slip down the sides of his mind, no longer bothering him as persistently as they previously were. Now, they remain as a worried whisper at the base of his brain, slipping quietly between creases, unimportant now that he’s distracted.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[At his reaction to their teasing, they burst out with an echoing choir of laughter lasting a fair few seconds, one mouth becoming three as their focus on keeping their face together momentarily slipped]

Calm down kiddo, I’m just giving you a hard time!!!!!!

[Though they had been laughing seconds ago, their happiness quickly died down into silence at his almost pitiful little apology, all the joy of the moment killed for them seeing him genuinely ashamed from what they had intended as nothing more than kidding around. They did not stop him as he withdrew from their physical affection, only huffing with regret at their words.

Death’s name, they needed to figure out where they kept going wrong whenever they tried to play with Artie… he might not have started crying like he did last time, but it still certainly didn’t land well. It was times like these that they wished they remembered more about being human, as they could only imagine their issues with communication stemmed from visitors being far more solitary than humans… or perhaps they were just innately as bad with words as they were with pronouncing them. The thought led them back to wonders about their human life as well. Not every true visitor had sharp and inhuman looking teeth, but of the ones they knew that did, none of them had quite the same issues Pink did with forming words. Pearl had teeth too long for her mouth, just like them, and yet she hardly had any issues with speech! So, perhaps their struggles dated back to their human life? They supposed that made enough sense.

As for the family their human self might have had, they could be somewhat certain that they had never had children of their own. While their memory was unreliable, enough that the name of their mother was fuzzy in their memory, and enough that they could not recall their own gender, they couldn’t imagine they would forget something as important to them as a child!! Further, they were absolutely certain they never had a spouse, since there was no trace of anything with enough wear to be a wedding ring in the collection of rings they had awoken as a visitor with… and if they had no spouse, they couldn’t have had biological children!!

No, they were sure that Artie is their single child, and they imagine he always will be… up until the day he brings them a daughter in law, of course. They picture the day in their mind briefly, a smile on their face.]

Eh, it doesn’t really get much dumber than “Pink”…… or “big bird”……

[They laughed shortly as they recalled just about every terrible name they’d been given by various humans, almost all of them being terrible, much moreso than something as normal as “Arthur”. “Pink” was probably the kindest one they had been given, unsurprisingly bestowed upon them by the Therapist, though “Crowface” or “Birdface” was the oldest and most common one they heard, tied with a variety of curses. The only one that really bugged them, however, was being called “big bird” by anyone who wasn’t a little kid… it felt diminishing in ways that curses never really did.

Their favourite though, as of this moment, had to be “Baba”.]

It’s perfect, kid……

[They spoke with nothing but honest, genuine parental love in their voice, their single slitted eye dilated with that same overwhelming emotion. They never imagined when they met Artie that they’d ever even consider him a friend, let alone that he would be one of their 3 favourite people, but they regret nothing about the way things played out. They wouldn’t have it any other way.]

[carrying-coins]

Oh. Okay.

<he shifts, leaned back up against their side with a sigh.>

Sometimes I can’t tell if people’re seriously pissed at me or jus’ playin’. Better t’ be sorry than t’ risk being lonely.. y’know?

<he doesn’t care to offer an apology much to somebody he isn’t particularly close to. Why waste energy and pride on somebody who you probably wouldn’t see again? He only gets worked up once it’s somebody he cares for. Then it becomes a precarious situation.. risk apologizing for something they didn’t actually mind, and ruin the mood, or risk them leaving in the case that they were serious? He typically walks a fine line between oversensitive and an entirely apathetic asshole. To take it too seriously is a sign of fragility, sensitivity, insecurity, but to leave it without apology where apology is due means you’re an emotionless monster, too proud of yourself to stoop so low as to say sorry. He’s somehow perpetually wrong in his judgment of these situations. Whatever. They don’t seem particularly upset with him, so he doesn’t mind it past pushing it into his ever-growing store of failed social interactions.>

<he nestles his bony body into the crook of their bonier body, sharp ground against sharp, bones on bones, as they begin speaking again.>

Ha- big bird? Wow, the people here are real creative, huh?

<the phrase sticks in his mind. Truly, they are just a big bird, vulture-ish in their habits, appearance and posture. And he’s no better than the egg nestled beneath their warm wing.>

<he hadn’t imagined a single outcome to his initial approach of them. Truly, not a thing had crossed his mind- no particular goal to complete, only a vague curiosity propelling him forward. He’s been rewarded beyond what he was due, and he revels in it, receiving some infinitely distant attention that he hadn’t hardly been capable of conceptualizing before. And now he’s got it at the tips of his fingers, held firmly in both palms. Everything he’d been starved of growing up, and now he’s got a feast. It’s an overwhelming thing to consider.> I know.. everythin’ I do is perfect, really. <he grins, nearly smugly, as though that hadn’t watched him fall down in various senses about a hundred times by this point.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Just as quickly as they had accepted Artie distancing himself from their affection, they accepted his return, resting their chin atop his head once again.]

I get it, I’m not any better……

[Though, they at least had the excuse of being a visitor to explain their lacking social skills, as opposed to Artie’s less innate inability with words. For that same reason, they couldn’t quite understand why Artie would be so worried about being alone, when a solitary animal like themselves thrived in isolation.

While they would never dare to say it out loud, there were things they missed about the time of their visitorhood before they were so… “domesticated”. Before they felt the need to wear a mask and a hundred coats to cover the whole of their monstrous body, before they felt guilty enough about eating to go hungry over it, before they cared about anyone besides Pearl. It isn’t bad, not being such a wild thing anymore, but it’s hungry. So, so hungry. ]

The kid with the lollipopssssss came up with that one…… he’s the only one allowed to call me it……

[A few others had tried to borrow the name since the kid had come up with it, none of them individuals Pink had particularly liked to begin with, but even out of the mouths of people they didn’t mind, the words felt so incredibly degrading. The kid was really the only one with enough innocence in his heart to say it without it feeling so reductive.]

Sure kid, whatever you ssssssay……

[They briefly pulled away from Artie to straighten up their back, stretching out their arms in front of them as they spoke, an odd sight with their truly incredible claws. Death’s name, how long had they been talking? Surely quite a while, if they felt this stiff!! They’d been planning to eat something tonight… well, they supposed they might still have time if they left now.]

Alright…… well, I’d love to sssssstick around and keep talking, but time’s ticking, and I can’t remember the last time I ate…… I’ll be back tomorrow??????

[They asked, not daring to forget about their offer to help him with Amorette, the kid needed the break after all!! They pushed themselves back up to their feet with assistance from the wall, a long groan accompanying the action, before they glanced back in through the window at her once again. Oh, what a precious thing she was.]

[carrying-coins]

Ohh… that tracks.

<a small grin occupies his face. The kid is notorious for handing out the most demeaning nicknames in such a charming and innocent manner, that you could hardly help but bow your head and accept them as your own. Pink “Big bird”… somethinglastname, Arthur “Tutu” Krysyuk, and arkadij had a horrendous slew of titles, if Artie recalls correctly.. he purses his lips in anxious frown, contemplating. He hadn’t seen arkadij in what, a month and some change now? Maybe less. He’s not very sure, he couldn’t even name the day of the week, in all honesty. Enough time for Artie to get walking again. He turns to pink again as they retract from his side, biting his lips in consideration of how to phrase his next words. A favour.. again. You’re really not meant to ask for too many, he’d been told, but this one is rather small, and maybe if he phrases it right pink don’t mind so much.>

Uhm… this’s kinda random, but if- d’you know Arkadij? With the.. black hair an’ he sorta reeks of booze an’ cigarettes? He’s a visitor.. anyway, if you see him would you tell me? I looked for him a while back, but it didn’t go so good, an’ now I’ve got ettie all up in my business, so…

<the faint memory of his and Ilya’s argument drifts into focus… then Wasp, his uncanny and perpetually-pleasant grin. That hadn’t been all that long ago, only a day or two before stumbling across amorette, but if wasp wasn’t lying, then arkadij was last seen a little under two weeks ago, by this point? So…. Probably still alive? He purses his lips again, relaxed, then once more. His signature precursor to gnawing his lips bloody.>

<he returns his attention to them again, just in time to catch them stretching out. Their claws flex similarly to penny’s when she’s stretching, or kneading, and his grin returns at the connection.>

Oh, yeah. Okay. <their talk about eating reminds him very quickly how hungry he is, a freight train of a distraction from his thoughts ruminating over Arkadij. He’d been forgetting to eat, too busy feeding Amorette instead, or stealing bits of sleep where he could. Again, the thought of her lack of presence, even with as much as he’s grown to care for her, comes as an ungodly relief, true euphoria. The notion of sleep alone renders him just about ready to ascend.>

<he stands with them, and instantly the crushing weight of holding himself up vertically just about kills him. He leans on the better of his legs with a groan, hip cracking loudly beneath the weight of his upper body, his lower back tight, and aching as though he’d been compressed beneath a gravity far greater than the earth possesses. He stretches his arms skyward in an attempt at alleviating the tension building in his back, midriff flashed beneath the hem of his shirt, though he finds no success in his endeavor. With a huff, he abandons his search for comfort, figuring he’ll go in through the window, take amorette and sit right back down. No problem.>

See you tomorrow, baba. <he waves them off the school grounds half-heartedly, grin curling his lips at the corners as they leave. The moment they’re gone he intends to tumble through the window and rest forever. At very least, he fantasizes about it.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[At the mention of the name “Arkadij” they scanned through their incredibly limited memories for someone of that description… and though they were certain they had seen someone matching that description before, perhaps a younger visitor they’d shared food with, they did not recall their name, and they could be certain it was not in the last few days anyway. They supposed he must be a friend of Artie’s, and so someone they wouldn’t mind looking out for.]

I don’t think I know him, but I’ll keep my eye out……I’ll ssssssee you around kid……

[With a last look back at him, they scaled the fence bordering the school grounds, shooting one more glare Ilya’s direction before they wandered off into the night.]

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

*A polite voice interupted whatever Pearl was doing.*

- Excuse me, miss Pearl ?

*The young tour guide took a strand of her long black hair and put it behind her hair.*

- I would like t-to have a little chat with you, i-if you are okay with that of course !

*By the sound of her voice and the way she played with her bloodied hands, Lucie was going to ask for a big favor... Or something very ankward. Or not ? She was knowed for her mood swings, and showed either a carefree and tone-deaf happy personality, or a very polite, shy and nervous one. This Lucie was the later.*

- It's about... Being a visitor.

*She said it like a teenage daughter asking her mother for a womanly talk...*

- @tie-girl-lucie 🪼

[Pearl had been reading in the library, something she had been spending most of her free time at the school doing since Lasha had gifted her that copy of Frankenstein. She sat on a small nest of pillows, with her legs curled up beneath her, hidden by the sparkling blue fabric of her dress, in such a way she reminded Lucie of a mermaid resting on a rocky outcrop. Her shining blue eyes met Lucie’s once she heard the younger woman’s voice.]

Oh, you!! I have seen you around the school, yes, sit down.

[She gestured to the carpeted floor across from her with an inviting look, not quite a smile but somewhere close to it, before she inserted a bookmark into the book spread across her lap and flipped it closed.]

About being a visitor? Well, for a start, you do not need to call me by a name if there is no humans around, names are part of human culture, not ours.

[She said that with the sort of tone you might hear from a teacher telling you that using their first name is fine. It was breaking some sort of wall of formality and lessening the feeling of a power difference, even if Pearl was still more knowledgeable and older, it felt a little less intimidating to approach her.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

*Frankenstein was a very good choice. Lucie gave a little smile at Pearl when she closed the book, and accepted to sit next to her. She was a out of this world looking woman, well, visitor, and her smell...*

- Did anyone ever tell you you reminded them of the ocean ? You... Smell like the Atlantique. Sorry, that was a weird thing to say ! Hum...

*She ankwardly coughed in her fist, her bloody hand leaving a trail of red on her chin as she did. She desperatly licked it, as discreet as possible...*

- But what am I supposed to call you, then ? Miss Nothing ? It's a bit rude, no ?

*Lucie and her obsession with politness and rules of society...*

- So, names are useless ? Shall I not present myself ?

*Quickly, she tried to remove her lanyard... It held a badge reading : "Hello, my name is Lucie. I am a nice visitor. DO NOT SHOOT". Miraculously, it seemed to work, as she was still alive. But she was now concious of how pathetic it looked and, magenta-faced, put it in the back pocket of her trousers.*

- Aha...

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Yes, I have heard that a few times… I am somewhat certain I became a Visitor after I drowned, which I think is why I look and smell like I do now.

[She said that in a matter-of-fact manner, seemingly rather unbothered to know how her life ended, or Lucie’s comment about the effects of it, though she did not remember the entirety of the night she died. She could recall her husband coming home late, she could recall a very heated fight with him, she remembered things getting physical, and she remembered her clothes being soaked when she came back from the dead, little more than that. None of which she was intending to tell someone she’d just met!]

It is only rude in human culture, just “miss” is fine here. Many of us have no names, and while it is not wrong to have one, we tend to assume those around us do not have one. Does that make sense?

[She could come up with a dozen examples of nameless visitors herself, including many Lucie likely knew well… herself, her partner, the pale man, the ballerina, the shivering man, none of whom were referred to by names, either they were titles, or they were pronouns.

She mirrored Lucie’s smile, but hardly reacted to Lucie coughing up blood, given it was a common sight for visitors to be bleeding from any place imaginable. Her partner especially was no exception, with their easily torn skin around their surgical sites, and their shoulders that she so loved to tear into, claws and teeth both.]

What else did you have to ask me?

[tie-girl-lucie]

- It makes sens... But I feel like it's very, very important to still be a person, even right now. You can call me the girl in the tie, or the purple girl, or just miss, as you wish. But to be fair, madame, I'd prefer if you would call me Lucie.

*Such a polite way to refer to someone. She tried to learn quick, as that mentor figure might be as quickly gone as the others !

But to be fair, Lucie was not smilling very much anymore.*

- So... you remember how and when you died ?

*She held her breath, her red hands in front of her pink mouth, in shock. Drowning ! So painful ! But also so beautiful...*

- I still dont. And no one saw me die either. I met the Pale Man some months ago, and then, I became sick... And a bit sicker every day. And I cannot find a turning point between Human and Visitor. Everyone seems to remember something. Being at F.E.M.A for Ilias, melting in the sun for Augus, you drowning, Koda and Beetle being shot... But me ? I don't remember dying ! What if I'm not ?

*Despite not being delusional on her visitor status anymore, Lucie still held the hope she was alive and never died, and thus was a special and privileged visitor, maybe an incomplete one, maybe there was hope !

There was none. She simply forgot how much the sickness took her and her long agony in the Old House's attic. She passed away in her sleep, almost peacefully, without a soul to notice. When she woke up the next day, she was a bit hungrier than usual and her head hurt, nothing more, nothing less.

It was a long and dreadfull curse but even worse was her hope.*

- So it makes me think... Is there any way for me, and for others to... Go back ?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, we are not human, but not having names does not make us lesser, Lucie, we are just changing our language to match who we are. Remember how you said I smelled like the ocean? Every one of us smells distinct, it is how we identify each other instead.

[She hid her offense, no matter how many times she heard a new visitor innocently misunderstand the conventions of their culture as dehumanizing, it never ceased to annoy her. Distancing from humanity was largely the point, after all, to allow Visitors as a species to form community independent of their prey and single largest threat! Lucie will understand with time, she figured, the Therapist was politely curious in her same manner after all and he had integrated excellently so far… likely, Lucie will too.]

I… well, I do not remember how or when exactly. Most do not remember how it happened in any detail, I only know I was soaked with water not too far away from the lake when I came back to my senses, so I figured I had to have drowned. You may be the same, Lucie, you just might not have had any clues like I had.

[She likely would not have known she was dead herself if she hadn’t changed so drastically upon her resurrection, after all… she might have just brushed it off as her falling asleep at the beach if she came back looking roughly the same. Though, by Lucie’s tone, she figured the younger woman had long suspected the truth, but denied it in hopes it would make a difference in her fate for her to do so. Her blue eyes, sharp and shining like ice, scraped over every line in Lucie’s face, trying to discern more information.]

Well, the only way to tell apart a visitor is by scent, there is no other line between human and an average visitor. No “sign” that FEMA insists on is credible, and death is not an explicit requirement to become a visitor either. There certainly is a line between regular visitors and true visitors though, or “supervisitors” as I have heard us called… I hope that much is obvious from our appearances.

[She was more than aware of exactly what differentiated a standard visitor from one like herself, though it was something she would not tell to anyone who was not ready for the truth… well, not explicitly. The only one in recent memory she intends to tell directly is the Therapist, he had absolutely proved himself prepared for it, however she would offer Lucie a hint in the right direction, as she would any other visitor…]

That is to say, Lucie, I have an honestly pathetic nose for someone of our kind… but I did not know if you were human or not until you got close enough to smell... I can confirm, you are one of us. You may not have died, or you may have not remembered it, but that makes no difference. You are one of us now, and there is no turning back.

[tie-girl-lucie]

- Sooo... What you mean is that all visitors know each other, like... A secret society ? And... Everyone just has other ways of identification ? By smell ?

*She was a bit confused, but her heart was in the right place. And it did make sens for her, given her new senses. Her ears were stronger than her nose or eyes, but seeing in the dark and smelling preys around was a damn useful tool and she grew accepting of it. But she was still overwhelmed most of the time, and the headphones she wore were a sign of how she tried to accomodate the others rather than simply leaving the place for a silent and calm retreat... Like the others did. Like her dear Beetle...*

- How does it work ? I received no memo or... Or anything to help, really. Is it only "True Visitors" who hold a council ? Or... Or is it like telepathy ? Am I a "weaker visitor" ?

*She shut up to listen to the woman's words, and smiled at her answers. Finally ! Maybe the start of... Something else. But was it good ? Lucie wanted to stay human ! Not join them ! There was no need for a divide !*

- Yes ! I took notes about that, wait !

*Seeking for her journal, Lucie proudly showed her notes on visitors and all the observations she made. Most of it was probably false, but her register of all the visitors around might be usefull. She also kept a clean timeline of events, and that was quite a weird work in their situation...

But at the other's last words, Lucie lost her smile, head low, watching her bloody hands that were "not a credible sign." Just anxiety. Just eczema.*

- Well, you... You don't know that !

*Denial and anger.*

- Maybe there is. It's like a disease, surely there is a cure ! If we search hard enough... I am trying to get my body to stomach human food and I have yet to murder anyone, despite turning months ago !

*She says it with pride, very happy of her lackluster capacities. In all truth, she was a disaster holding by a thread, but that bargaigning with destiny was better than nothing, surely.*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Oh, no, we certainly do not all know each other, there is millions of us all around the world, but I do know nearly all of us in the immediate area well enough. You will soon as well, there is not that many faces to remember. It is not much of a secret society at all, nothing I may tell you here is something you must keep secret… well, keep it secret to FEMA, but I hope you know by now to keep your distance from them.

[By this point in her visitor life, she had grown to think of speaking’s without using names as so normal, she found it strange whenever she came across another Visitor so insistant on sticking to a group they no longer belonged to. It felt a little bit like how she did while reading Frankenstein, like hopping back in time to read words that weren’t necessarily wrong, but they were anything but something she was acquainted with.]

Yes, most new visitors are not lucky enough to be immediately informed by another Visitor, but most end up having this exact conversation soon or later, as we really do not have a more efficient option…

[She thought again of the Therapist, as she thought of exactly the sort of organization her and other true visitors have. It wasn’t something as formal as a council, any human could spontaneously become another member of their group after all… but, the choice to consciously allow someone to join their ranks, as the Therapist soon would, was somewhat like a council electing a new member. Perhaps they were a council, more than just leaders followed because of their knowledge and power.]

And, I suppose you could call it a council, but yes, the few of us who are true Visitors do know things no other human or visitor does. It is for the best that what we do know is not shared, though.

[Pearl glanced over Lucie’s writings as she presented her journal to the older woman with her best Poker face, trying not to let judgement or difficulty show too much. She struggled to read much of what Lucie had written, she had not read much in her nearly 60 years of being alive, nor was she familiar with cursive. But what she could make out… trying to turn back human? “Mutations”? Was this a theory on her fiancé? Lucie seems to have been acquainted with them, why didn’t she ask them these questions instead?? She seems to have met Him as well, why did she wait to ask her specifically??]

Disease? Hah, no, that was an idea invented by FEMA. No, Lucie, we are not sick humans, we are either dead, or we might as well be, and no matter of diet will turn a fried egg into a rooster. It is why we eat humans, because our own bodies are rotting by the minute, and they must be replaced with fresh meat.

[She dared to laugh at the ridiculous notion that becoming a visitor was a reversible process, especially that something as simple as resisting the temptation to eat human meat or kill would somehow make a difference. This was no bridge that could be freely walked between, it was at best a cragged 300 metre cliff atop a violent sea, where approaching the certain death of the bottom was far too easy, even if the waves and winds did not knock you down involuntarily, but recovering from any sort of fall was wholly impossible.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

T.W : kind of a gorey / weird description of being dead ?

*Chubby cheeks up in a smile, eyes sparkling with hope and her curiosity being satisfied, Lucie felt her heart fall back in her stomach when the nameless woman who smelled like the sea laughed at the most important work of her life. Or of her death, in all reality.

Slowly, Lucie's smile dropped, and the glossy light in her eyes dimmed down letting her look like a dead fish washed away on shore. Pupils wide but empty of both soul and life. She stared at the beautiful woman stupidly, looking quite dumb with her semi parted lips, dried and bleeding, perfect teeth shining through it.

Lucie was dead.

Lucie died long ago.

Lucie would never be alive again.

The warmth of her body was gone and the liquid smoothness of her skin was eruding for good. Her hands were a start but already it was gaining her wrists and her feet were even worst and worse again. Her eyes were dulling day after day and her lips were cracked forever, red not in make up but in stagnant blood. Her blood was static in her cold veins, slowly turning brown, and her heart was never to pump again unless she ate a fresher one.

She was never to feel Beetle's body by her side again and she was never to have a family with him as her womb was as rotten as the rest of her. No amount of Pax's teasing would change that fact.

She was never to find her family again in France or she would offer her parents the rotting body of their long lost daughter, who died in a foreign land far away from her home. Her sister would run away at the smell alone. No amount of flowery perfume would change that fact.

She was never to feel the taste of salted butter on her tongue again. Even her tears had the disgusting taste of ashes. And no amount of training would change that fact.

Yet her bloodshot eyes quickly fill with yellow teinted tears smelling of decay. The white eggsack of a fly fall down her cheek, chased off it's "home" in her tear canal. It had been a long time since she ever saw herself in a mirror.

Curled in a little ball, head in her bloody hands, hidding it all in her knees, Lucie cried and cried again as her eyes opened to the cold truth. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead.

She did not answer the woman, who gave her so much information. She was incapable of letting anything go past the knot in her throat except sobs she was desperatly trying to control. The realisation she was chocking on her own despair was crossing her mind as she felt breathless and her purple skin turned a beautiful indigo.

Trying to hold some sort of dignity, wich was quite impossible at the realisation hit after hit that she was DEAD and NEVER TO TURN THAT AROUND, Lucie scrambled to get back her silly journal, that left her "mentor" so unimpressed. Let water destroy it, it was a bunch of nonsense anyway !*

- S-Sorry I b-b-bothered you with... A-all that. I... I r-really... I tho- I w-wanted to be special.

*It was not coming out at all at dignified, polite, or even coherent.

But what was a dead girl supposed to do anyway ?*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Pearl’s amusement faded as she watched Lucie break, that sparkle in her eyes draining from her face as shining tears. But, she did not reach out to comfort the younger visitor, she did not mirror Lucie’s sadness, she only stared blankly, confused.

As she watched Lucie break down into a hysterical, sobbing mess… she couldn’t understand why Lucie was so upset. She had stopped smiling, but her expression never once pivoted to pity, or empathy, those pretty blue eyes of her remained cold. Come on, it was pretty obvious she was dead and rotten, and it’s not like being dead itself is something miserable!! Pearl wasn’t throwing tantrums or being so horribly dramatic about this, because death… or Death, she could say, was nothing to be so upset about. Death was the best thing to ever happen to her, really! So… why was Lucie acting like this?? Was it something Pearl said?

Her mind jumped to running through every explanation that made sense to her… all words and all actions had a motive for their expression, she knew that well, and it just didn’t make sense that Lucie would be actually upset about this. Crocodile tears? …maybe, though Lucie was ugly crying, usually tears to invite guilt were prettier than this. Wait… Lucie did have many theories about other visitors in her journal, and she grabbed it back very roughly from her…

She had figured it out. Lucie must have hated her from the start, there must be pages and pages of insults directed at Pearl written down in that journal, and Lucie had started crying and grabbed the book back so Pearl wouldn’t see everything she had said!! She should have known from Lucie’s veneer of human politeness, all of it was just pretty little lies!! She bet Lucie thought she was a dalit turned foreign whore as a human, which is exactly why she came back as the sirenish thing she is know!! She bet Lucie thought she was hideous in her old age!! She bet Lucie knew of the sickness of her mind, and believes she should have never left the loony house!! Pearl’s pretty blue eyes grew dark as she drew her conclusions, looking down at Lucie with a poker face masking her new feelings about the younger visitor.]

Why are you… doing that?

[The words fell out of her mouth, regretfully, as she scrambled to switch her mask. Lucie had no longer earned her true thoughts, so she pivoted back to the politeness she had always greeted those she did not particularly like with. Now, what are you supposed to say when someone’s crying, in polite society… think Pearl, think!! You are a proper woman, you know manners well!! Tell her something she wants to hear!!]

I mean… do not cry, it is not so bad when you get used to it.

[She hoped that was the socially correct thing to say in a situation like this… she had no idea though, she was terrible with people even before they locked her up.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

*Lucie's mind was too innocent and too self-absorbed to realise what was happening in her new "visimentor"'s mind. For her, the ankwardness and relative coldness of the stranger was due to surprise and maybe a bit of shyness, and nothing mean spirited. After all, werent they all meant to be in the same team, all working together hand in hand for... For what ? For Her ? For the end of Humanity ?*

- NO ! No please ! I don't want to do it ! I don't want to be a visitor !

*Lucie was rotting away and soon, if no other visitor took pity on her, she would have to...

Her "rookie status" was fading away with time. Her refusal to kill was less and less cute and more and more annoying for the others. Her despair was not endearing and touching but a nuisance for visitors, and a pathetic attempt at manipulation for humans. But Lucie was genuine in everything. She was no liar. She was no smart manipulator. She was no hidden evil, just a bomb ready to explose...

The other never landed her a hand, but it not deter Lucie to pathetically throw herself at her feet, in a begging position.*

- Turn me back ! Please, you know so many things, there must be a way ! I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't want to be DEAD either ! Please, please, please help me !

*Her voice was high piched in despair, throat so closed she almost chocked on her words, all breathless and ugly faced.*

- I don't want to get used to it ! I was very happy before ! I have a loving family, I had a job I loved, I had nice friends and good coworkers, I- I had one I... I found special and now she is a human still and even if we call sometimes I... I canno't ever see her again...

*Oh, Lucie, you truly are the saddest kitten in a cardboard box on the side of the road ever.

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were indeed meant to be on the same team, together in whatever exactly was the end goal of and supposed to be on friendly terms at that… however, her definition of “friendly” extended only to not being openly hostile to her own side. Though, reflexively pulling her legs away from Lucie as she drew too close to her was not an intentional dig at the younger visitor, her briefly wide eyes made that clear enough. Her expression quickly settled back to something cold and venomous, as she tucked her legs beneath her sparkling blue dress.]

If you want me to tell you the truth, you have to accept that what I say is honest, girl. There is no way for you to turn back. This is it.

[For further emphasis, she decided not to use Lucie’s name anymore. It was visitor culture to abandon it after all, she could do to get used to it. Two trains of thought rolled along on the same track in her mind, thoughts which should contradict in an average mind, cars which should crash in a mess of flames, but they continued along anyway. At the same time, Lucie was a stupid, clueless girl, insulting Pearl purely because she didn’t know better, and she was also a manipulative, cruel individual crying and throwing her weight around with malicious intent to her every action.

In her mind, Lucie had not earned honesty, she had earned Pearl’s spiteful smile… but, she knew the truth would be more difficult to bear now, and a lie would only justify Lucie’s behaviour, so she continued on.]

But if what you missed about being human was your family and your friends, well, they could be turned too… I would have to see if they have the potential for it, not every human does!!

[Her smile did not reach her eyes, lifeless as a fish on a market display.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

T.W : Gorey descriptions.

*"This is it."

No more, no less. This was it.

Everything was going downsouth, lately. Lasha. Apollyon. Spiral. Beetle. Koda. Rei. Everyone was hating her, leaving her, or going worse and worse. This was it. The beggining of the end.

She was right. That nameless woman in her princess dress, refusing Lucie her name, refusing her even a physical contact, was as cold as the truth. Lucie shivered. All her dead meat was feeling frozen. Suddenly, she was aware of the rot. The only life within her was parasitic. Larvae and flies. She could feel them squirming inside, tickling her insides, buzzing in her head.

She wept more silently now. Her face was full of those yellowish tears, staining her elegant button down and tie. Purple, red, yellow, blue and green, a little clown, a sad rainbow.*

- ... Give me all the truth you are willing to share. I will listen.

*Her voice was broken, but she now sensed how upset her visimentor was. Surely she disliked such an emotional outburst. Lucie tried to clean herself with her sleeves, but to no avail. She was stained.*

- ... Turned ? N-no. They leave in France, and there are no more planes or even trains... I... I'll think about a way.

*A good way to not say how horrified she was at the idea of turning her loved ones the same way she had. Anything but that ! Wasnt Death kinder ?*

- Most of my friends are already visitors anyway. My lover too but he... He dissapeared, recently. I don't know where he is...

*Dead. Probably dead. Was it the fault of this F.E.M.A agent ? Someone else ? Or was her dear Beetle mourning away his terrible gesture ?*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

If you promise you will listen…

[Seeing Lucie regress into something calmer, Pearl decided to give her grace, a second chance. Seeing, and more importantly smelling that rotten rainbow leaking from the dead girl before her, she decided to offer Lucie some fleeting, genuine kindness. She produced a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress, her face slightly scrunched up as she leaned forward to hand it over to Lucie. Death’s name, this girl needed to get herself something to eat.]

Your lover? What does he look like? I am sure one of us has seen him, that is the beauty of community!

[Pearl could find some kindness in her heart for Lucie’s lover, if only for a fleeting moment…. Pink and her have been separated quite a few times, it was a very common issue for visitors that patrolled such large swathes of land to lose track of one another, especially for a visitor with a nose as weak as Pearl’s. Even in this present moment, she was still worried for them, worried they may not have survived after the ordeal Artie got himself into. She wanted so desperately to come home and see they’re alright, and yet, she dreaded what she might find where her partner should be.

Yet, her mind was not in the right place, and soon that brief concern started to twist again. No, Lucie knew Pink, and as a visitor she must know how common it is for one to lose track of another… she must be saying what she is because she’s trying to pry unearned concern out of her!! That ditzy personality was all just an act, and these words must be another part of it!! Despite her intent to give Lucie the benefit of the doubt, her blue eyes stayed cold, dangerous and dark as the hadal zone.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

- I WILL ! I will...

*Regretting her shouting, Lucie spoke softer now, raising a hand over her mouth as an apology.*

- I promise I will listen. I just don't want to be alone... Please... If you know anything...

*She would promise anything. Any thing.

Suddenly self aware of her own ugliness and uselessness right this moment, Lucie could only beg for forgiveness. She did not know her crime but years and years of social anxiety and people pleasing teached her when someone just... Disliked her. Why ? Oh, that she did not know. But this tone, those eyes, the way she moved away from her... It was all so familiar. So when the other offered this promise, Lucie took it with both hands. It was like a saving boat with just one tiny place left... For her if she squeezed into it.

And when she so mercifully handed her this little piece of fabric for Lucie to dry her tears and blow her nose as politely as possible, she felt like she did something better, by being submissive and pathetic. Even tho she did not miss the grimace -who could blame her ? Lucie smelled AWFUL !-, she decided to continue this way. It seemed more efficient than false hype and confidence.*

- He is not very tall. Short brown hair and fair skin. The most beautiful green eyes... Red sclera. Some freckles and beauty marks on his face... Kind of fit, and... Soft looking. He should have round glasses and a kind face... He is the most tender man there ever was. If you know anything...

*Could such a man really exist ? Was this real or simple the romanticism of a young woman, an artist at that, speaking over the truth ?*

- I have searched for him everywhere. Alive or dead, I smelled him nowhere. He just vanished after... After his first kill. I think he could not face it. He knew the kid and... It was ugly.

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Good.

[Pearl replied shortly, sourly… it appeared Lucie’s vulnerability fueled her unexplainable hatred even more than her polite lies. “I don’t want to be alone”… Pearl knew well what a lie that was. Lucie had made herself clear, that she knew all there was to know about Pearl, and she despised every bit of it. Lucie knew about Pearl’s time in the lunatic asylum, how much of a schizo she was, how she would rip out her hair and hit herself over and over again just to feel some sort of stimulation between meals. Lucie knew too about how the white walls of the school made her remember those horrible days and worse nights alone in that white room, and Lucie laughed at her for it.]

Oh, no I do not believe I have seen him then… condolences.

[Her apology was empty, a kindness for her given exactly what she had convinced herself of for Lucie’s nature. If nothing else, she was committed to her job, and given it meant avoiding physical violence with her coworkers, she would manage to control herself. Really, if she calmed herself down out of this spiral, she might still fetch something for Lucie to eat… it would be out of duty to her community alone, but still. However, her civility quickly melted away as she spoke again.]

Well, not all of us are cut out for this way of life… perhaps the guilt was too much alone…

[Pearl spoke coldly, knowing exactly what her words implied… if Lucie would torment her, Pearl thought it only fair to be exactly as cruel back. He was dead for good, and it was her fault. ]

[tie-girl-lucie]

- Oh...

*Squeezing her terrible hands together, Lucie felt salty tear drops burn her flesh even further.

Plic, ploc, plic, ploc, just falling on her praying hands.*

- I see. I... I guess... I guess you dont know everyone, surely. Maybe...

*The purple woman was trying to keep it together but her denial and trembling lips were so very pathetic and ugly she had to look away. She was such an histerical mess. No wonder someone as put together, elegant and mature as this woman would judge her to be disgusting !

Lucie got up silently, on trembling legs, trying so hard to stay dignified. The tissue was a lifeline but it couldnt reallt handle all her yellow tears and soon it was only a wet fluo, smelly mess.

But she had to say something to the woman who was so nice to her and tried her best to help. Of course her tone was cold and her eyes were judging her but that was what a teacher was supposed to be like. Pax could be cruel too, sometimes. But she was more huggable and sister like.

Would Pearl hug poor Lucie ? No certainly not. Maybe Lucie didnt even deserve it anymore. After all she died and couldnt be a good corpse and stay dead. She dissobeyed the most important law of Nature. She was an insult to Life itself. She ate so many disgusting things, cooking it to play normalcy. She hurt Star. She attacked the Homeowner. She let Pavel fall into despair and let Spiral and Koda meet their fates. Oh she was a rotten, rotten girl !*

- ... T-Thank y-you fo-for trying... You are... V-very nice.

*She couldnt resist her pain anymore and started sobbing even harder after this point. This was hell. She needed to go calm down somewhere !

Of course she knew how it was. Even herself... After her first attack... Didnt she flee to her own old appartement, only to destroy it and rot in those dirty walls ? Hadnt Pax and her dear Beetle came for her, wouldnt she had done... What the supervisitor implied Beetle did ?

Oh. Her beautiful Pavel. So gentle and loving. The softest soul ever, and so moral and empathetic ! No wonder he couldnt.*

- I *hic* ... I think I already k-kinda... knew. Oh... My baby... My baby...

*Her heart died a second time.*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Pearl stared blankly at Lucie as the other visitor broke down, her rage slowly dying out at the sight of the crying woman before her, until only an empty pit remained. She felt little sympathy for Lucie, such a feeling was one of many she could never quite conjure, but shame settled in her chest like a great black bear, overwhelming in its weight. She shouldn’t have been insulting Lucie like that, that was miles too far, especially when Pearl is supposed to be the more mature of the two. Death’s sake, what is her problem, letting her mind wander off into a spiral like that?

Okay, she had to fix this, she made this mess, how does she clean it up? What’ll get Lucie to stop crying? She’s crying about her partner, obviously, but Pearl really does have no idea where he is, or if he’s alive or not… wait, Pink usually stops crying if Pearl gets them something to eat, maybe that’ll work on Lucie too!

Now, what’ll buy her some time to hunt something… she has time in the night, but what’ll keep Lucie occupied enough to not marinate on Pearl’s words too much… actually, she knows just the thing!

As Lucie rose to a stand, Pearl stood up with her, gently taking the younger woman’s wrist with one hand, to avoid touching her truly rancid hands. With the other hand, Pearl brushed her own wavy black hair out of her face, allowing for easier reading of her expression, before she rested that same hand on Lucie’s shoulder, a gesture she hoped meant something positive. She had honestly no idea what she was doing with any of this of course, she’d not had to keep someone besides Pink from crying in decades, and they were her fiance!! Still, she decided to give it a shot.]

No, I should not have said that, I am sorry…

[Pearl struggled to find the words for the message she hoped to convey, more than she often did speaking Russian as her third language. Hopefully Lucie could forgive her lack of tact alongside her insensitivity.]

Come on, I know somewhere nicer than this school to cry…

[She gently tugged on Lucie’s wrist, taking a step towards the library doors… she hoped her idea would work the same way it worked on Pink.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

*Quite fortunatly for Lucie, the young visitor was the "cuddly" type, and leaned into the touch of the other with great surrender. To Pearl's fright, she even seemed ready for a hug, but refrained politly.*

- This is so embarassing... I... I think I should go and calm d-down, so sorry to give myself in spectacle like that, not in my habits I swear... So sorry...

*Playing with her terrible and rancid hands, Lucie pulled at a loose skin piece, peeling a new little lign along her little finger. Then, to dispose of the skin spaghetti properly and politly, she ate it, discreetly, mouth hiden behind her other hand.

Than she did it again, following with small rapid steps. And with each little spaghetti, Lucie looked a bit calmer. Grounded.*

- ... Where are you taking me ?

*At least she was truly curious. Even tho she roamed the streets most nights, Lucie was new here, in this country, in this part of the city... It was all a discovery ! And so, deep within, her natural excitement and curiosity flared up, drying her tears a little.

She tried to keep her poor broken heart in a very closed box deep inside her soul. But she sucked with locks, secrets, and keeping any emotion to herself. She was just so sensitive. So fragile. So useless.

As a Museum Worker, it worked, of course. She was good with being polite and ressourceful. Following protocol. But as a visitor ? Oh, she sucked. And the person supposed to help her just saw quite a bad first impression ! Her cheeks were magenta in shame and sadness, head low, following like a very obedient employee.*

- I... I appreciate what you are doing for me, Madame. Forgive my fragility, it's just that... I..I... Miss so, so many people...

*A stop.*

- ... Do you miss some people from... "before" ?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Pearl only gripped Lucie’s shoulder a little tighter in response to her suggestion to leave, despite having too difficult of a time finding appropriate words to reply, and despite her disgust with Lucie’s autocannibalism. No, she was going to fix this, she was going to do the right thing, she wasn’t going to let Lucie run off and do… what Pearl assumed she would.]

No, I want you to come with me to the lake, it is calm and open there. No… white walls.

[Really, Pearl too could do to get outside for a bit anyway, if only to escape the school for a while. The white walls, so lifeless and cold, brought back horrid memories, which felt more and more recent as Pearl spent time in a place so identical to where they happened. There may be more people here this time, but Pearl wasn’t ignorant enough to trust most of them to be better than the staff at the lunatic asylum.

She calmed herself with thoughts of the lake, as she led Lucie outdoors, past Ilya standing guard. She greeted them with a smile and a respectful nod as she walked by.]

I met my fiance there, actually. I bring them there when they cry too.

[She revealed, as a way to keep the silence from building up tension as they walked, something she thinks people like Lucie would appreciate… hopefully. Pink likes quiet, but Lucie talks a lot, so she probably likes to hear talking, she guessed.]

…No. I never knew anyone worth missing until I became a Visitor.

[Pearl replied stiffly, honestly. She never had friends to miss in her human life, everyone besides her husbands driven away by either her horribly wrong mind, or her second husbands isolation. She didn’t have family to miss, they were all the way in Gujarat, thousands of kilometres away, not that she would miss people who would treat her how they did. All that left her with was her husbands… and all she felt of her memory of them was a teeth gritting, violent rage.

No, life had treated her cruelly, she was better off in Death.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

- ... Really ? Not a soul ?

*Pearl assumed wrong.

Lucie was too much of a coward to ever do anything against herself. Even after her little runaway, all she did was mop around, cry, and listen to sad musics on her red MP3, like a teenager really going through it. She had too much love for life to throw it away, even as devastated as she was. She had so much love to give everything and everyone.

A bit calmed down, Lucie followed like a very obedient employee. As they passed the FEMA guard, Lucie held her head low, and hid her hands in her pockets. Of course Ilya knew, but he nodded back at the both of them as they passed by. It seemed he never truly feared Pearl, and kept Lucie in check enough not to worry about her case too much. A domesticated weapon.

When they both were away enough, Lucie dared to speak again.*

- I guess I cannot imagine how lonely such a life must have been. I understand better why you made the switch so easilly, compared to me. I guess you died a long time ago already, in a way...

*Her curved brows furrowed, in a strike of genius.*

- Sorry. That was very rude.

*She prononced it "rood", almost. Her accent was thicker when her mouth ran wild, and she

- I can never keep my toungue tied. I didnt mean anything mean by it, it's just that I feel like I have lost so, so much. And some, well, they leave humanity with less regret.

*The Lake. She knew where it was, as she went there once. It was a romantic place, and quite peaceful. A break of nature in this suffocating city. That was a nice idea. But the tought "oh I wish I could bring Beetle there..." just destroyed her heart a bit further. But she dared not say it outloud, and just left a heavy sight out of her chest.*

- But me ? I just cant say "goodbye" yet.

*She counted on her fingers her visitor and human loved ones. She had a tiny bit more humans. Artie, Spiral, Lasha, her family, versus Koda, Pink, Pax, Reitaro, and Rocky. It was a close call. And if Pearl joined...

- I need to call my sister and tell her I love her. I have not heard her voice in such a long time... Emmanuelle. She must have turned 22 now. She's still in France, and safe. The phone here does not work very well but in the city I have found one that reaches far away still and... Sorry. I must bore you to death. Well... "second death" I guess... I shut up now. I promise.

*She followed with strong steps, not tired in the slightest. She looked strong, despite her shyness, and she walked those streets with confidence everynight. She seemed happier and less stressed outside, to tell the truth.*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Though Pearl hid it as well as she always did, she was incredibly by the notion that her life was meaningless because the people in her life meant nothing to her. Death’s sake, was this girl even real? Had she never made herself a good meal and enjoyed the taste? Never read a good book? Never let herself sink to the bottom of a pool just to hear the way the water bent the sounds of the world? Never stargazed? Life was more than the people in it, SO much more, so was death of course, so how could someone older than a CHILD think a life like Pearl’s was a wholly unfulfilling one?? Pearl grit her teeth and stared at Lucie with wide, angry eyes, the cage of teeth poking out through her lips locking together, as she held back her urge to slap some damn sense into Lucie. Visitor on visitor violence was something that nearly never occurred, and while Pearl wanted to keep it that way… this girl made her reconsider.]

No, I did not miss one soul, but I was not lonely, I just lived for me, not for other people. I still do, now. Even if every last person I cared about died right this second, I would keep living. I would cry, of course, but my reasons for wanting to be alive are independent of what anyone else around me.

[Pearl spoke with masked fury, unconsciously speaking louder than before as a result of her emotions. Thankfully for the both of them, the lake was not a long walk away in such a little town, so Pearl could get away with giving Lucie the silent treatment in the meantime, a break from speaking to the younger visitor she desperately needed after such an insult. She’d never given someone this many olive branches in hee life, just for them to snap each and every last one. She would avoid ever talking to this girl again after this if possible, she decided.

As they finally made it to the lake however, she calmed, staring out at the same water she had when she’d met Pink for the very first time. Before they’d had the bird mask or the fur coats. She didn’t look long at them, they made it obvious that they hated to be stared at, but she never thought they had the face of the “monster” they called themselves. The only thing she would change about them is giving them a mouth that could kiss her back. The good memories gave her enough will to hold out another olive branch, one which will certainly be burned like every last one she had given Lucie.]

I used to be an ice skater, when I was a lot younger, and I want to see winter come again after a summer like this, and hopefully get back out on the ice. That is what keeps me going, and even if I skate alone, I will be skating, and that’s what matters.

[tie-girl-lucie]

*To be perfectly fair, Lucie only enjoyed food when eating together with people, never liked going anywhere all alone, always trying to bring Beetle, Koda or Artie in her antics, and stargazed with them too. With Lasha too, sometimes. Lucie lived for people's appreciation and love, and hated solitude and isolation more than anything.

Pearl and her were just incompatible, as opposed as deep sea and space. Similar in their darkness and the little spots of lights here and there, mistakable for one another in the distance, but made to be ennemies when seen up close.

Yet Lucie didnt really get the "shut up and nod to everything she says" memo.*

- Oh... I see. I... I can try to imagine that, but, I must say I cannot understand it.

*She spoke with her hands, trying to get the point across more nicely.*

- Being alone... It's my worst fear in the world. When I slept alone in the attic, back to the old house, I put music every night, or listened to the people underneath to not feel too disconected...

*Not creepy at all, Lucie. Very normal.*

- Sorry, do I speak a lot ? ... Silence is fine !

*She lied, trying to be pleasant, but had to force her own mouth shut for the rest of the travel. She, instead, played with her hands and hummed softly to herself. She couldnt really stay quiet. It was as if she was scared of the silence itself.

The lake came as a relief for the both of them.*

- Skating ! That's so amazing. Id'love to see you on ice... ... ... Too bad there is not a lot of ice left... Oh ! Unless you have a secret cold place somewhere ???

*Anything was possible ! Pearl must know all the amazing secrets of visitors !

... No that was stupid. Even underneath the heart it must not be so cold... Surely it would be even hotter, no ?*

- ... No I am an idiot. But I do hope you can skate again someday, one way or another. You deserve it.

*She felt like this was a time for confession. Bonding, maybe ? Girl girling ?*

- It's tarot reading that helps me, weirdly. I always thought it would be music or reading but... I guess I need to believe in something and if it's in arcanes than why not ?

[flash-in-the-crucible]

[Pearl had since stopped listening to Lucie’s words on the travel, having spent enough of her patience just forcing herself to help out this truly insufferable girl, now only replying with single noises or words until they got to the lake. “Mhm” “Right” “Hm” and “Yes” was all that left her mouth up until that point, until the great relief that the water brought an aquatic thing like her. There was something fitting about the fact she found so much peace by the lakeside, the same one she’d spent the last 40 years living and suffering by, now something relaxing to her after she’d drowned in it and found connection with lady Death, one she had never found in her faith in life. Not to mention the relationship she now had with Pink, all beginning at this same wonderful spot. Looking out at the smooth rippling surface of the lake, she refound the patience to deal with Lucie.]

No, there is no ice left, I have had to do without for now …

[Not technically a lie on her part, there certainly was no ice left in heat like this, but she’d found a fine enough workaround in the meantime to get herself back in shape before the real deal came back around… though she certainly wouldn’t give away the location of her personal skating rink to anyone who hadn’t earned her trust, and especially not someone who’d irritated her as much as Lucie did. Nor would she dare reciprocate Lucie’s vulnerability in confessing the comfort she found in tarot reading by sharing her own beliefs, much more “real” in her opinion than Lucie’s silly little cards. Even as a human, Pearl had believed in Death bringing eventual absolute peace to each and every soul to ever exist, and that same core belief had persisted into her own death… she couldn’t fathom believing in tools of divinity that connected you to the future of your current life, tools that insisted that the journey of each soul was not functionally exactly the same, like how each droplet in a river followed indistinct paths on their journeys to the ocean of self realization.

Whatever, she came here to give Lucie somewhere nicer to cry, and to get the both of them something to eat, and she fulfilled that first part fine enough… about time she did the second. Reaching behind her with one hand, she caught the tag of her dress’ zipper, pulling it down to reveal a black two piece swimsuit hidden underneath, one of a few sets she’d taken to wearing in place of underwear for a handful of hunting related reasons. Further, with her dress no longer hiding her body, some of the horrors of her visitor body normally carefully hidden were now revealed for Lucie to behold. Though her wholly visible vein networks, musculature, and organs were certainly an unsettling sight to behold, especially whenever any part of them caught enough light to show off the more miniscule textures and surfaces… what was particularly eye catching were the two glimmering wings descending from her back, sprouting from spots her dress’ straps would have normally covered. Icy blue and ethereally beautiful even folded up as they were, if they weren’t attached to Pearl they could have easily been mistaken for the wings of a fairy… though she did not stretch them out for Lucie to admire. No, all she did now was kick off her shoes, lay her dress down a good distance from the edge of the water, and step one foot into the lukewarm tide.]

I will be back…

[It felt almost intentional, her abandoning Lucie right after the girl confessing how she hated being alone, even if it truly was not.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

*What was happening ? What was she doing all of a sudden ??? Why was she... Oh, she was gorgeous, but Beetle, and... Oh. She was going for a swim. Of course.

If Lucie had been a bit more rotten, her jaw would have fell on the floor.

Her wide opened crimson eyes could not detach from those wings. It was the most beautiful thing she saw... Maybe ever ? Oh, she wanted to touch it so badly. To feel the diaphrane texture under her rotting fingers. To see Pearl twirl under the moonlight just for her eyes to catch all the color variations of the wings. All the way they could play in the light, like the veil tutu of an iceskater.

The charm was short lived, and poor Lucie was soon abandonned by her mentor, lips still slightly apart in shock.*

- ... Oh. Okay...

*There was already no one else to hear her words. But she was the kind to loooove hearing her own voice, wasnt she ?*

- Then I'll just... Wait here. All alone.

*Suddenly, the night wasnt so comfortable anymore, and the lake not so beautiful. Lucie felt watched by ennemy eyes, looking behind her back every few seconds.

She almost wanted to test the water, hide herself in the lake, try to find Pearl again, but something stopped her. She felt scared by the water. Even more than by being alone. How queer. She loved the ocean ! She loved bathing ! She was a real fish at heart !

But she promised to stay here.

And she stayed, knees against her chest, curled into a ball, waiting alone for it to pass. She almost fell asleep, but her apprehension jolted her awake from time to time.

Waiting.

Waiting...

Her eyes closed.*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Pearl was only around in the shallow waters just long enough to hear Lucie’s “Oh, okay”, though she’d made her way to deeper waters before she could hear the last of the girl’s words, not that she cared to listen. As for Lucie, it was truly magical to watch Pearl disappear into the water, that translucent skin and flesh of hers designed perfectly to disappear under the distortion of the water’s surface, leaving only her hair, swimsuit, and venomous black “blood” visible at a glance… though even then, discerning the flowing black of her hair and veins from the gently billowing lake weed was a rather difficult task.

As she finally disappeared from view, entering deeper waters, she allowed herself to let her mask of politeness and humanity drop, now that Lucie wasn’t around to watch… from a row of previously sealed pores lining the undersides of her arms, she let her body unfurl, those barb covered “veins” of hers sliding out from her body to form a net of jellyfish-like stinging tendrils, each far longer than her own height normally was. All it would take was one brush against the nearly invisible network to seal a human’s fate, and she’d hunted in this lake long enough to know there will ALWAYS be someone desperate enough to reach their bottle in for a drink…

…

A little less than 30 minutes had gone by when Pearl returned to the spot she’d left Lucie at, emerging from the water looking no different than she had when she left, except for the water dripping down her body and the corpse she now dragged along the rocky shore with her. Similarly, despite the truly agonized expression the dead man’s face had been frozen in, there was just about no indication of the method Pearl used to slaughter him, aside from a shallow cut on one leg that looked like it could have come from her manicured claws. She dropped the body before Lucie, stepping back to wring the water from her hair.]

I could tell you have not eaten in a while, I brought you something.

[Though she said it in a friendly enough tone, she did not move to join Lucie in eating… sharing food was something you did with those you respected, and Lucie was anything but that. Besides, the girl certainly needed the food more than her.]

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……

[carrying-coins]

<he leans into them, as per their intention, face concealed halfway by the fur of their coats. The sensation of resting, even for a moment, hits him like a wave, dragging him under rapidly, flooding his lungs with a certain lethargic slowness, exhaustion at its finest. His body is hot, sticky with sweat in a way that they are likely terribly aware of. The aroma of vomit, and sweat, and sickness clings to him, as though he were the very horseman of plague, sat by their side in a tired mound, the heat of his body penetrating their coats quite quickly, despite the numerous layers present.>

<he considers what they’d told him. If not a visitor, or FEMA, then who?? He hasn’t suspected FEMA to begin with, but maybe some extraordinarily cruel visitor….? Even then, he hasn’t met any willing, or capable, to go to such an extreme. It’s a very odd thing, and it puts him on edge. Perhaps Amorette was a good thing, if she makes him stay inside…>

<he returns his attention to them, as they continue speaking, though his static-filled head makes it something of a nuisance to do.>

Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.. I jus’-… even if I get somethin’ out of it in the end, I still might fuck her over, an’ I don’t wanna do that, but y’know my mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes an’ then I ssay-… an’ then she’ll be stuck thinkin’ she was the problem all the time, or she’ll hate me, an’ I-.. <he sighs.> I dont wanna be like-.. <like his own parents. He didn’t even really know what a parents was meant to be like, up until he met pink. He’s afraid that he doesn’t have it in him to be any better. He worries that he’ll leave amorette hurt, or abandoned, that he’ll fail to care for her properly, regardless of his kind intentions. He has a way of messing things up, and he would really rather not this series of unfortunate blunders apply to Amorette as well.>

Whatever. I probably will figure things out, I’m jus’ a little worried ‘s all. Feels shitty to bring a kid into all this bullshit, y’know?

<he closes his eyes, conscious worry receding to the back of his head, though the general anxiety remains intact. He crosses his arms over his stomach, the ring they’d just adorned him with glinting dimly beneath the radiance of the moon. He wishes very much that he could sleep now, though he keeps himself as awake as he can, knowing he’ll have to return to take amorette from Nemoy once pink leaves again. He exhales relievedly at their agreement to watch his daughter, so glad that tears sting his eyes at the prospect of not having to keep an eye on her.>

Thank you sso much… ohh, you’re a godsend, mama… er- pink— I meant… nevermind. I’m jus’ tired.

<he peeps open one eye at his slip up, reviewing their face with some worry. He doubts they’ll mind much, though some whisper at the base of his skull argues otherwise, very convincing in its argument. He changes the topic quickly, in the hopes that they won’t notice.>

..Oh. Yeah, me too. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. ‘S some rancid shit, but I guess it makes sense, with everythin’ goin’ on..

<he fails to catch the lie in their tone, taking their words at face value instead.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were in fact horribly aware of how he smelled, with a nose like theirs, however they were even more aware of their own smell, one which had started to become apparent as of today, a little over a week since their last meal…the sour smell of something in active decomposition, of maggot-pockmarked roadkill, death. Visitors rotted far slower than actual corpses, taking hours to look truly dead, and days to start rotting, but they had put off eating long enough for their starvation to start to make itself clear once again.

They had to wonder how he tolerated it, how he tolerated them, how he could forgive them for how impossible they make it to love them… they were a thing, a thing with a monstrous face and decomposing body, a thing which had tried to eat him twice somewhat successfully, a thing that their own mother had not held love for… and yet, they’d tried hard enough that Artie still did. Almost reflexively by now, they moved to gently pet his hair as they spoke.]

Well, we’re not even the same sssssspecies, and the first thing I did when I met you was try to eat you, but there’ssssss no question in my mind right now about if I care about you, or if you care about me…… I can’t imagine words you could say on accident could put more of a divide between you and her than the boundaries we’re trampling this ssssssecond……

[They did their best to hold back on pointing out his language usage as he spilled his worries about parenting, vulgar as it was, they could wait to lecture him about it later. Still, they’d looked briefly irritated following each curse and swear, their face scrunching up with each instance like they were being repeatedly presented with some truly horrendous smell, attentive as they were to his other words.

Particularly, his little slip up.

Their wild pink eye went wide and dilated, like a cat about to pounce on prey or a toy alike, though they did not leap just yet, staring for a moment as they processed what they’d heard, like they had assumed they’d misheard it initially. Mama. Two syllables, easy enough to let slip out of your mouth on accident… but accident on not, it meant the world to them. Of course, they’d known for a while that them and Artie were more than just friends, no regular friendship would go to the lengths that they had for each other, lengths that only family, blood or not, ever would… but to hear confirmation of it still warmed their soft little heart. Their currently single mouth of needlish teeth slowly opened, hesitantly, into a smile, before they snatched him in an unintentionally tight hug, enough to lift him a few inches up, head bent down over his shoulder.]

You called me mama!!!!!!

[Their chest twitched and shook with the excited shuffling of their hidden wings, and from their laughter… well, they were either crying or laughing, Artie couldn’t quite tell, but it was out of pure joy either way.]

[carrying-coins]

<he too, often wonders how they can tolerate a person like him. Horribly keen on getting himself into dangerous situations, which he’s become relatively good at pulling himself out of, however on the off chance that he can’t… well, then it becomes Pink’s problem. In addition, his mouth runs loud and abrasive, hurtful without the slightest intention to hurt. He is generally unbearable to be around, and he really doesn’t understand why people are willing to withstand his presence now out of all times.>

<he enjoys their presence, despite their “shortcomings”, which aren’t really in their control, because they’ve cared for him more attentively than any other person he can recall coming into contact with, aside from perhaps Lasha. They actively seek his presence, which is something not many others are willing to do. At the end of the day, they really are his mama.>

<he only sighs at their counter argument. He could come up with a plethora of things that would contradict their reasoning, but only time would tell how adequately he could raise a child. Playing an endless game of what-ifs will get neither of them anywhere. He flinches at the touch of their palms atop his head, slightly more on-edge than normal. His hair is abysmally coarse presently, tangled with such masterful detail that you’d think he tied the knots himself.>

<their disgust at his word choice slips him by entirely. He’d been doing quite well at monitoring his language for some time around pink, but in the perhaps week or less since he’d seen them, his attention towards his mouth had regressed a great deal. He also doesn’t notice the dilation of their pupils, nor the smile preceding their swift move to bring him to their arms. The pressure they force on his ribs makes him wheeze into the furs over their shoulder, pinned to their chest like a taxidermy butterfly, its wings splayed out to its sides. The jouncing of their wings beneath their skin makes him squeal, a noise akin to a piglet’s shrill whine, tickled in his abdomen.>

Well- jus’ ‘cause I got— you! I meant-

<frantically, words topple out from behind his teeth, an unnecessary and poorly constructed attempt at defending himself. He gets the urge to justify his choice, despite their positive reaction. Finally, he settles on silence, arms relaxed over their shoulders, face nudged into the side of their neck at such an angle that his mouth and nose are each at least partially covered by their coats, to spare him the stench clinging to their skin. He takes comfort in the freezing temperature of their skin, to cool his hot face.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Hearing him frantically try, and fail, to defend his slip up in words, they couldn’t help but laugh through their already joyous tears, their mind overflowing with parental love for him, species divide be damned. Unable to keep themselves together for too long, their rib wings folded open partly to excitedly flex more freely, now only restrained by the fabric of their coats.

Even if he never once said they were his mama, never verbally expressed his love for them, never thought to gift them back for the ring they gave him, never would debate suicide at the thought of their relationship being irreversibly damaged, they can’t imagine they wouldn’t love him the exact same way regardless. They can’t imagine a work where they didn’t love him, impulses and rude language and all, with the unconditional affection of a mother. As hard as it was for either of them to fathom it, they were irreparably bonded together, two messed up individuals too comfortable around each other for their own good, never to abandon each other under any circumstance.]

Calm down kid, it’s okay, I’m not mad!!!!!!

[They were overjoyed, excited, overwhelmed, anything but mad, really. Im fact, his particular slip up got them thinking as well… “mama”… they supposed there wasn’t a gender neutral version of the term, maybe it was an easier default than “papa”, but… still, did this mean Artie saw them as a woman? Did this mean they WERE a woman? They weren’t sure how they felt about that, how correct that exactly was to admit. Women were beautiful, naturally ethereal, beings as innately and effortlessly beautiful as the cosmos, they were something so viscerally disgusting that shooting them on sight wasn’t a wholly unreasonable reaction… and besides that, it felt wrong, in a way they couldn’t fully articulate. No, they couldn’t be a woman.]

I love you, kid, I don’t think I ssssssay it enough……

[They spoke with a genuine affection to their echoing voice, thick and sweet as honey, and with a long breath out, they finally loosened their hold on him to something more comfortable for them both, arms falling to lay closer to the bottom of Artie’s ribcage. Wrong as it felt to perhaps be a woman, they could ignore the connotation if it meant Artie would call them his parent once again.]

[carrying-coins]

<he takes a breath at their verbal confirmation that they are, not in fact, upset with him. Sometimes body language and actual feelings don’t quite match up, he’s learned. Like Pearl, for instance. She is outwardly kind to him, and her perpetually fixed smile would imply that she is not upset with him, but her hatred is tangible. He could taste it in the air from a mile back, even with his general ineptitude in deciphering body language. Their wings graze his soft underbelly as they fold out, scraped very gently over the front of his dirty grey shirt, and he squirms some, something adjacent to a breathy giggle following his action.>

<the soft noise issuing out from his throat wavers and dies. Ilya’s words echo pink’s and he shifts uncomfortably in their lap. Artie, you make it very hard to love you. Two insults in one, truly. “You’re difficult”- preceding “to love”. Not only is he a burden, but also one who is undeserving of affection, let alone love. Are “undeserving of love” and “incapable of giving and receiving love” synonymous? He doesn’t know. Mostly he knows that things go poorly when he returns the words. He’d come to the conclusion that were he not to say “I love you” back to pink, when they came to visit after the accident, they would have fled into the night. He would’ve saved Ilya a bullet and their voice, pink getting scorched, and himself swimming through mountains of gore to separate the two halves of his life, so they didn’t kill one another. He’s terribly aware how irrational his thought process is, but with his track record it’s not entirely unreasonable either. He picks apart the blood-and-surely-other-bodily-fluids-crusted bits of fur on their coats, fingers working tirelessly behind their head. He could pretend he didn’t hear them? No, his ear is quite literally pressed against their throat, and the other is only his head’s width away from the origin of their voice. The silence spans on, like a walk of shame, straining in the darkness. Surely they could smell the insecurity seeping out from beneath his ribs, like some truly rancid secretion? Anxiousness and shame potent enough to make them gag. A change of topic might be good.>

…..you’re not really my “mama” though, are you?- er- I mean-… Are you even a woman?

<it comes out a little more accusatory than he intends it. “Are you even a woman?” Are you even anything? He doesn’t seem to catch it. If he did, he would have apologized. Instead, he moves his hands to a different section of their back, detangling these tufts of fur as he thinks. Do visitors actually have gender? Is pink a woman? Or are they a unique case? Unique to exclusively humans though, with their typically definable sexes, or unique to their species, too? From what he’s seen visitors are typically easy to separate into man or woman. And surely if they were only once-dead people, then they are man or woman, just like humans? But they also don’t seem to follow the same biological rules as humans. Can visitors reproduce? Hadn’t Lasha gotten pregnant with a visitor’s baby? So do they need a human host in order to have offspring? Pink is very difficult for him to stereotype. An octagonal peg, when as far as he was aware, there were only square and round ones. They’re very well-covered, which makes it difficult for him to determine their gender by those means, but their voice is sort of feminine… just carried with the cadence and vocabulary of a man? What would he even call them, if they’re not a man or woman?>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They couldn’t quite smell his feelings per se, but they could pick up with ease the anxious sweat beading on his neck and brow, and they could feel the sudden tension in his body, the rise of his shoulders and his stiffening spine. They weren’t always the best at reading people, but it wasn’t hard for them to figure out their words put him on edge… why? Did he mishear them, somehow, or did they say it wrong? They sure hoped not, a brow raising as they tried to figure out the mental hurdles of his mind blindfolded… they never landed on the conclusion that Artie believed that last night’s events would never have happened if he had just bit his tongue. They knew, of course, that they would not have left if he never said he loved them back, because they’d meant what they said, reciprocated or not. Even now, their sticking by his side despite his hesitation proved that no words of his, spoken or otherwise, might have changed things between them, especially not enough to save them from getting shot…

Though, they did decide to let it go, as Artie changed the topic, their expression reverting to their more regular smile]

I don’t…… I don’t know, really……

[Honestly, Artie knew about as much as they did regarding their own gender, hard as they’d tried to remember what they may have been as a human, and hard as they tried to find out otherwise. Even under their extensive coverings, hard as they looked… all indications of what they should have been have been distorted beyond identification. Their face, even held together to be as close as they can manage to human-looking, is not identifiably male or female in construction. Their voice too is, at best, slightly feminine in sound, though the echoing of their choir of a voice made any comparison to existing gender roles difficult. Similar is their chest, nippleless and with one side at least a full cup size larger than the other. That isn’t to even address the space between their legs, occupied by a massive perpetually weeping scar no prettier than their face, jagged and long enough to reach the lower edge of their navel. Like their face too, they knew well it widened further when they lost focus on keeping themselves from splitting, eventually joining together with their chest scar to form one long gorey line down their entire front half. Likely it was that whatever killed them had created it in their final moments, since wounds after death usually heal, but… why? Why not rip them in two after killing them first?]

I don’t care that much what you call me, though…… if you sssssay I’m not a woman, guess I’m not…… it’sssss not like I remember my name either……

[Not a woman… though it didn’t narrow things down, it felt more correct to say a thing like them could never be a woman… even if they felt as though they could never exactly be a man, either, hope as they might to be one for the purpose of marrying Pearl. They couldn’t exactly stay together if Pink was a woman, after all, what lunacy would that be! Besides, suits cover up more and are a bit harder to accidentally shred than dresses, and they would like to find something a bit nicer to wear than their coats someday… they didn’t look much like someone knowledgeable about gold in this wild animal aesthetic they have going on.]

[carrying-coins]

<he relaxes again, as they allow him to nose the topic of conversation into more comfortable territory. Well… maybe more comfortable. An odd sort of feeling nestles itself between his ribs, up his spine, and into his hands. But what? Something empty and jittery and hot. He frowns at their response.>

What d’you mean you don’t know?? How could you not know?

<how could they not know? What does this imply? He assumes their response means any typical indicator of what sex they may be, has either vanished with the appearance of their visitorhood, or is entirely unrecognizable, too difficult to label as one or the other.>

Does… like, Pearl, or any other visitor have-? Are they men or women?

<his frown deepens at their next response. His hands had already worked through all of the tangled fur he could reach, without bending himself further down their back. His work is finished then, he supposes. He allows his palms to lie flush against the backside of their ribs, warming up quickly with the insulation their coats provide.>

Well… ‘s in the middle between mama, an’ papa then? Pink, you’re not very helpful, I’m afraid.

<he laughs quietly into their coats, though it quickly dwindles and dies in the night, allowing a temporary silence to pool between them, until pink next speaks. The small, whispery feeling churns, gliding its hot, spiky body along his innards, and he frowns. What could it be? Something he isn’t very familiar with, certainly. He feels some small irritation at them, for being so neutral, such an entirely blank slate that they simply get to choose things like their name or gender. He quickly shoves any disdain he holds towards them, or their situation out of his head, more irritated with himself now. Whatever means brought them to this point were surely gruesome ones. He probably wouldn’t enjoy their visitoring process very much, even if it meant the ultimate prize was more freedom to define yourself the way you liked. God, was it jealousy, slipping its way down his spine with that sneaky, giggling voice? What is his problem? He almost feels the need to apologize, despite not having done anything outwardly wrong.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

CW: SA implication

[As they calmed down from the excitement of him calling them mama, they slowly folded their wings back into something more proper for human anatomy, and something that better protected their largely useless but incredibly delicate internal organs, in the process giving Artie an easier shape to wrap his arms around.]

Kid, you know how my face and my chest look, you think the resssssst of me’s any prettier??????

[Not to mention their often filthy and horribly overgrown claws, the wrinkled mold-grey surface of their skin, sometimes putrefied to the point of wholly dissolving into rotten sludge, their usually abhorrent smell, and their tendency to be found bent over meat that a vulture wouldn’t touch, they were anything but a pretty thing. Really it would be remarkable if there was anything physically normal someone could find on them. A horrible decaying shell to held their soft little heart.]

Death’ssssss name kid, why’s that matter to you??????

[They spoke with amusement in their echoing voice, shooting him a toothy smile, knowing well he didn’t mean for it to come across as the perverted question it came out as, but more than happy to take the opportunity to tease him about it anyway. Then, as quickly as they’d jokingly scolded him for asking, they switched their tone, an unspoken “just kidding” preceding their answer… avoiding referencing the exact anatomy of their fiance, of course.]

I don’t know about what other visitors have between their legssssss, I haven’t checked too many myself, but I haven’t met another one who wasn’t sure about their gender……

[Despite their joke, they spoke honestly, knowledgable as they are about their kind’s biology, no one they knew had exactly tried to reestablish gender roles in their species, nor had any of them seriously tried to reproduce in times like these. They strained trying to recall another visitor like them, one who similarly had no idea and one whose body was distorted as horribly as theirs… they had a feeling they must have met one even more hideous than themselves, some truly hideous thing with a trio of faces not unlike their own infinity, but… the memory is hazy, almost like recalling a dream. It certainly felt like one.

They weren’t quite sure if they were still human when they had come across this visitor, assuming they were any more than a figment of their own imagination… but their recollection was as hazy as all of their remaining memories of humanity were, so surely they were still alive then, right? Either way, they remember the feeling of cold, clotted blood on their body, on what must have been naked skin… why were they naked again? Maybe they just forgot what they were wearing, or maybe this was just some nonsense from their imagination . But… they remembered how their face ached, the taste of their own brain collapsing into their mouth, how stiff their body felt against the sharp black grass. They remember they felt good, like everything was okay in the world… surely a dream, then, it was the apocalypse after all. They shook their head as they refocused on Artie’s words, the memory fading back into the fog of their mind.]

I really don’t know kid, you can just call me one of them if you want, like I ssssssaid, it doesn’t bother me what you call me……

[They smile, failing to notice his jealousy at their nonchalance about their own gender and its expression, given they didn’t exactly envy their own situation, being free in a way they never sook to be, at the cost of becoming monstrous beyond any recognition through an agonizing and nonconsensual process. Why in the world would Artie be jealous of them?]

[carrying-coins]

No. Maybe? I don’t know! ‘S why I asked.

<he shifts against them, as they recoil their outstretched wings, resettled into the cavity of their chest. He huffs into the plume of fur bordering their neck, caught somewhere between indignant and embarrassed. Was it a stupid question? He feels scolded in a way that makes him feel it was a stupid question. He is also far too prideful to let himself get embarrassed that easily.>

I- No, no- I didn’t mean- ‘s jus’ like— I-I-…

<his nose drags along the space over their collarbone, the steady decline of muscle beneath their furs, until his nose rests at the ledge of their shoulder. Heat crawls up his neck settling into the pale flesh of his face, spanning over his bones, shocking his nerves, burning him from the inside out. Well now he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t catch the play in their tone, only the subtle cry of protest in their words at his curiosity.>

Sorry. <the lonesome word emerges with no more volume than the footstep of a mouse, awkward but entirely sincere. He is very cocky, but not quite enough so that he finds it below himself to apologize- mostly because he fears it would hurt their feelings if he didn’t. Though, the shame for his internal outburst of jealousy, and his unintentionally perverted question is certainly a strong motivator as well.>

<in the very least, he’s glad they answered his question. The information wasn’t important to him in any means past satiating curiosity, but he found it interesting nonetheless. Pink is a relatively unique case then, it seems. He considers vaguely what this meant for their human life. Were they always neutral in this way, even as a human, or did it come with their visitoring? He wonders if they had any children of their own, or if the potential oddity in their gender as a human made it impossible. Guilt takes him by surprise, at the notion. Is he taking the place of some more deserving person, or people? Ones who are wondering where their parent had gone, ones worrying themselves sick? Children of their own, who had been raised by pink, only for them to vanish? If the hypothetical children discovered an imposter in their place, how would they feel? They’d hate him probably. For good reason, too. He hardly deserves a place at their side, he hadn’t done anything to earn their care, other than displaying his obnoxiously persistent desire for connection. He retracts his arms from down their back, sliding delicately out of their lap with a frown. Do they only like him for fulfilling the subconscious space of some missing child? A puzzle piece that doesn’t fit quite right, but is just good enough to slot into the hole where their real child should be? He’s not their kid. He only sort of thinks he is, but that doesn’t count for much in the face of their real offspring. He’s probably only a placeholder. He turns the ring they gave him around his index, gut churning, pinkened in his bout of upset.>

What? <he forgot to pay attention. His mind catches up to what they’d been saying, letting silence settle between the two for only a moment, before he responds.>

Oh. Okay. Well…. How’s.. I don’t know. ‘S real hard t’ think of somethin’ that doesn’t sound stupid. Ah…. My name’s stupid anyways, so I guess we can be matching, right? <he giggles lightly, watching his hands, rather than holding their gaze. He figures that he doesn’t really have to keep eye contact to be polite anymore, right? Now they’re too deeply attached to leave him for his minor flaws. They can’t leave, like they could before, so it’s okay to drop his facade!>

…I don’t know. D’you like baba? I think ‘s not as bad as like… yaya or somethin’. Might be the best you’re gonna get.

<his guilt, jealousy and shame slip down the sides of his mind, no longer bothering him as persistently as they previously were. Now, they remain as a worried whisper at the base of his brain, slipping quietly between creases, unimportant now that he’s distracted.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[At his reaction to their teasing, they burst out with an echoing choir of laughter lasting a fair few seconds, one mouth becoming three as their focus on keeping their face together momentarily slipped]

Calm down kiddo, I’m just giving you a hard time!!!!!!

[Though they had been laughing seconds ago, their happiness quickly died down into silence at his almost pitiful little apology, all the joy of the moment killed for them seeing him genuinely ashamed from what they had intended as nothing more than kidding around. They did not stop him as he withdrew from their physical affection, only huffing with regret at their words.

Death’s name, they needed to figure out where they kept going wrong whenever they tried to play with Artie… he might not have started crying like he did last time, but it still certainly didn’t land well. It was times like these that they wished they remembered more about being human, as they could only imagine their issues with communication stemmed from visitors being far more solitary than humans… or perhaps they were just innately as bad with words as they were with pronouncing them. The thought led them back to wonders about their human life as well. Not every true visitor had sharp and inhuman looking teeth, but of the ones they knew that did, none of them had quite the same issues Pink did with forming words. Pearl had teeth too long for her mouth, just like them, and yet she hardly had any issues with speech! So, perhaps their struggles dated back to their human life? They supposed that made enough sense.

As for the family their human self might have had, they could be somewhat certain that they had never had children of their own. While their memory was unreliable, enough that the name of their mother was fuzzy in their memory, and enough that they could not recall their own gender, they couldn’t imagine they would forget something as important to them as a child!! Further, they were absolutely certain they never had a spouse, since there was no trace of anything with enough wear to be a wedding ring in the collection of rings they had awoken as a visitor with… and if they had no spouse, they couldn’t have had biological children!!

No, they were sure that Artie is their single child, and they imagine he always will be… up until the day he brings them a daughter in law, of course. They picture the day in their mind briefly, a smile on their face.]

Eh, it doesn’t really get much dumber than “Pink”…… or “big bird”……

[They laughed shortly as they recalled just about every terrible name they’d been given by various humans, almost all of them being terrible, much moreso than something as normal as “Arthur”. “Pink” was probably the kindest one they had been given, unsurprisingly bestowed upon them by the Therapist, though “Crowface” or “Birdface” was the oldest and most common one they heard, tied with a variety of curses. The only one that really bugged them, however, was being called “big bird” by anyone who wasn’t a little kid… it felt diminishing in ways that curses never really did.

Their favourite though, as of this moment, had to be “Baba”.]

It’s perfect, kid……

[They spoke with nothing but honest, genuine parental love in their voice, their single slitted eye dilated with that same overwhelming emotion. They never imagined when they met Artie that they’d ever even consider him a friend, let alone that he would be one of their 3 favourite people, but they regret nothing about the way things played out. They wouldn’t have it any other way.]

[carrying-coins]

Oh. Okay.

<he shifts, leaned back up against their side with a sigh.>

Sometimes I can’t tell if people’re seriously pissed at me or jus’ playin’. Better t’ be sorry than t’ risk being lonely.. y’know?

<he doesn’t care to offer an apology much to somebody he isn’t particularly close to. Why waste energy and pride on somebody who you probably wouldn’t see again? He only gets worked up once it’s somebody he cares for. Then it becomes a precarious situation.. risk apologizing for something they didn’t actually mind, and ruin the mood, or risk them leaving in the case that they were serious? He typically walks a fine line between oversensitive and an entirely apathetic asshole. To take it too seriously is a sign of fragility, sensitivity, insecurity, but to leave it without apology where apology is due means you’re an emotionless monster, too proud of yourself to stoop so low as to say sorry. He’s somehow perpetually wrong in his judgment of these situations. Whatever. They don’t seem particularly upset with him, so he doesn’t mind it past pushing it into his ever-growing store of failed social interactions.>

<he nestles his bony body into the crook of their bonier body, sharp ground against sharp, bones on bones, as they begin speaking again.>

Ha- big bird? Wow, the people here are real creative, huh?

<the phrase sticks in his mind. Truly, they are just a big bird, vulture-ish in their habits, appearance and posture. And he’s no better than the egg nestled beneath their warm wing.>

<he hadn’t imagined a single outcome to his initial approach of them. Truly, not a thing had crossed his mind- no particular goal to complete, only a vague curiosity propelling him forward. He’s been rewarded beyond what he was due, and he revels in it, receiving some infinitely distant attention that he hadn’t hardly been capable of conceptualizing before. And now he’s got it at the tips of his fingers, held firmly in both palms. Everything he’d been starved of growing up, and now he’s got a feast. It’s an overwhelming thing to consider.> I know.. everythin’ I do is perfect, really. <he grins, nearly smugly, as though that hadn’t watched him fall down in various senses about a hundred times by this point.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Just as quickly as they had accepted Artie distancing himself from their affection, they accepted his return, resting their chin atop his head once again.]

I get it, I’m not any better……

[Though, they at least had the excuse of being a visitor to explain their lacking social skills, as opposed to Artie’s less innate inability with words. For that same reason, they couldn’t quite understand why Artie would be so worried about being alone, when a solitary animal like themselves thrived in isolation.

While they would never dare to say it out loud, there were things they missed about the time of their visitorhood before they were so… “domesticated”. Before they felt the need to wear a mask and a hundred coats to cover the whole of their monstrous body, before they felt guilty enough about eating to go hungry over it, before they cared about anyone besides Pearl. It isn’t bad, not being such a wild thing anymore, but it’s hungry. So, so hungry. ]

The kid with the lollipopssssss came up with that one…… he’s the only one allowed to call me it……

[A few others had tried to borrow the name since the kid had come up with it, none of them individuals Pink had particularly liked to begin with, but even out of the mouths of people they didn’t mind, the words felt so incredibly degrading. The kid was really the only one with enough innocence in his heart to say it without it feeling so reductive.]

Sure kid, whatever you ssssssay……

[They briefly pulled away from Artie to straighten up their back, stretching out their arms in front of them as they spoke, an odd sight with their truly incredible claws. Death’s name, how long had they been talking? Surely quite a while, if they felt this stiff!! They’d been planning to eat something tonight… well, they supposed they might still have time if they left now.]

Alright…… well, I’d love to sssssstick around and keep talking, but time’s ticking, and I can’t remember the last time I ate…… I’ll be back tomorrow??????

[They asked, not daring to forget about their offer to help him with Amorette, the kid needed the break after all!! They pushed themselves back up to their feet with assistance from the wall, a long groan accompanying the action, before they glanced back in through the window at her once again. Oh, what a precious thing she was.]

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……

[carrying-coins]

<he leans into them, as per their intention, face concealed halfway by the fur of their coats. The sensation of resting, even for a moment, hits him like a wave, dragging him under rapidly, flooding his lungs with a certain lethargic slowness, exhaustion at its finest. His body is hot, sticky with sweat in a way that they are likely terribly aware of. The aroma of vomit, and sweat, and sickness clings to him, as though he were the very horseman of plague, sat by their side in a tired mound, the heat of his body penetrating their coats quite quickly, despite the numerous layers present.>

<he considers what they’d told him. If not a visitor, or FEMA, then who?? He hasn’t suspected FEMA to begin with, but maybe some extraordinarily cruel visitor….? Even then, he hasn’t met any willing, or capable, to go to such an extreme. It’s a very odd thing, and it puts him on edge. Perhaps Amorette was a good thing, if she makes him stay inside…>

<he returns his attention to them, as they continue speaking, though his static-filled head makes it something of a nuisance to do.>

Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.. I jus’-… even if I get somethin’ out of it in the end, I still might fuck her over, an’ I don’t wanna do that, but y’know my mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes an’ then I ssay-… an’ then she’ll be stuck thinkin’ she was the problem all the time, or she’ll hate me, an’ I-.. <he sighs.> I dont wanna be like-.. <like his own parents. He didn’t even really know what a parents was meant to be like, up until he met pink. He’s afraid that he doesn’t have it in him to be any better. He worries that he’ll leave amorette hurt, or abandoned, that he’ll fail to care for her properly, regardless of his kind intentions. He has a way of messing things up, and he would really rather not this series of unfortunate blunders apply to Amorette as well.>

Whatever. I probably will figure things out, I’m jus’ a little worried ‘s all. Feels shitty to bring a kid into all this bullshit, y’know?

<he closes his eyes, conscious worry receding to the back of his head, though the general anxiety remains intact. He crosses his arms over his stomach, the ring they’d just adorned him with glinting dimly beneath the radiance of the moon. He wishes very much that he could sleep now, though he keeps himself as awake as he can, knowing he’ll have to return to take amorette from Nemoy once pink leaves again. He exhales relievedly at their agreement to watch his daughter, so glad that tears sting his eyes at the prospect of not having to keep an eye on her.>

Thank you sso much… ohh, you’re a godsend, mama… er- pink— I meant… nevermind. I’m jus’ tired.

<he peeps open one eye at his slip up, reviewing their face with some worry. He doubts they’ll mind much, though some whisper at the base of his skull argues otherwise, very convincing in its argument. He changes the topic quickly, in the hopes that they won’t notice.>

..Oh. Yeah, me too. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. ‘S some rancid shit, but I guess it makes sense, with everythin’ goin’ on..

<he fails to catch the lie in their tone, taking their words at face value instead.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were in fact horribly aware of how he smelled, with a nose like theirs, however they were even more aware of their own smell, one which had started to become apparent as of today, a little over a week since their last meal…the sour smell of something in active decomposition, of maggot-pockmarked roadkill, death. Visitors rotted far slower than actual corpses, taking hours to look truly dead, and days to start rotting, but they had put off eating long enough for their starvation to start to make itself clear once again.

They had to wonder how he tolerated it, how he tolerated them, how he could forgive them for how impossible they make it to love them… they were a thing, a thing with a monstrous face and decomposing body, a thing which had tried to eat him twice somewhat successfully, a thing that their own mother had not held love for… and yet, they’d tried hard enough that Artie still did. Almost reflexively by now, they moved to gently pet his hair as they spoke.]

Well, we’re not even the same sssssspecies, and the first thing I did when I met you was try to eat you, but there’ssssss no question in my mind right now about if I care about you, or if you care about me…… I can’t imagine words you could say on accident could put more of a divide between you and her than the boundaries we’re trampling this ssssssecond……

[They did their best to hold back on pointing out his language usage as he spilled his worries about parenting, vulgar as it was, they could wait to lecture him about it later. Still, they’d looked briefly irritated following each curse and swear, their face scrunching up with each instance like they were being repeatedly presented with some truly horrendous smell, attentive as they were to his other words.

Particularly, his little slip up.

Their wild pink eye went wide and dilated, like a cat about to pounce on prey or a toy alike, though they did not leap just yet, staring for a moment as they processed what they’d heard, like they had assumed they’d misheard it initially. Mama. Two syllables, easy enough to let slip out of your mouth on accident… but accident on not, it meant the world to them. Of course, they’d known for a while that them and Artie were more than just friends, no regular friendship would go to the lengths that they had for each other, lengths that only family, blood or not, ever would… but to hear confirmation of it still warmed their soft little heart. Their currently single mouth of needlish teeth slowly opened, hesitantly, into a smile, before they snatched him in an unintentionally tight hug, enough to lift him a few inches up, head bent down over his shoulder.]

You called me mama!!!!!!

[Their chest twitched and shook with the excited shuffling of their hidden wings, and from their laughter… well, they were either crying or laughing, Artie couldn’t quite tell, but it was out of pure joy either way.]

[carrying-coins]

<he too, often wonders how they can tolerate a person like him. Horribly keen on getting himself into dangerous situations, which he’s become relatively good at pulling himself out of, however on the off chance that he can’t… well, then it becomes Pink’s problem. In addition, his mouth runs loud and abrasive, hurtful without the slightest intention to hurt. He is generally unbearable to be around, and he really doesn’t understand why people are willing to withstand his presence now out of all times.>

<he enjoys their presence, despite their “shortcomings”, which aren’t really in their control, because they’ve cared for him more attentively than any other person he can recall coming into contact with, aside from perhaps Lasha. They actively seek his presence, which is something not many others are willing to do. At the end of the day, they really are his mama.>

<he only sighs at their counter argument. He could come up with a plethora of things that would contradict their reasoning, but only time would tell how adequately he could raise a child. Playing an endless game of what-ifs will get neither of them anywhere. He flinches at the touch of their palms atop his head, slightly more on-edge than normal. His hair is abysmally coarse presently, tangled with such masterful detail that you’d think he tied the knots himself.>

<their disgust at his word choice slips him by entirely. He’d been doing quite well at monitoring his language for some time around pink, but in the perhaps week or less since he’d seen them, his attention towards his mouth had regressed a great deal. He also doesn’t notice the dilation of their pupils, nor the smile preceding their swift move to bring him to their arms. The pressure they force on his ribs makes him wheeze into the furs over their shoulder, pinned to their chest like a taxidermy butterfly, its wings splayed out to its sides. The jouncing of their wings beneath their skin makes him squeal, a noise akin to a piglet’s shrill whine, tickled in his abdomen.>

Well- jus’ ‘cause I got— you! I meant-

<frantically, words topple out from behind his teeth, an unnecessary and poorly constructed attempt at defending himself. He gets the urge to justify his choice, despite their positive reaction. Finally, he settles on silence, arms relaxed over their shoulders, face nudged into the side of their neck at such an angle that his mouth and nose are each at least partially covered by their coats, to spare him the stench clinging to their skin. He takes comfort in the freezing temperature of their skin, to cool his hot face.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Hearing him frantically try, and fail, to defend his slip up in words, they couldn’t help but laugh through their already joyous tears, their mind overflowing with parental love for him, species divide be damned. Unable to keep themselves together for too long, their rib wings folded open partly to excitedly flex more freely, now only restrained by the fabric of their coats.

Even if he never once said they were his mama, never verbally expressed his love for them, never thought to gift them back for the ring they gave him, never would debate suicide at the thought of their relationship being irreversibly damaged, they can’t imagine they wouldn’t love him the exact same way regardless. They can’t imagine a work where they didn’t love him, impulses and rude language and all, with the unconditional affection of a mother. As hard as it was for either of them to fathom it, they were irreparably bonded together, two messed up individuals too comfortable around each other for their own good, never to abandon each other under any circumstance.]

Calm down kid, it’s okay, I’m not mad!!!!!!

[They were overjoyed, excited, overwhelmed, anything but mad, really. Im fact, his particular slip up got them thinking as well… “mama”… they supposed there wasn’t a gender neutral version of the term, maybe it was an easier default than “papa”, but… still, did this mean Artie saw them as a woman? Did this mean they WERE a woman? They weren’t sure how they felt about that, how correct that exactly was to admit. Women were beautiful, naturally ethereal, beings as innately and effortlessly beautiful as the cosmos, they were something so viscerally disgusting that shooting them on sight wasn’t a wholly unreasonable reaction… and besides that, it felt wrong, in a way they couldn’t fully articulate. No, they couldn’t be a woman.]

I love you, kid, I don’t think I ssssssay it enough……

[They spoke with a genuine affection to their echoing voice, thick and sweet as honey, and with a long breath out, they finally loosened their hold on him to something more comfortable for them both, arms falling to lay closer to the bottom of Artie’s ribcage. Wrong as it felt to perhaps be a woman, they could ignore the connotation if it meant Artie would call them his parent once again.]

[carrying-coins]

<he takes a breath at their verbal confirmation that they are, not in fact, upset with him. Sometimes body language and actual feelings don’t quite match up, he’s learned. Like Pearl, for instance. She is outwardly kind to him, and her perpetually fixed smile would imply that she is not upset with him, but her hatred is tangible. He could taste it in the air from a mile back, even with his general ineptitude in deciphering body language. Their wings graze his soft underbelly as they fold out, scraped very gently over the front of his dirty grey shirt, and he squirms some, something adjacent to a breathy giggle following his action.>

<the soft noise issuing out from his throat wavers and dies. Ilya’s words echo pink’s and he shifts uncomfortably in their lap. Artie, you make it very hard to love you. Two insults in one, truly. “You’re difficult”- preceding “to love”. Not only is he a burden, but also one who is undeserving of affection, let alone love. Are “undeserving of love” and “incapable of giving and receiving love” synonymous? He doesn’t know. Mostly he knows that things go poorly when he returns the words. He’d come to the conclusion that were he not to say “I love you” back to pink, when they came to visit after the accident, they would have fled into the night. He would’ve saved Ilya a bullet and their voice, pink getting scorched, and himself swimming through mountains of gore to separate the two halves of his life, so they didn’t kill one another. He’s terribly aware how irrational his thought process is, but with his track record it’s not entirely unreasonable either. He picks apart the blood-and-surely-other-bodily-fluids-crusted bits of fur on their coats, fingers working tirelessly behind their head. He could pretend he didn’t hear them? No, his ear is quite literally pressed against their throat, and the other is only his head’s width away from the origin of their voice. The silence spans on, like a walk of shame, straining in the darkness. Surely they could smell the insecurity seeping out from beneath his ribs, like some truly rancid secretion? Anxiousness and shame potent enough to make them gag. A change of topic might be good.>

…..you’re not really my “mama” though, are you?- er- I mean-… Are you even a woman?

<it comes out a little more accusatory than he intends it. “Are you even a woman?” Are you even anything? He doesn’t seem to catch it. If he did, he would have apologized. Instead, he moves his hands to a different section of their back, detangling these tufts of fur as he thinks. Do visitors actually have gender? Is pink a woman? Or are they a unique case? Unique to exclusively humans though, with their typically definable sexes, or unique to their species, too? From what he’s seen visitors are typically easy to separate into man or woman. And surely if they were only once-dead people, then they are man or woman, just like humans? But they also don’t seem to follow the same biological rules as humans. Can visitors reproduce? Hadn’t Lasha gotten pregnant with a visitor’s baby? So do they need a human host in order to have offspring? Pink is very difficult for him to stereotype. An octagonal peg, when as far as he was aware, there were only square and round ones. They’re very well-covered, which makes it difficult for him to determine their gender by those means, but their voice is sort of feminine… just carried with the cadence and vocabulary of a man? What would he even call them, if they’re not a man or woman?>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They couldn’t quite smell his feelings per se, but they could pick up with ease the anxious sweat beading on his neck and brow, and they could feel the sudden tension in his body, the rise of his shoulders and his stiffening spine. They weren’t always the best at reading people, but it wasn’t hard for them to figure out their words put him on edge… why? Did he mishear them, somehow, or did they say it wrong? They sure hoped not, a brow raising as they tried to figure out the mental hurdles of his mind blindfolded… they never landed on the conclusion that Artie believed that last night’s events would never have happened if he had just bit his tongue. They knew, of course, that they would not have left if he never said he loved them back, because they’d meant what they said, reciprocated or not. Even now, their sticking by his side despite his hesitation proved that no words of his, spoken or otherwise, might have changed things between them, especially not enough to save them from getting shot…

Though, they did decide to let it go, as Artie changed the topic, their expression reverting to their more regular smile]

I don’t…… I don’t know, really……

[Honestly, Artie knew about as much as they did regarding their own gender, hard as they’d tried to remember what they may have been as a human, and hard as they tried to find out otherwise. Even under their extensive coverings, hard as they looked… all indications of what they should have been have been distorted beyond identification. Their face, even held together to be as close as they can manage to human-looking, is not identifiably male or female in construction. Their voice too is, at best, slightly feminine in sound, though the echoing of their choir of a voice made any comparison to existing gender roles difficult. Similar is their chest, nippleless and with one side at least a full cup size larger than the other. That isn’t to even address the space between their legs, occupied by a massive perpetually weeping scar no prettier than their face, jagged and long enough to reach the lower edge of their navel. Like their face too, they knew well it widened further when they lost focus on keeping themselves from splitting, eventually joining together with their chest scar to form one long gorey line down their entire front half. Likely it was that whatever killed them had created it in their final moments, since wounds after death usually heal, but… why? Why not rip them in two after killing them first?]

I don’t care that much what you call me, though…… if you sssssay I’m not a woman, guess I’m not…… it’sssss not like I remember my name either……

[Not a woman… though it didn’t narrow things down, it felt more correct to say a thing like them could never be a woman… even if they felt as though they could never exactly be a man, either, hope as they might to be one for the purpose of marrying Pearl. They couldn’t exactly stay together if Pink was a woman, after all, what lunacy would that be! Besides, suits cover up more and are a bit harder to accidentally shred than dresses, and they would like to find something a bit nicer to wear than their coats someday… they didn’t look much like someone knowledgeable about gold in this wild animal aesthetic they have going on.]

[carrying-coins]

<he relaxes again, as they allow him to nose the topic of conversation into more comfortable territory. Well… maybe more comfortable. An odd sort of feeling nestles itself between his ribs, up his spine, and into his hands. But what? Something empty and jittery and hot. He frowns at their response.>

What d’you mean you don’t know?? How could you not know?

<how could they not know? What does this imply? He assumes their response means any typical indicator of what sex they may be, has either vanished with the appearance of their visitorhood, or is entirely unrecognizable, too difficult to label as one or the other.>

Does… like, Pearl, or any other visitor have-? Are they men or women?

<his frown deepens at their next response. His hands had already worked through all of the tangled fur he could reach, without bending himself further down their back. His work is finished then, he supposes. He allows his palms to lie flush against the backside of their ribs, warming up quickly with the insulation their coats provide.>

Well… ‘s in the middle between mama, an’ papa then? Pink, you’re not very helpful, I’m afraid.

<he laughs quietly into their coats, though it quickly dwindles and dies in the night, allowing a temporary silence to pool between them, until pink next speaks. The small, whispery feeling churns, gliding its hot, spiky body along his innards, and he frowns. What could it be? Something he isn’t very familiar with, certainly. He feels some small irritation at them, for being so neutral, such an entirely blank slate that they simply get to choose things like their name or gender. He quickly shoves any disdain he holds towards them, or their situation out of his head, more irritated with himself now. Whatever means brought them to this point were surely gruesome ones. He probably wouldn’t enjoy their visitoring process very much, even if it meant the ultimate prize was more freedom to define yourself the way you liked. God, was it jealousy, slipping its way down his spine with that sneaky, giggling voice? What is his problem? He almost feels the need to apologize, despite not having done anything outwardly wrong.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

CW: SA implication

[As they calmed down from the excitement of him calling them mama, they slowly folded their wings back into something more proper for human anatomy, and something that better protected their largely useless but incredibly delicate internal organs, in the process giving Artie an easier shape to wrap his arms around.]

Kid, you know how my face and my chest look, you think the resssssst of me’s any prettier??????

[Not to mention their often filthy and horribly overgrown claws, the wrinkled mold-grey surface of their skin, sometimes putrefied to the point of wholly dissolving into rotten sludge, their usually abhorrent smell, and their tendency to be found bent over meat that a vulture wouldn’t touch, they were anything but a pretty thing. Really it would be remarkable if there was anything physically normal someone could find on them. A horrible decaying shell to held their soft little heart.]

Death’ssssss name kid, why’s that matter to you??????

[They spoke with amusement in their echoing voice, shooting him a toothy smile, knowing well he didn’t mean for it to come across as the perverted question it came out as, but more than happy to take the opportunity to tease him about it anyway. Then, as quickly as they’d jokingly scolded him for asking, they switched their tone, an unspoken “just kidding” preceding their answer… avoiding referencing the exact anatomy of their fiance, of course.]

I don’t know about what other visitors have between their legssssss, I haven’t checked too many myself, but I haven’t met another one who wasn’t sure about their gender……

[Despite their joke, they spoke honestly, knowledgable as they are about their kind’s biology, no one they knew had exactly tried to reestablish gender roles in their species, nor had any of them seriously tried to reproduce in times like these. They strained trying to recall another visitor like them, one who similarly had no idea and one whose body was distorted as horribly as theirs… they had a feeling they must have met one even more hideous than themselves, some truly hideous thing with a trio of faces not unlike their own infinity, but… the memory is hazy, almost like recalling a dream. It certainly felt like one.

They weren’t quite sure if they were still human when they had come across this visitor, assuming they were any more than a figment of their own imagination… but their recollection was as hazy as all of their remaining memories of humanity were, so surely they were still alive then, right? Either way, they remember the feeling of cold, clotted blood on their body, on what must have been naked skin… why were they naked again? Maybe they just forgot what they were wearing, or maybe this was just some nonsense from their imagination . But… they remembered how their face ached, the taste of their own brain collapsing into their mouth, how stiff their body felt against the sharp black grass. They remember they felt good, like everything was okay in the world… surely a dream, then, it was the apocalypse after all. They shook their head as they refocused on Artie’s words, the memory fading back into the fog of their mind.]

I really don’t know kid, you can just call me one of them if you want, like I ssssssaid, it doesn’t bother me what you call me……

[They smile, failing to notice his jealousy at their nonchalance about their own gender and its expression, given they didn’t exactly envy their own situation, being free in a way they never sook to be, at the cost of becoming monstrous beyond any recognition through an agonizing and nonconsensual process. Why in the world would Artie be jealous of them?]

[carrying-coins]

No. Maybe? I don’t know! ‘S why I asked.

<he shifts against them, as they recoil their outstretched wings, resettled into the cavity of their chest. He huffs into the plume of fur bordering their neck, caught somewhere between indignant and embarrassed. Was it a stupid question? He feels scolded in a way that makes him feel it was a stupid question. He is also far too prideful to let himself get embarrassed that easily.>

I- No, no- I didn’t mean- ‘s jus’ like— I-I-…

<his nose drags along the space over their collarbone, the steady decline of muscle beneath their furs, until his nose rests at the ledge of their shoulder. Heat crawls up his neck settling into the pale flesh of his face, spanning over his bones, shocking his nerves, burning him from the inside out. Well now he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t catch the play in their tone, only the subtle cry of protest in their words at his curiosity.>

Sorry. <the lonesome word emerges with no more volume than the footstep of a mouse, awkward but entirely sincere. He is very cocky, but not quite enough so that he finds it below himself to apologize- mostly because he fears it would hurt their feelings if he didn’t. Though, the shame for his internal outburst of jealousy, and his unintentionally perverted question is certainly a strong motivator as well.>

<in the very least, he’s glad they answered his question. The information wasn’t important to him in any means past satiating curiosity, but he found it interesting nonetheless. Pink is a relatively unique case then, it seems. He considers vaguely what this meant for their human life. Were they always neutral in this way, even as a human, or did it come with their visitoring? He wonders if they had any children of their own, or if the potential oddity in their gender as a human made it impossible. Guilt takes him by surprise, at the notion. Is he taking the place of some more deserving person, or people? Ones who are wondering where their parent had gone, ones worrying themselves sick? Children of their own, who had been raised by pink, only for them to vanish? If the hypothetical children discovered an imposter in their place, how would they feel? They’d hate him probably. For good reason, too. He hardly deserves a place at their side, he hadn’t done anything to earn their care, other than displaying his obnoxiously persistent desire for connection. He retracts his arms from down their back, sliding delicately out of their lap with a frown. Do they only like him for fulfilling the subconscious space of some missing child? A puzzle piece that doesn’t fit quite right, but is just good enough to slot into the hole where their real child should be? He’s not their kid. He only sort of thinks he is, but that doesn’t count for much in the face of their real offspring. He’s probably only a placeholder. He turns the ring they gave him around his index, gut churning, pinkened in his bout of upset.>

What? <he forgot to pay attention. His mind catches up to what they’d been saying, letting silence settle between the two for only a moment, before he responds.>

Oh. Okay. Well…. How’s.. I don’t know. ‘S real hard t’ think of somethin’ that doesn’t sound stupid. Ah…. My name’s stupid anyways, so I guess we can be matching, right? <he giggles lightly, watching his hands, rather than holding their gaze. He figures that he doesn’t really have to keep eye contact to be polite anymore, right? Now they’re too deeply attached to leave him for his minor flaws. They can’t leave, like they could before, so it’s okay to drop his facade!>

…I don’t know. D’you like baba? I think ‘s not as bad as like… yaya or somethin’. Might be the best you’re gonna get.

<his guilt, jealousy and shame slip down the sides of his mind, no longer bothering him as persistently as they previously were. Now, they remain as a worried whisper at the base of his brain, slipping quietly between creases, unimportant now that he’s distracted.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[At his reaction to their teasing, they burst out with an echoing choir of laughter lasting a fair few seconds, one mouth becoming three as their focus on keeping their face together momentarily slipped]

Calm down kiddo, I’m just giving you a hard time!!!!!!

[Though they had been laughing seconds ago, their happiness quickly died down into silence at his almost pitiful little apology, all the joy of the moment killed for them seeing him genuinely ashamed from what they had intended as nothing more than kidding around. They did not stop him as he withdrew from their physical affection, only huffing with regret at their words.

Death’s name, they needed to figure out where they kept going wrong whenever they tried to play with Artie… he might not have started crying like he did last time, but it still certainly didn’t land well. It was times like these that they wished they remembered more about being human, as they could only imagine their issues with communication stemmed from visitors being far more solitary than humans… or perhaps they were just innately as bad with words as they were with pronouncing them. The thought led them back to wonders about their human life as well. Not every true visitor had sharp and inhuman looking teeth, but of the ones they knew that did, none of them had quite the same issues Pink did with forming words. Pearl had teeth too long for her mouth, just like them, and yet she hardly had any issues with speech! So, perhaps their struggles dated back to their human life? They supposed that made enough sense.

As for the family their human self might have had, they could be somewhat certain that they had never had children of their own. While their memory was unreliable, enough that the name of their mother was fuzzy in their memory, and enough that they could not recall their own gender, they couldn’t imagine they would forget something as important to them as a child!! Further, they were absolutely certain they never had a spouse, since there was no trace of anything with enough wear to be a wedding ring in the collection of rings they had awoken as a visitor with… and if they had no spouse, they couldn’t have had biological children!!

No, they were sure that Artie is their single child, and they imagine he always will be… up until the day he brings them a daughter in law, of course. They picture the day in their mind briefly, a smile on their face.]

Eh, it doesn’t really get much dumber than “Pink”…… or “big bird”……

[They laughed shortly as they recalled just about every terrible name they’d been given by various humans, almost all of them being terrible, much moreso than something as normal as “Arthur”. “Pink” was probably the kindest one they had been given, unsurprisingly bestowed upon them by the Therapist, though “Crowface” or “Birdface” was the oldest and most common one they heard, tied with a variety of curses. The only one that really bugged them, however, was being called “big bird” by anyone who wasn’t a little kid… it felt diminishing in ways that curses never really did.

Their favourite though, as of this moment, had to be “Baba”.]

It’s perfect, kid……

[They spoke with nothing but honest, genuine parental love in their voice, their single slitted eye dilated with that same overwhelming emotion. They never imagined when they met Artie that they’d ever even consider him a friend, let alone that he would be one of their 3 favourite people, but they regret nothing about the way things played out. They wouldn’t have it any other way.]

[carrying-coins]

art dump to compensate for my distinct lack of. Answering rps 😂😂😂

uhmji I don’t even know probably partial nudity under cut type shit

Notes: uhhn post cataclysm Artie on the right wow exciting.

Notes: Feat. Arties roomate uayyyy I am quite fond of him + also more Artie trying to be a working class citizen goodlyck bbg

Notes: coloured Lasha & Artie with their favorite colours and they just HAPPENED to end up lesbian coloured together 🙄🙄🙄🙄 smh my head

Notes: hiii Ignazio

Notes: coloured pencils not my friend fr hot damn

Notes: Lasha & Artie inspired by the hug painting this one ⬇️⬇️

And co-lying in ravens made me think of Artie & pink so . Yeah

Notes: hiiii Lucie I am so fond

Notes: I think about Artie 3rd wheeling Ignazio & arseni and it makes me chuckle a little bit

Notes: coloured pencil still not my friend. Hi arseni Lasha Artie Ignazio. I should’ve added Dima to the leg hurt gang but I forgot im such a bum sorry sigghh

oh boy out of space for images I’ll reblog with the rest smiling graciously

[carrying-coins]

Okay the rest

Notes: USA not making pennies anymore would genuinely devastate him

notes: Ilya & Artie get along only okay I think they’d beat eachother up if Artie didn’t run away first but that’s okay they’re working through it 💕💕

Notes: pissed this one came out good & I like it because I prolly seen like a freak or something when actually, I’m only trying to demonstrate his fear of cold smh smh smh this is why he STINKS !!!!! Eww

Okay now for tagging characters involved 🙄🙄

@digging-up-ghosts @flash-in-the-crucible I’m not tagging the other one so as not to blow up roe’s notifications #polite 😇 @not-a-ex-fema-i-swear and also not tagging jellise’s other one either 🔥🔥 @polarmauling I think that’s all.

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Ten million Ignazios yay yay yay!!! Look at him and Artie they’ve got matching hair absolutely pelting them both with rocks and tomatoes 🍅🍅🍅 I hate these queers boo 🍅🍅🍅 I love how Artie gets more kitty shaped and also more insufferable looking with each update I hate her so much <3<3

Also never stop drawing Artie and Pink being cute it’s my lifeblood wt this point I need it thanks

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……

[carrying-coins]

<he leans into them, as per their intention, face concealed halfway by the fur of their coats. The sensation of resting, even for a moment, hits him like a wave, dragging him under rapidly, flooding his lungs with a certain lethargic slowness, exhaustion at its finest. His body is hot, sticky with sweat in a way that they are likely terribly aware of. The aroma of vomit, and sweat, and sickness clings to him, as though he were the very horseman of plague, sat by their side in a tired mound, the heat of his body penetrating their coats quite quickly, despite the numerous layers present.>

<he considers what they’d told him. If not a visitor, or FEMA, then who?? He hasn’t suspected FEMA to begin with, but maybe some extraordinarily cruel visitor….? Even then, he hasn’t met any willing, or capable, to go to such an extreme. It’s a very odd thing, and it puts him on edge. Perhaps Amorette was a good thing, if she makes him stay inside…>

<he returns his attention to them, as they continue speaking, though his static-filled head makes it something of a nuisance to do.>

Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.. I jus’-… even if I get somethin’ out of it in the end, I still might fuck her over, an’ I don’t wanna do that, but y’know my mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes an’ then I ssay-… an’ then she’ll be stuck thinkin’ she was the problem all the time, or she’ll hate me, an’ I-.. <he sighs.> I dont wanna be like-.. <like his own parents. He didn’t even really know what a parents was meant to be like, up until he met pink. He’s afraid that he doesn’t have it in him to be any better. He worries that he’ll leave amorette hurt, or abandoned, that he’ll fail to care for her properly, regardless of his kind intentions. He has a way of messing things up, and he would really rather not this series of unfortunate blunders apply to Amorette as well.>

Whatever. I probably will figure things out, I’m jus’ a little worried ‘s all. Feels shitty to bring a kid into all this bullshit, y’know?

<he closes his eyes, conscious worry receding to the back of his head, though the general anxiety remains intact. He crosses his arms over his stomach, the ring they’d just adorned him with glinting dimly beneath the radiance of the moon. He wishes very much that he could sleep now, though he keeps himself as awake as he can, knowing he’ll have to return to take amorette from Nemoy once pink leaves again. He exhales relievedly at their agreement to watch his daughter, so glad that tears sting his eyes at the prospect of not having to keep an eye on her.>

Thank you sso much… ohh, you’re a godsend, mama… er- pink— I meant… nevermind. I’m jus’ tired.

<he peeps open one eye at his slip up, reviewing their face with some worry. He doubts they’ll mind much, though some whisper at the base of his skull argues otherwise, very convincing in its argument. He changes the topic quickly, in the hopes that they won’t notice.>

..Oh. Yeah, me too. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. ‘S some rancid shit, but I guess it makes sense, with everythin’ goin’ on..

<he fails to catch the lie in their tone, taking their words at face value instead.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were in fact horribly aware of how he smelled, with a nose like theirs, however they were even more aware of their own smell, one which had started to become apparent as of today, a little over a week since their last meal…the sour smell of something in active decomposition, of maggot-pockmarked roadkill, death. Visitors rotted far slower than actual corpses, taking hours to look truly dead, and days to start rotting, but they had put off eating long enough for their starvation to start to make itself clear once again.

They had to wonder how he tolerated it, how he tolerated them, how he could forgive them for how impossible they make it to love them… they were a thing, a thing with a monstrous face and decomposing body, a thing which had tried to eat him twice somewhat successfully, a thing that their own mother had not held love for… and yet, they’d tried hard enough that Artie still did. Almost reflexively by now, they moved to gently pet his hair as they spoke.]

Well, we’re not even the same sssssspecies, and the first thing I did when I met you was try to eat you, but there’ssssss no question in my mind right now about if I care about you, or if you care about me…… I can’t imagine words you could say on accident could put more of a divide between you and her than the boundaries we’re trampling this ssssssecond……

[They did their best to hold back on pointing out his language usage as he spilled his worries about parenting, vulgar as it was, they could wait to lecture him about it later. Still, they’d looked briefly irritated following each curse and swear, their face scrunching up with each instance like they were being repeatedly presented with some truly horrendous smell, attentive as they were to his other words.

Particularly, his little slip up.

Their wild pink eye went wide and dilated, like a cat about to pounce on prey or a toy alike, though they did not leap just yet, staring for a moment as they processed what they’d heard, like they had assumed they’d misheard it initially. Mama. Two syllables, easy enough to let slip out of your mouth on accident… but accident on not, it meant the world to them. Of course, they’d known for a while that them and Artie were more than just friends, no regular friendship would go to the lengths that they had for each other, lengths that only family, blood or not, ever would… but to hear confirmation of it still warmed their soft little heart. Their currently single mouth of needlish teeth slowly opened, hesitantly, into a smile, before they snatched him in an unintentionally tight hug, enough to lift him a few inches up, head bent down over his shoulder.]

You called me mama!!!!!!

[Their chest twitched and shook with the excited shuffling of their hidden wings, and from their laughter… well, they were either crying or laughing, Artie couldn’t quite tell, but it was out of pure joy either way.]

[carrying-coins]

<he too, often wonders how they can tolerate a person like him. Horribly keen on getting himself into dangerous situations, which he’s become relatively good at pulling himself out of, however on the off chance that he can’t… well, then it becomes Pink’s problem. In addition, his mouth runs loud and abrasive, hurtful without the slightest intention to hurt. He is generally unbearable to be around, and he really doesn’t understand why people are willing to withstand his presence now out of all times.>

<he enjoys their presence, despite their “shortcomings”, which aren’t really in their control, because they’ve cared for him more attentively than any other person he can recall coming into contact with, aside from perhaps Lasha. They actively seek his presence, which is something not many others are willing to do. At the end of the day, they really are his mama.>

<he only sighs at their counter argument. He could come up with a plethora of things that would contradict their reasoning, but only time would tell how adequately he could raise a child. Playing an endless game of what-ifs will get neither of them anywhere. He flinches at the touch of their palms atop his head, slightly more on-edge than normal. His hair is abysmally coarse presently, tangled with such masterful detail that you’d think he tied the knots himself.>

<their disgust at his word choice slips him by entirely. He’d been doing quite well at monitoring his language for some time around pink, but in the perhaps week or less since he’d seen them, his attention towards his mouth had regressed a great deal. He also doesn’t notice the dilation of their pupils, nor the smile preceding their swift move to bring him to their arms. The pressure they force on his ribs makes him wheeze into the furs over their shoulder, pinned to their chest like a taxidermy butterfly, its wings splayed out to its sides. The jouncing of their wings beneath their skin makes him squeal, a noise akin to a piglet’s shrill whine, tickled in his abdomen.>

Well- jus’ ‘cause I got— you! I meant-

<frantically, words topple out from behind his teeth, an unnecessary and poorly constructed attempt at defending himself. He gets the urge to justify his choice, despite their positive reaction. Finally, he settles on silence, arms relaxed over their shoulders, face nudged into the side of their neck at such an angle that his mouth and nose are each at least partially covered by their coats, to spare him the stench clinging to their skin. He takes comfort in the freezing temperature of their skin, to cool his hot face.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Hearing him frantically try, and fail, to defend his slip up in words, they couldn’t help but laugh through their already joyous tears, their mind overflowing with parental love for him, species divide be damned. Unable to keep themselves together for too long, their rib wings folded open partly to excitedly flex more freely, now only restrained by the fabric of their coats.

Even if he never once said they were his mama, never verbally expressed his love for them, never thought to gift them back for the ring they gave him, never would debate suicide at the thought of their relationship being irreversibly damaged, they can’t imagine they wouldn’t love him the exact same way regardless. They can’t imagine a work where they didn’t love him, impulses and rude language and all, with the unconditional affection of a mother. As hard as it was for either of them to fathom it, they were irreparably bonded together, two messed up individuals too comfortable around each other for their own good, never to abandon each other under any circumstance.]

Calm down kid, it’s okay, I’m not mad!!!!!!

[They were overjoyed, excited, overwhelmed, anything but mad, really. Im fact, his particular slip up got them thinking as well… “mama”… they supposed there wasn’t a gender neutral version of the term, maybe it was an easier default than “papa”, but… still, did this mean Artie saw them as a woman? Did this mean they WERE a woman? They weren’t sure how they felt about that, how correct that exactly was to admit. Women were beautiful, naturally ethereal, beings as innately and effortlessly beautiful as the cosmos, they were something so viscerally disgusting that shooting them on sight wasn’t a wholly unreasonable reaction… and besides that, it felt wrong, in a way they couldn’t fully articulate. No, they couldn’t be a woman.]

I love you, kid, I don’t think I ssssssay it enough……

[They spoke with a genuine affection to their echoing voice, thick and sweet as honey, and with a long breath out, they finally loosened their hold on him to something more comfortable for them both, arms falling to lay closer to the bottom of Artie’s ribcage. Wrong as it felt to perhaps be a woman, they could ignore the connotation if it meant Artie would call them his parent once again.]

[carrying-coins]

<he takes a breath at their verbal confirmation that they are, not in fact, upset with him. Sometimes body language and actual feelings don’t quite match up, he’s learned. Like Pearl, for instance. She is outwardly kind to him, and her perpetually fixed smile would imply that she is not upset with him, but her hatred is tangible. He could taste it in the air from a mile back, even with his general ineptitude in deciphering body language. Their wings graze his soft underbelly as they fold out, scraped very gently over the front of his dirty grey shirt, and he squirms some, something adjacent to a breathy giggle following his action.>

<the soft noise issuing out from his throat wavers and dies. Ilya’s words echo pink’s and he shifts uncomfortably in their lap. Artie, you make it very hard to love you. Two insults in one, truly. “You’re difficult”- preceding “to love”. Not only is he a burden, but also one who is undeserving of affection, let alone love. Are “undeserving of love” and “incapable of giving and receiving love” synonymous? He doesn’t know. Mostly he knows that things go poorly when he returns the words. He’d come to the conclusion that were he not to say “I love you” back to pink, when they came to visit after the accident, they would have fled into the night. He would’ve saved Ilya a bullet and their voice, pink getting scorched, and himself swimming through mountains of gore to separate the two halves of his life, so they didn’t kill one another. He’s terribly aware how irrational his thought process is, but with his track record it’s not entirely unreasonable either. He picks apart the blood-and-surely-other-bodily-fluids-crusted bits of fur on their coats, fingers working tirelessly behind their head. He could pretend he didn’t hear them? No, his ear is quite literally pressed against their throat, and the other is only his head’s width away from the origin of their voice. The silence spans on, like a walk of shame, straining in the darkness. Surely they could smell the insecurity seeping out from beneath his ribs, like some truly rancid secretion? Anxiousness and shame potent enough to make them gag. A change of topic might be good.>

…..you’re not really my “mama” though, are you?- er- I mean-… Are you even a woman?

<it comes out a little more accusatory than he intends it. “Are you even a woman?” Are you even anything? He doesn’t seem to catch it. If he did, he would have apologized. Instead, he moves his hands to a different section of their back, detangling these tufts of fur as he thinks. Do visitors actually have gender? Is pink a woman? Or are they a unique case? Unique to exclusively humans though, with their typically definable sexes, or unique to their species, too? From what he’s seen visitors are typically easy to separate into man or woman. And surely if they were only once-dead people, then they are man or woman, just like humans? But they also don’t seem to follow the same biological rules as humans. Can visitors reproduce? Hadn’t Lasha gotten pregnant with a visitor’s baby? So do they need a human host in order to have offspring? Pink is very difficult for him to stereotype. An octagonal peg, when as far as he was aware, there were only square and round ones. They’re very well-covered, which makes it difficult for him to determine their gender by those means, but their voice is sort of feminine… just carried with the cadence and vocabulary of a man? What would he even call them, if they’re not a man or woman?>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They couldn’t quite smell his feelings per se, but they could pick up with ease the anxious sweat beading on his neck and brow, and they could feel the sudden tension in his body, the rise of his shoulders and his stiffening spine. They weren’t always the best at reading people, but it wasn’t hard for them to figure out their words put him on edge… why? Did he mishear them, somehow, or did they say it wrong? They sure hoped not, a brow raising as they tried to figure out the mental hurdles of his mind blindfolded… they never landed on the conclusion that Artie believed that last night’s events would never have happened if he had just bit his tongue. They knew, of course, that they would not have left if he never said he loved them back, because they’d meant what they said, reciprocated or not. Even now, their sticking by his side despite his hesitation proved that no words of his, spoken or otherwise, might have changed things between them, especially not enough to save them from getting shot…

Though, they did decide to let it go, as Artie changed the topic, their expression reverting to their more regular smile]

I don’t…… I don’t know, really……

[Honestly, Artie knew about as much as they did regarding their own gender, hard as they’d tried to remember what they may have been as a human, and hard as they tried to find out otherwise. Even under their extensive coverings, hard as they looked… all indications of what they should have been have been distorted beyond identification. Their face, even held together to be as close as they can manage to human-looking, is not identifiably male or female in construction. Their voice too is, at best, slightly feminine in sound, though the echoing of their choir of a voice made any comparison to existing gender roles difficult. Similar is their chest, nippleless and with one side at least a full cup size larger than the other. That isn’t to even address the space between their legs, occupied by a massive perpetually weeping scar no prettier than their face, jagged and long enough to reach the lower edge of their navel. Like their face too, they knew well it widened further when they lost focus on keeping themselves from splitting, eventually joining together with their chest scar to form one long gorey line down their entire front half. Likely it was that whatever killed them had created it in their final moments, since wounds after death usually heal, but… why? Why not rip them in two after killing them first?]

I don’t care that much what you call me, though…… if you sssssay I’m not a woman, guess I’m not…… it’sssss not like I remember my name either……

[Not a woman… though it didn’t narrow things down, it felt more correct to say a thing like them could never be a woman… even if they felt as though they could never exactly be a man, either, hope as they might to be one for the purpose of marrying Pearl. They couldn’t exactly stay together if Pink was a woman, after all, what lunacy would that be! Besides, suits cover up more and are a bit harder to accidentally shred than dresses, and they would like to find something a bit nicer to wear than their coats someday… they didn’t look much like someone knowledgeable about gold in this wild animal aesthetic they have going on.]

[carrying-coins]

<he relaxes again, as they allow him to nose the topic of conversation into more comfortable territory. Well… maybe more comfortable. An odd sort of feeling nestles itself between his ribs, up his spine, and into his hands. But what? Something empty and jittery and hot. He frowns at their response.>

What d’you mean you don’t know?? How could you not know?

<how could they not know? What does this imply? He assumes their response means any typical indicator of what sex they may be, has either vanished with the appearance of their visitorhood, or is entirely unrecognizable, too difficult to label as one or the other.>

Does… like, Pearl, or any other visitor have-? Are they men or women?

<his frown deepens at their next response. His hands had already worked through all of the tangled fur he could reach, without bending himself further down their back. His work is finished then, he supposes. He allows his palms to lie flush against the backside of their ribs, warming up quickly with the insulation their coats provide.>

Well… ‘s in the middle between mama, an’ papa then? Pink, you’re not very helpful, I’m afraid.

<he laughs quietly into their coats, though it quickly dwindles and dies in the night, allowing a temporary silence to pool between them, until pink next speaks. The small, whispery feeling churns, gliding its hot, spiky body along his innards, and he frowns. What could it be? Something he isn’t very familiar with, certainly. He feels some small irritation at them, for being so neutral, such an entirely blank slate that they simply get to choose things like their name or gender. He quickly shoves any disdain he holds towards them, or their situation out of his head, more irritated with himself now. Whatever means brought them to this point were surely gruesome ones. He probably wouldn’t enjoy their visitoring process very much, even if it meant the ultimate prize was more freedom to define yourself the way you liked. God, was it jealousy, slipping its way down his spine with that sneaky, giggling voice? What is his problem? He almost feels the need to apologize, despite not having done anything outwardly wrong.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

CW: SA implication

[As they calmed down from the excitement of him calling them mama, they slowly folded their wings back into something more proper for human anatomy, and something that better protected their largely useless but incredibly delicate internal organs, in the process giving Artie an easier shape to wrap his arms around.]

Kid, you know how my face and my chest look, you think the resssssst of me’s any prettier??????

[Not to mention their often filthy and horribly overgrown claws, the wrinkled mold-grey surface of their skin, sometimes putrefied to the point of wholly dissolving into rotten sludge, their usually abhorrent smell, and their tendency to be found bent over meat that a vulture wouldn’t touch, they were anything but a pretty thing. Really it would be remarkable if there was anything physically normal someone could find on them. A horrible decaying shell to held their soft little heart.]

Death’ssssss name kid, why’s that matter to you??????

[They spoke with amusement in their echoing voice, shooting him a toothy smile, knowing well he didn’t mean for it to come across as the perverted question it came out as, but more than happy to take the opportunity to tease him about it anyway. Then, as quickly as they’d jokingly scolded him for asking, they switched their tone, an unspoken “just kidding” preceding their answer… avoiding referencing the exact anatomy of their fiance, of course.]

I don’t know about what other visitors have between their legssssss, I haven’t checked too many myself, but I haven’t met another one who wasn’t sure about their gender……

[Despite their joke, they spoke honestly, knowledgable as they are about their kind’s biology, no one they knew had exactly tried to reestablish gender roles in their species, nor had any of them seriously tried to reproduce in times like these. They strained trying to recall another visitor like them, one who similarly had no idea and one whose body was distorted as horribly as theirs… they had a feeling they must have met one even more hideous than themselves, some truly hideous thing with a trio of faces not unlike their own infinity, but… the memory is hazy, almost like recalling a dream. It certainly felt like one.

They weren’t quite sure if they were still human when they had come across this visitor, assuming they were any more than a figment of their own imagination… but their recollection was as hazy as all of their remaining memories of humanity were, so surely they were still alive then, right? Either way, they remember the feeling of cold, clotted blood on their body, on what must have been naked skin… why were they naked again? Maybe they just forgot what they were wearing, or maybe this was just some nonsense from their imagination . But… they remembered how their face ached, the taste of their own brain collapsing into their mouth, how stiff their body felt against the sharp black grass. They remember they felt good, like everything was okay in the world… surely a dream, then, it was the apocalypse after all. They shook their head as they refocused on Artie’s words, the memory fading back into the fog of their mind.]

I really don’t know kid, you can just call me one of them if you want, like I ssssssaid, it doesn’t bother me what you call me……

[They smile, failing to notice his jealousy at their nonchalance about their own gender and its expression, given they didn’t exactly envy their own situation, being free in a way they never sook to be, at the cost of becoming monstrous beyond any recognition through an agonizing and nonconsensual process. Why in the world would Artie be jealous of them?]

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……

[carrying-coins]

<he leans into them, as per their intention, face concealed halfway by the fur of their coats. The sensation of resting, even for a moment, hits him like a wave, dragging him under rapidly, flooding his lungs with a certain lethargic slowness, exhaustion at its finest. His body is hot, sticky with sweat in a way that they are likely terribly aware of. The aroma of vomit, and sweat, and sickness clings to him, as though he were the very horseman of plague, sat by their side in a tired mound, the heat of his body penetrating their coats quite quickly, despite the numerous layers present.>

<he considers what they’d told him. If not a visitor, or FEMA, then who?? He hasn’t suspected FEMA to begin with, but maybe some extraordinarily cruel visitor….? Even then, he hasn’t met any willing, or capable, to go to such an extreme. It’s a very odd thing, and it puts him on edge. Perhaps Amorette was a good thing, if she makes him stay inside…>

<he returns his attention to them, as they continue speaking, though his static-filled head makes it something of a nuisance to do.>

Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.. I jus’-… even if I get somethin’ out of it in the end, I still might fuck her over, an’ I don’t wanna do that, but y’know my mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes an’ then I ssay-… an’ then she’ll be stuck thinkin’ she was the problem all the time, or she’ll hate me, an’ I-.. <he sighs.> I dont wanna be like-.. <like his own parents. He didn’t even really know what a parents was meant to be like, up until he met pink. He’s afraid that he doesn’t have it in him to be any better. He worries that he’ll leave amorette hurt, or abandoned, that he’ll fail to care for her properly, regardless of his kind intentions. He has a way of messing things up, and he would really rather not this series of unfortunate blunders apply to Amorette as well.>

Whatever. I probably will figure things out, I’m jus’ a little worried ‘s all. Feels shitty to bring a kid into all this bullshit, y’know?

<he closes his eyes, conscious worry receding to the back of his head, though the general anxiety remains intact. He crosses his arms over his stomach, the ring they’d just adorned him with glinting dimly beneath the radiance of the moon. He wishes very much that he could sleep now, though he keeps himself as awake as he can, knowing he’ll have to return to take amorette from Nemoy once pink leaves again. He exhales relievedly at their agreement to watch his daughter, so glad that tears sting his eyes at the prospect of not having to keep an eye on her.>

Thank you sso much… ohh, you’re a godsend, mama… er- pink— I meant… nevermind. I’m jus’ tired.

<he peeps open one eye at his slip up, reviewing their face with some worry. He doubts they’ll mind much, though some whisper at the base of his skull argues otherwise, very convincing in its argument. He changes the topic quickly, in the hopes that they won’t notice.>

..Oh. Yeah, me too. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. ‘S some rancid shit, but I guess it makes sense, with everythin’ goin’ on..

<he fails to catch the lie in their tone, taking their words at face value instead.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were in fact horribly aware of how he smelled, with a nose like theirs, however they were even more aware of their own smell, one which had started to become apparent as of today, a little over a week since their last meal…the sour smell of something in active decomposition, of maggot-pockmarked roadkill, death. Visitors rotted far slower than actual corpses, taking hours to look truly dead, and days to start rotting, but they had put off eating long enough for their starvation to start to make itself clear once again.

They had to wonder how he tolerated it, how he tolerated them, how he could forgive them for how impossible they make it to love them… they were a thing, a thing with a monstrous face and decomposing body, a thing which had tried to eat him twice somewhat successfully, a thing that their own mother had not held love for… and yet, they’d tried hard enough that Artie still did. Almost reflexively by now, they moved to gently pet his hair as they spoke.]

Well, we’re not even the same sssssspecies, and the first thing I did when I met you was try to eat you, but there’ssssss no question in my mind right now about if I care about you, or if you care about me…… I can’t imagine words you could say on accident could put more of a divide between you and her than the boundaries we’re trampling this ssssssecond……

[They did their best to hold back on pointing out his language usage as he spilled his worries about parenting, vulgar as it was, they could wait to lecture him about it later. Still, they’d looked briefly irritated following each curse and swear, their face scrunching up with each instance like they were being repeatedly presented with some truly horrendous smell, attentive as they were to his other words.

Particularly, his little slip up.

Their wild pink eye went wide and dilated, like a cat about to pounce on prey or a toy alike, though they did not leap just yet, staring for a moment as they processed what they’d heard, like they had assumed they’d misheard it initially. Mama. Two syllables, easy enough to let slip out of your mouth on accident… but accident on not, it meant the world to them. Of course, they’d known for a while that them and Artie were more than just friends, no regular friendship would go to the lengths that they had for each other, lengths that only family, blood or not, ever would… but to hear confirmation of it still warmed their soft little heart. Their currently single mouth of needlish teeth slowly opened, hesitantly, into a smile, before they snatched him in an unintentionally tight hug, enough to lift him a few inches up, head bent down over his shoulder.]

You called me mama!!!!!!

[Their chest twitched and shook with the excited shuffling of their hidden wings, and from their laughter… well, they were either crying or laughing, Artie couldn’t quite tell, but it was out of pure joy either way.]

[carrying-coins]

<he too, often wonders how they can tolerate a person like him. Horribly keen on getting himself into dangerous situations, which he’s become relatively good at pulling himself out of, however on the off chance that he can’t… well, then it becomes Pink’s problem. In addition, his mouth runs loud and abrasive, hurtful without the slightest intention to hurt. He is generally unbearable to be around, and he really doesn’t understand why people are willing to withstand his presence now out of all times.>

<he enjoys their presence, despite their “shortcomings”, which aren’t really in their control, because they’ve cared for him more attentively than any other person he can recall coming into contact with, aside from perhaps Lasha. They actively seek his presence, which is something not many others are willing to do. At the end of the day, they really are his mama.>

<he only sighs at their counter argument. He could come up with a plethora of things that would contradict their reasoning, but only time would tell how adequately he could raise a child. Playing an endless game of what-ifs will get neither of them anywhere. He flinches at the touch of their palms atop his head, slightly more on-edge than normal. His hair is abysmally coarse presently, tangled with such masterful detail that you’d think he tied the knots himself.>

<their disgust at his word choice slips him by entirely. He’d been doing quite well at monitoring his language for some time around pink, but in the perhaps week or less since he’d seen them, his attention towards his mouth had regressed a great deal. He also doesn’t notice the dilation of their pupils, nor the smile preceding their swift move to bring him to their arms. The pressure they force on his ribs makes him wheeze into the furs over their shoulder, pinned to their chest like a taxidermy butterfly, its wings splayed out to its sides. The jouncing of their wings beneath their skin makes him squeal, a noise akin to a piglet’s shrill whine, tickled in his abdomen.>

Well- jus’ ‘cause I got— you! I meant-

<frantically, words topple out from behind his teeth, an unnecessary and poorly constructed attempt at defending himself. He gets the urge to justify his choice, despite their positive reaction. Finally, he settles on silence, arms relaxed over their shoulders, face nudged into the side of their neck at such an angle that his mouth and nose are each at least partially covered by their coats, to spare him the stench clinging to their skin. He takes comfort in the freezing temperature of their skin, to cool his hot face.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Hearing him frantically try, and fail, to defend his slip up in words, they couldn’t help but laugh through their already joyous tears, their mind overflowing with parental love for him, species divide be damned. Unable to keep themselves together for too long, their rib wings folded open partly to excitedly flex more freely, now only restrained by the fabric of their coats.

Even if he never once said they were his mama, never verbally expressed his love for them, never thought to gift them back for the ring they gave him, never would debate suicide at the thought of their relationship being irreversibly damaged, they can’t imagine they wouldn’t love him the exact same way regardless. They can’t imagine a work where they didn’t love him, impulses and rude language and all, with the unconditional affection of a mother. As hard as it was for either of them to fathom it, they were irreparably bonded together, two messed up individuals too comfortable around each other for their own good, never to abandon each other under any circumstance.]

Calm down kid, it’s okay, I’m not mad!!!!!!

[They were overjoyed, excited, overwhelmed, anything but mad, really. Im fact, his particular slip up got them thinking as well… “mama”… they supposed there wasn’t a gender neutral version of the term, maybe it was an easier default than “papa”, but… still, did this mean Artie saw them as a woman? Did this mean they WERE a woman? They weren’t sure how they felt about that, how correct that exactly was to admit. Women were beautiful, naturally ethereal, beings as innately and effortlessly beautiful as the cosmos, they were something so viscerally disgusting that shooting them on sight wasn’t a wholly unreasonable reaction… and besides that, it felt wrong, in a way they couldn’t fully articulate. No, they couldn’t be a woman.]

I love you, kid, I don’t think I ssssssay it enough……

[They spoke with a genuine affection to their echoing voice, thick and sweet as honey, and with a long breath out, they finally loosened their hold on him to something more comfortable for them both, arms falling to lay closer to the bottom of Artie’s ribcage. Wrong as it felt to perhaps be a woman, they could ignore the connotation if it meant Artie would call them his parent once again.]

[carrying-coins]

<he takes a breath at their verbal confirmation that they are, not in fact, upset with him. Sometimes body language and actual feelings don’t quite match up, he’s learned. Like Pearl, for instance. She is outwardly kind to him, and her perpetually fixed smile would imply that she is not upset with him, but her hatred is tangible. He could taste it in the air from a mile back, even with his general ineptitude in deciphering body language. Their wings graze his soft underbelly as they fold out, scraped very gently over the front of his dirty grey shirt, and he squirms some, something adjacent to a breathy giggle following his action.>

<the soft noise issuing out from his throat wavers and dies. Ilya’s words echo pink’s and he shifts uncomfortably in their lap. Artie, you make it very hard to love you. Two insults in one, truly. “You’re difficult”- preceding “to love”. Not only is he a burden, but also one who is undeserving of affection, let alone love. Are “undeserving of love” and “incapable of giving and receiving love” synonymous? He doesn’t know. Mostly he knows that things go poorly when he returns the words. He’d come to the conclusion that were he not to say “I love you” back to pink, when they came to visit after the accident, they would have fled into the night. He would’ve saved Ilya a bullet and their voice, pink getting scorched, and himself swimming through mountains of gore to separate the two halves of his life, so they didn’t kill one another. He’s terribly aware how irrational his thought process is, but with his track record it’s not entirely unreasonable either. He picks apart the blood-and-surely-other-bodily-fluids-crusted bits of fur on their coats, fingers working tirelessly behind their head. He could pretend he didn’t hear them? No, his ear is quite literally pressed against their throat, and the other is only his head’s width away from the origin of their voice. The silence spans on, like a walk of shame, straining in the darkness. Surely they could smell the insecurity seeping out from beneath his ribs, like some truly rancid secretion? Anxiousness and shame potent enough to make them gag. A change of topic might be good.>

…..you’re not really my “mama” though, are you?- er- I mean-… Are you even a woman?

<it comes out a little more accusatory than he intends it. “Are you even a woman?” Are you even anything? He doesn’t seem to catch it. If he did, he would have apologized. Instead, he moves his hands to a different section of their back, detangling these tufts of fur as he thinks. Do visitors actually have gender? Is pink a woman? Or are they a unique case? Unique to exclusively humans though, with their typically definable sexes, or unique to their species, too? From what he’s seen visitors are typically easy to separate into man or woman. And surely if they were only once-dead people, then they are man or woman, just like humans? But they also don’t seem to follow the same biological rules as humans. Can visitors reproduce? Hadn’t Lasha gotten pregnant with a visitor’s baby? So do they need a human host in order to have offspring? Pink is very difficult for him to stereotype. An octagonal peg, when as far as he was aware, there were only square and round ones. They’re very well-covered, which makes it difficult for him to determine their gender by those means, but their voice is sort of feminine… just carried with the cadence and vocabulary of a man? What would he even call them, if they’re not a man or woman?>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They couldn’t quite smell his feelings per se, but they could pick up with ease the anxious sweat beading on his neck and brow, and they could feel the sudden tension in his body, the rise of his shoulders and his stiffening spine. They weren’t always the best at reading people, but it wasn’t hard for them to figure out their words put him on edge… why? Did he mishear them, somehow, or did they say it wrong? They sure hoped not, a brow raising as they tried to figure out the mental hurdles of his mind blindfolded… they never landed on the conclusion that Artie believed that last night’s events would never have happened if he had just bit his tongue. They knew, of course, that they would not have left if he never said he loved them back, because they’d meant what they said, reciprocated or not. Even now, their sticking by his side despite his hesitation proved that no words of his, spoken or otherwise, might have changed things between them, especially not enough to save them from getting shot…

Though, they did decide to let it go, as Artie changed the topic, their expression reverting to their more regular smile]

I don’t…… I don’t know, really……

[Honestly, Artie knew about as much as they did regarding their own gender, hard as they’d tried to remember what they may have been as a human, and hard as they tried to find out otherwise. Even under their extensive coverings, hard as they looked… all indications of what they should have been have been distorted beyond identification. Their face, even held together to be as close as they can manage to human-looking, is not identifiably male or female in construction. Their voice too is, at best, slightly feminine in sound, though the echoing of their choir of a voice made any comparison to existing gender roles difficult. Similar is their chest, nippleless and with one side at least a full cup size larger than the other. That isn’t to even address the space between their legs, occupied by a massive perpetually weeping scar no prettier than their face, jagged and long enough to reach the lower edge of their navel. Like their face too, they knew well it widened further when they lost focus on keeping themselves from splitting, eventually joining together with their chest scar to form one long gorey line down their entire front half. Likely it was that whatever killed them had created it in their final moments, since wounds after death usually heal, but… why? Why not rip them in two after killing them first?]

I don’t care that much what you call me, though…… if you sssssay I’m not a woman, guess I’m not…… it’sssss not like I remember my name either……

[Not a woman… though it didn’t narrow things down, it felt more correct to say a thing like them could never be a woman… even if they felt as though they could never exactly be a man, either, hope as they might to be one for the purpose of marrying Pearl. They couldn’t exactly stay together if Pink was a woman, after all, what lunacy would that be! Besides, suits cover up more and are a bit harder to accidentally shred than dresses, and they would like to find something a bit nicer to wear than their coats someday… they didn’t look much like someone knowledgeable about gold in this wild animal aesthetic they have going on.]

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……

[carrying-coins]

<he leans into them, as per their intention, face concealed halfway by the fur of their coats. The sensation of resting, even for a moment, hits him like a wave, dragging him under rapidly, flooding his lungs with a certain lethargic slowness, exhaustion at its finest. His body is hot, sticky with sweat in a way that they are likely terribly aware of. The aroma of vomit, and sweat, and sickness clings to him, as though he were the very horseman of plague, sat by their side in a tired mound, the heat of his body penetrating their coats quite quickly, despite the numerous layers present.>

<he considers what they’d told him. If not a visitor, or FEMA, then who?? He hasn’t suspected FEMA to begin with, but maybe some extraordinarily cruel visitor….? Even then, he hasn’t met any willing, or capable, to go to such an extreme. It’s a very odd thing, and it puts him on edge. Perhaps Amorette was a good thing, if she makes him stay inside…>

<he returns his attention to them, as they continue speaking, though his static-filled head makes it something of a nuisance to do.>

Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.. I jus’-… even if I get somethin’ out of it in the end, I still might fuck her over, an’ I don’t wanna do that, but y’know my mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes an’ then I ssay-… an’ then she’ll be stuck thinkin’ she was the problem all the time, or she’ll hate me, an’ I-.. <he sighs.> I dont wanna be like-.. <like his own parents. He didn’t even really know what a parents was meant to be like, up until he met pink. He’s afraid that he doesn’t have it in him to be any better. He worries that he’ll leave amorette hurt, or abandoned, that he’ll fail to care for her properly, regardless of his kind intentions. He has a way of messing things up, and he would really rather not this series of unfortunate blunders apply to Amorette as well.>

Whatever. I probably will figure things out, I’m jus’ a little worried ‘s all. Feels shitty to bring a kid into all this bullshit, y’know?

<he closes his eyes, conscious worry receding to the back of his head, though the general anxiety remains intact. He crosses his arms over his stomach, the ring they’d just adorned him with glinting dimly beneath the radiance of the moon. He wishes very much that he could sleep now, though he keeps himself as awake as he can, knowing he’ll have to return to take amorette from Nemoy once pink leaves again. He exhales relievedly at their agreement to watch his daughter, so glad that tears sting his eyes at the prospect of not having to keep an eye on her.>

Thank you sso much… ohh, you’re a godsend, mama… er- pink— I meant… nevermind. I’m jus’ tired.

<he peeps open one eye at his slip up, reviewing their face with some worry. He doubts they’ll mind much, though some whisper at the base of his skull argues otherwise, very convincing in its argument. He changes the topic quickly, in the hopes that they won’t notice.>

..Oh. Yeah, me too. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. ‘S some rancid shit, but I guess it makes sense, with everythin’ goin’ on..

<he fails to catch the lie in their tone, taking their words at face value instead.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were in fact horribly aware of how he smelled, with a nose like theirs, however they were even more aware of their own smell, one which had started to become apparent as of today, a little over a week since their last meal…the sour smell of something in active decomposition, of maggot-pockmarked roadkill, death. Visitors rotted far slower than actual corpses, taking hours to look truly dead, and days to start rotting, but they had put off eating long enough for their starvation to start to make itself clear once again.

They had to wonder how he tolerated it, how he tolerated them, how he could forgive them for how impossible they make it to love them… they were a thing, a thing with a monstrous face and decomposing body, a thing which had tried to eat him twice somewhat successfully, a thing that their own mother had not held love for… and yet, they’d tried hard enough that Artie still did. Almost reflexively by now, they moved to gently pet his hair as they spoke.]

Well, we’re not even the same sssssspecies, and the first thing I did when I met you was try to eat you, but there’ssssss no question in my mind right now about if I care about you, or if you care about me…… I can’t imagine words you could say on accident could put more of a divide between you and her than the boundaries we’re trampling this ssssssecond……

[They did their best to hold back on pointing out his language usage as he spilled his worries about parenting, vulgar as it was, they could wait to lecture him about it later. Still, they’d looked briefly irritated following each curse and swear, their face scrunching up with each instance like they were being repeatedly presented with some truly horrendous smell, attentive as they were to his other words.

Particularly, his little slip up.

Their wild pink eye went wide and dilated, like a cat about to pounce on prey or a toy alike, though they did not leap just yet, staring for a moment as they processed what they’d heard, like they had assumed they’d misheard it initially. Mama. Two syllables, easy enough to let slip out of your mouth on accident… but accident on not, it meant the world to them. Of course, they’d known for a while that them and Artie were more than just friends, no regular friendship would go to the lengths that they had for each other, lengths that only family, blood or not, ever would… but to hear confirmation of it still warmed their soft little heart. Their currently single mouth of needlish teeth slowly opened, hesitantly, into a smile, before they snatched him in an unintentionally tight hug, enough to lift him a few inches up, head bent down over his shoulder.]

You called me mama!!!!!!

[Their chest twitched and shook with the excited shuffling of their hidden wings, and from their laughter… well, they were either crying or laughing, Artie couldn’t quite tell, but it was out of pure joy either way.]

[carrying-coins]

<he too, often wonders how they can tolerate a person like him. Horribly keen on getting himself into dangerous situations, which he’s become relatively good at pulling himself out of, however on the off chance that he can’t… well, then it becomes Pink’s problem. In addition, his mouth runs loud and abrasive, hurtful without the slightest intention to hurt. He is generally unbearable to be around, and he really doesn’t understand why people are willing to withstand his presence now out of all times.>

<he enjoys their presence, despite their “shortcomings”, which aren’t really in their control, because they’ve cared for him more attentively than any other person he can recall coming into contact with, aside from perhaps Lasha. They actively seek his presence, which is something not many others are willing to do. At the end of the day, they really are his mama.>

<he only sighs at their counter argument. He could come up with a plethora of things that would contradict their reasoning, but only time would tell how adequately he could raise a child. Playing an endless game of what-ifs will get neither of them anywhere. He flinches at the touch of their palms atop his head, slightly more on-edge than normal. His hair is abysmally coarse presently, tangled with such masterful detail that you’d think he tied the knots himself.>

<their disgust at his word choice slips him by entirely. He’d been doing quite well at monitoring his language for some time around pink, but in the perhaps week or less since he’d seen them, his attention towards his mouth had regressed a great deal. He also doesn’t notice the dilation of their pupils, nor the smile preceding their swift move to bring him to their arms. The pressure they force on his ribs makes him wheeze into the furs over their shoulder, pinned to their chest like a taxidermy butterfly, its wings splayed out to its sides. The jouncing of their wings beneath their skin makes him squeal, a noise akin to a piglet’s shrill whine, tickled in his abdomen.>

Well- jus’ ‘cause I got— you! I meant-

<frantically, words topple out from behind his teeth, an unnecessary and poorly constructed attempt at defending himself. He gets the urge to justify his choice, despite their positive reaction. Finally, he settles on silence, arms relaxed over their shoulders, face nudged into the side of their neck at such an angle that his mouth and nose are each at least partially covered by their coats, to spare him the stench clinging to their skin. He takes comfort in the freezing temperature of their skin, to cool his hot face.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Hearing him frantically try, and fail, to defend his slip up in words, they couldn’t help but laugh through their already joyous tears, their mind overflowing with parental love for him, species divide be damned. Unable to keep themselves together for too long, their rib wings folded open partly to excitedly flex more freely, now only restrained by the fabric of their coats.

Even if he never once said they were his mama, never verbally expressed his love for them, never thought to gift them back for the ring they gave him, never would debate suicide at the thought of their relationship being irreversibly damaged, they can’t imagine they wouldn’t love him the exact same way regardless. They can’t imagine a work where they didn’t love him, impulses and rude language and all, with the unconditional affection of a mother. As hard as it was for either of them to fathom it, they were irreparably bonded together, two messed up individuals too comfortable around each other for their own good, never to abandon each other under any circumstance.]

Calm down kid, it’s okay, I’m not mad!!!!!!

[They were overjoyed, excited, overwhelmed, anything but mad, really. Im fact, his particular slip up got them thinking as well… “mama”… they supposed there wasn’t a gender neutral version of the term, maybe it was an easier default than “papa”, but… still, did this mean Artie saw them as a woman? Did this mean they WERE a woman? They weren’t sure how they felt about that, how correct that exactly was to admit. Women were beautiful, naturally ethereal, beings as innately and effortlessly beautiful as the cosmos, they were something so viscerally disgusting that shooting them on sight wasn’t a wholly unreasonable reaction… and besides that, it felt wrong, in a way they couldn’t fully articulate. No, they couldn’t be a woman.]

I love you, kid, I don’t think I ssssssay it enough……

[They spoke with a genuine affection to their echoing voice, thick and sweet as honey, and with a long breath out, they finally loosened their hold on him to something more comfortable for them both, arms falling to lay closer to the bottom of Artie’s ribcage. Wrong as it felt to perhaps be a woman, they could ignore the connotation if it meant Artie would call them his parent once again.]

[underlying-warmth]

OOC: Any NINAH RP Blogs that are active, reblog this and I will make a list of all the active blogs so as folks know who they can rp with

OC and Canon, crossovers, any NINAH RP blogs. Let's try to make the community active again!

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

This blog and @flash-in-the-crucible are as active as I can make them!!

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……

[carrying-coins]

<he leans into them, as per their intention, face concealed halfway by the fur of their coats. The sensation of resting, even for a moment, hits him like a wave, dragging him under rapidly, flooding his lungs with a certain lethargic slowness, exhaustion at its finest. His body is hot, sticky with sweat in a way that they are likely terribly aware of. The aroma of vomit, and sweat, and sickness clings to him, as though he were the very horseman of plague, sat by their side in a tired mound, the heat of his body penetrating their coats quite quickly, despite the numerous layers present.>

<he considers what they’d told him. If not a visitor, or FEMA, then who?? He hasn’t suspected FEMA to begin with, but maybe some extraordinarily cruel visitor….? Even then, he hasn’t met any willing, or capable, to go to such an extreme. It’s a very odd thing, and it puts him on edge. Perhaps Amorette was a good thing, if she makes him stay inside…>

<he returns his attention to them, as they continue speaking, though his static-filled head makes it something of a nuisance to do.>

Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.. I jus’-… even if I get somethin’ out of it in the end, I still might fuck her over, an’ I don’t wanna do that, but y’know my mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes an’ then I ssay-… an’ then she’ll be stuck thinkin’ she was the problem all the time, or she’ll hate me, an’ I-.. <he sighs.> I dont wanna be like-.. <like his own parents. He didn’t even really know what a parents was meant to be like, up until he met pink. He’s afraid that he doesn’t have it in him to be any better. He worries that he’ll leave amorette hurt, or abandoned, that he’ll fail to care for her properly, regardless of his kind intentions. He has a way of messing things up, and he would really rather not this series of unfortunate blunders apply to Amorette as well.>

Whatever. I probably will figure things out, I’m jus’ a little worried ‘s all. Feels shitty to bring a kid into all this bullshit, y’know?

<he closes his eyes, conscious worry receding to the back of his head, though the general anxiety remains intact. He crosses his arms over his stomach, the ring they’d just adorned him with glinting dimly beneath the radiance of the moon. He wishes very much that he could sleep now, though he keeps himself as awake as he can, knowing he’ll have to return to take amorette from Nemoy once pink leaves again. He exhales relievedly at their agreement to watch his daughter, so glad that tears sting his eyes at the prospect of not having to keep an eye on her.>

Thank you sso much… ohh, you’re a godsend, mama… er- pink— I meant… nevermind. I’m jus’ tired.

<he peeps open one eye at his slip up, reviewing their face with some worry. He doubts they’ll mind much, though some whisper at the base of his skull argues otherwise, very convincing in its argument. He changes the topic quickly, in the hopes that they won’t notice.>

..Oh. Yeah, me too. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. ‘S some rancid shit, but I guess it makes sense, with everythin’ goin’ on..

<he fails to catch the lie in their tone, taking their words at face value instead.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were in fact horribly aware of how he smelled, with a nose like theirs, however they were even more aware of their own smell, one which had started to become apparent as of today, a little over a week since their last meal…the sour smell of something in active decomposition, of maggot-pockmarked roadkill, death. Visitors rotted far slower than actual corpses, taking hours to look truly dead, and days to start rotting, but they had put off eating long enough for their starvation to start to make itself clear once again.

They had to wonder how he tolerated it, how he tolerated them, how he could forgive them for how impossible they make it to love them… they were a thing, a thing with a monstrous face and decomposing body, a thing which had tried to eat him twice somewhat successfully, a thing that their own mother had not held love for… and yet, they’d tried hard enough that Artie still did. Almost reflexively by now, they moved to gently pet his hair as they spoke.]

Well, we’re not even the same sssssspecies, and the first thing I did when I met you was try to eat you, but there’ssssss no question in my mind right now about if I care about you, or if you care about me…… I can’t imagine words you could say on accident could put more of a divide between you and her than the boundaries we’re trampling this ssssssecond……

[They did their best to hold back on pointing out his language usage as he spilled his worries about parenting, vulgar as it was, they could wait to lecture him about it later. Still, they’d looked briefly irritated following each curse and swear, their face scrunching up with each instance like they were being repeatedly presented with some truly horrendous smell, attentive as they were to his other words.

Particularly, his little slip up.

Their wild pink eye went wide and dilated, like a cat about to pounce on prey or a toy alike, though they did not leap just yet, staring for a moment as they processed what they’d heard, like they had assumed they’d misheard it initially. Mama. Two syllables, easy enough to let slip out of your mouth on accident… but accident on not, it meant the world to them. Of course, they’d known for a while that them and Artie were more than just friends, no regular friendship would go to the lengths that they had for each other, lengths that only family, blood or not, ever would… but to hear confirmation of it still warmed their soft little heart. Their currently single mouth of needlish teeth slowly opened, hesitantly, into a smile, before they snatched him in an unintentionally tight hug, enough to lift him a few inches up, head bent down over his shoulder.]

You called me mama!!!!!!

[Their chest twitched and shook with the excited shuffling of their hidden wings, and from their laughter… well, they were either crying or laughing, Artie couldn’t quite tell, but it was out of pure joy either way.]

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

what’s the extent of pink’s sense of smell? Like can they smell hormonal changes in people (like dogs)(if they can, they can also smell illness & certain emotions?) or is their sense of smell weaker, so they can only differentiate between people by scent, but they can’t smell more minute things/ chemical changes?

Pink, and most visitors as I headcanon them, are roughly equivalent to dogs like malinois in most regards! Same sense of smell, same top speed, same bite force (though Pink’s is multiplied by the sheer number of mouths they have), etc! I took the analogy of visitors being dogs VERY literally lmao

So, yes, they can smell things like hormonal changes and illness in people!!

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

*A polite voice interupted whatever Pearl was doing.*

- Excuse me, miss Pearl ?

*The young tour guide took a strand of her long black hair and put it behind her hair.*

- I would like t-to have a little chat with you, i-if you are okay with that of course !

*By the sound of her voice and the way she played with her bloodied hands, Lucie was going to ask for a big favor... Or something very ankward. Or not ? She was knowed for her mood swings, and showed either a carefree and tone-deaf happy personality, or a very polite, shy and nervous one. This Lucie was the later.*

- It's about... Being a visitor.

*She said it like a teenage daughter asking her mother for a womanly talk...*

- @tie-girl-lucie 🪼

[Pearl had been reading in the library, something she had been spending most of her free time at the school doing since Lasha had gifted her that copy of Frankenstein. She sat on a small nest of pillows, with her legs curled up beneath her, hidden by the sparkling blue fabric of her dress, in such a way she reminded Lucie of a mermaid resting on a rocky outcrop. Her shining blue eyes met Lucie’s once she heard the younger woman’s voice.]

Oh, you!! I have seen you around the school, yes, sit down.

[She gestured to the carpeted floor across from her with an inviting look, not quite a smile but somewhere close to it, before she inserted a bookmark into the book spread across her lap and flipped it closed.]

About being a visitor? Well, for a start, you do not need to call me by a name if there is no humans around, names are part of human culture, not ours.

[She said that with the sort of tone you might hear from a teacher telling you that using their first name is fine. It was breaking some sort of wall of formality and lessening the feeling of a power difference, even if Pearl was still more knowledgeable and older, it felt a little less intimidating to approach her.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

*Frankenstein was a very good choice. Lucie gave a little smile at Pearl when she closed the book, and accepted to sit next to her. She was a out of this world looking woman, well, visitor, and her smell...*

- Did anyone ever tell you you reminded them of the ocean ? You... Smell like the Atlantique. Sorry, that was a weird thing to say ! Hum...

*She ankwardly coughed in her fist, her bloody hand leaving a trail of red on her chin as she did. She desperatly licked it, as discreet as possible...*

- But what am I supposed to call you, then ? Miss Nothing ? It's a bit rude, no ?

*Lucie and her obsession with politness and rules of society...*

- So, names are useless ? Shall I not present myself ?

*Quickly, she tried to remove her lanyard... It held a badge reading : "Hello, my name is Lucie. I am a nice visitor. DO NOT SHOOT". Miraculously, it seemed to work, as she was still alive. But she was now concious of how pathetic it looked and, magenta-faced, put it in the back pocket of her trousers.*

- Aha...

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Yes, I have heard that a few times… I am somewhat certain I became a Visitor after I drowned, which I think is why I look and smell like I do now.

[She said that in a matter-of-fact manner, seemingly rather unbothered to know how her life ended, or Lucie’s comment about the effects of it, though she did not remember the entirety of the night she died. She could recall her husband coming home late, she could recall a very heated fight with him, she remembered things getting physical, and she remembered her clothes being soaked when she came back from the dead, little more than that. None of which she was intending to tell someone she’d just met!]

It is only rude in human culture, just “miss” is fine here. Many of us have no names, and while it is not wrong to have one, we tend to assume those around us do not have one. Does that make sense?

[She could come up with a dozen examples of nameless visitors herself, including many Lucie likely knew well… herself, her partner, the pale man, the ballerina, the shivering man, none of whom were referred to by names, either they were titles, or they were pronouns.

She mirrored Lucie’s smile, but hardly reacted to Lucie coughing up blood, given it was a common sight for visitors to be bleeding from any place imaginable. Her partner especially was no exception, with their easily torn skin around their surgical sites, and their shoulders that she so loved to tear into, claws and teeth both.]

What else did you have to ask me?

[tie-girl-lucie]

- It makes sens... But I feel like it's very, very important to still be a person, even right now. You can call me the girl in the tie, or the purple girl, or just miss, as you wish. But to be fair, madame, I'd prefer if you would call me Lucie.

*Such a polite way to refer to someone. She tried to learn quick, as that mentor figure might be as quickly gone as the others !

But to be fair, Lucie was not smilling very much anymore.*

- So... you remember how and when you died ?

*She held her breath, her red hands in front of her pink mouth, in shock. Drowning ! So painful ! But also so beautiful...*

- I still dont. And no one saw me die either. I met the Pale Man some months ago, and then, I became sick... And a bit sicker every day. And I cannot find a turning point between Human and Visitor. Everyone seems to remember something. Being at F.E.M.A for Ilias, melting in the sun for Augus, you drowning, Koda and Beetle being shot... But me ? I don't remember dying ! What if I'm not ?

*Despite not being delusional on her visitor status anymore, Lucie still held the hope she was alive and never died, and thus was a special and privileged visitor, maybe an incomplete one, maybe there was hope !

There was none. She simply forgot how much the sickness took her and her long agony in the Old House's attic. She passed away in her sleep, almost peacefully, without a soul to notice. When she woke up the next day, she was a bit hungrier than usual and her head hurt, nothing more, nothing less.

It was a long and dreadfull curse but even worse was her hope.*

- So it makes me think... Is there any way for me, and for others to... Go back ?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, we are not human, but not having names does not make us lesser, Lucie, we are just changing our language to match who we are. Remember how you said I smelled like the ocean? Every one of us smells distinct, it is how we identify each other instead.

[She hid her offense, no matter how many times she heard a new visitor innocently misunderstand the conventions of their culture as dehumanizing, it never ceased to annoy her. Distancing from humanity was largely the point, after all, to allow Visitors as a species to form community independent of their prey and single largest threat! Lucie will understand with time, she figured, the Therapist was politely curious in her same manner after all and he had integrated excellently so far… likely, Lucie will too.]

I… well, I do not remember how or when exactly. Most do not remember how it happened in any detail, I only know I was soaked with water not too far away from the lake when I came back to my senses, so I figured I had to have drowned. You may be the same, Lucie, you just might not have had any clues like I had.

[She likely would not have known she was dead herself if she hadn’t changed so drastically upon her resurrection, after all… she might have just brushed it off as her falling asleep at the beach if she came back looking roughly the same. Though, by Lucie’s tone, she figured the younger woman had long suspected the truth, but denied it in hopes it would make a difference in her fate for her to do so. Her blue eyes, sharp and shining like ice, scraped over every line in Lucie’s face, trying to discern more information.]

Well, the only way to tell apart a visitor is by scent, there is no other line between human and an average visitor. No “sign” that FEMA insists on is credible, and death is not an explicit requirement to become a visitor either. There certainly is a line between regular visitors and true visitors though, or “supervisitors” as I have heard us called… I hope that much is obvious from our appearances.

[She was more than aware of exactly what differentiated a standard visitor from one like herself, though it was something she would not tell to anyone who was not ready for the truth… well, not explicitly. The only one in recent memory she intends to tell directly is the Therapist, he had absolutely proved himself prepared for it, however she would offer Lucie a hint in the right direction, as she would any other visitor…]

That is to say, Lucie, I have an honestly pathetic nose for someone of our kind… but I did not know if you were human or not until you got close enough to smell... I can confirm, you are one of us. You may not have died, or you may have not remembered it, but that makes no difference. You are one of us now, and there is no turning back.

[tie-girl-lucie]

- Sooo... What you mean is that all visitors know each other, like... A secret society ? And... Everyone just has other ways of identification ? By smell ?

*She was a bit confused, but her heart was in the right place. And it did make sens for her, given her new senses. Her ears were stronger than her nose or eyes, but seeing in the dark and smelling preys around was a damn useful tool and she grew accepting of it. But she was still overwhelmed most of the time, and the headphones she wore were a sign of how she tried to accomodate the others rather than simply leaving the place for a silent and calm retreat... Like the others did. Like her dear Beetle...*

- How does it work ? I received no memo or... Or anything to help, really. Is it only "True Visitors" who hold a council ? Or... Or is it like telepathy ? Am I a "weaker visitor" ?

*She shut up to listen to the woman's words, and smiled at her answers. Finally ! Maybe the start of... Something else. But was it good ? Lucie wanted to stay human ! Not join them ! There was no need for a divide !*

- Yes ! I took notes about that, wait !

*Seeking for her journal, Lucie proudly showed her notes on visitors and all the observations she made. Most of it was probably false, but her register of all the visitors around might be usefull. She also kept a clean timeline of events, and that was quite a weird work in their situation...

But at the other's last words, Lucie lost her smile, head low, watching her bloody hands that were "not a credible sign." Just anxiety. Just eczema.*

- Well, you... You don't know that !

*Denial and anger.*

- Maybe there is. It's like a disease, surely there is a cure ! If we search hard enough... I am trying to get my body to stomach human food and I have yet to murder anyone, despite turning months ago !

*She says it with pride, very happy of her lackluster capacities. In all truth, she was a disaster holding by a thread, but that bargaigning with destiny was better than nothing, surely.*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Oh, no, we certainly do not all know each other, there is millions of us all around the world, but I do know nearly all of us in the immediate area well enough. You will soon as well, there is not that many faces to remember. It is not much of a secret society at all, nothing I may tell you here is something you must keep secret… well, keep it secret to FEMA, but I hope you know by now to keep your distance from them.

[By this point in her visitor life, she had grown to think of speaking’s without using names as so normal, she found it strange whenever she came across another Visitor so insistant on sticking to a group they no longer belonged to. It felt a little bit like how she did while reading Frankenstein, like hopping back in time to read words that weren’t necessarily wrong, but they were anything but something she was acquainted with.]

Yes, most new visitors are not lucky enough to be immediately informed by another Visitor, but most end up having this exact conversation soon or later, as we really do not have a more efficient option…

[She thought again of the Therapist, as she thought of exactly the sort of organization her and other true visitors have. It wasn’t something as formal as a council, any human could spontaneously become another member of their group after all… but, the choice to consciously allow someone to join their ranks, as the Therapist soon would, was somewhat like a council electing a new member. Perhaps they were a council, more than just leaders followed because of their knowledge and power.]

And, I suppose you could call it a council, but yes, the few of us who are true Visitors do know things no other human or visitor does. It is for the best that what we do know is not shared, though.

[Pearl glanced over Lucie’s writings as she presented her journal to the older woman with her best Poker face, trying not to let judgement or difficulty show too much. She struggled to read much of what Lucie had written, she had not read much in her nearly 60 years of being alive, nor was she familiar with cursive. But what she could make out… trying to turn back human? “Mutations”? Was this a theory on her fiancé? Lucie seems to have been acquainted with them, why didn’t she ask them these questions instead?? She seems to have met Him as well, why did she wait to ask her specifically??]

Disease? Hah, no, that was an idea invented by FEMA. No, Lucie, we are not sick humans, we are either dead, or we might as well be, and no matter of diet will turn a fried egg into a rooster. It is why we eat humans, because our own bodies are rotting by the minute, and they must be replaced with fresh meat.

[She dared to laugh at the ridiculous notion that becoming a visitor was a reversible process, especially that something as simple as resisting the temptation to eat human meat or kill would somehow make a difference. This was no bridge that could be freely walked between, it was at best a cragged 300 metre cliff atop a violent sea, where approaching the certain death of the bottom was far too easy, even if the waves and winds did not knock you down involuntarily, but recovering from any sort of fall was wholly impossible.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

T.W : kind of a gorey / weird description of being dead ?

*Chubby cheeks up in a smile, eyes sparkling with hope and her curiosity being satisfied, Lucie felt her heart fall back in her stomach when the nameless woman who smelled like the sea laughed at the most important work of her life. Or of her death, in all reality.

Slowly, Lucie's smile dropped, and the glossy light in her eyes dimmed down letting her look like a dead fish washed away on shore. Pupils wide but empty of both soul and life. She stared at the beautiful woman stupidly, looking quite dumb with her semi parted lips, dried and bleeding, perfect teeth shining through it.

Lucie was dead.

Lucie died long ago.

Lucie would never be alive again.

The warmth of her body was gone and the liquid smoothness of her skin was eruding for good. Her hands were a start but already it was gaining her wrists and her feet were even worst and worse again. Her eyes were dulling day after day and her lips were cracked forever, red not in make up but in stagnant blood. Her blood was static in her cold veins, slowly turning brown, and her heart was never to pump again unless she ate a fresher one.

She was never to feel Beetle's body by her side again and she was never to have a family with him as her womb was as rotten as the rest of her. No amount of Pax's teasing would change that fact.

She was never to find her family again in France or she would offer her parents the rotting body of their long lost daughter, who died in a foreign land far away from her home. Her sister would run away at the smell alone. No amount of flowery perfume would change that fact.

She was never to feel the taste of salted butter on her tongue again. Even her tears had the disgusting taste of ashes. And no amount of training would change that fact.

Yet her bloodshot eyes quickly fill with yellow teinted tears smelling of decay. The white eggsack of a fly fall down her cheek, chased off it's "home" in her tear canal. It had been a long time since she ever saw herself in a mirror.

Curled in a little ball, head in her bloody hands, hidding it all in her knees, Lucie cried and cried again as her eyes opened to the cold truth. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead.

She did not answer the woman, who gave her so much information. She was incapable of letting anything go past the knot in her throat except sobs she was desperatly trying to control. The realisation she was chocking on her own despair was crossing her mind as she felt breathless and her purple skin turned a beautiful indigo.

Trying to hold some sort of dignity, wich was quite impossible at the realisation hit after hit that she was DEAD and NEVER TO TURN THAT AROUND, Lucie scrambled to get back her silly journal, that left her "mentor" so unimpressed. Let water destroy it, it was a bunch of nonsense anyway !*

- S-Sorry I b-b-bothered you with... A-all that. I... I r-really... I tho- I w-wanted to be special.

*It was not coming out at all at dignified, polite, or even coherent.

But what was a dead girl supposed to do anyway ?*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Pearl’s amusement faded as she watched Lucie break, that sparkle in her eyes draining from her face as shining tears. But, she did not reach out to comfort the younger visitor, she did not mirror Lucie’s sadness, she only stared blankly, confused.

As she watched Lucie break down into a hysterical, sobbing mess… she couldn’t understand why Lucie was so upset. She had stopped smiling, but her expression never once pivoted to pity, or empathy, those pretty blue eyes of her remained cold. Come on, it was pretty obvious she was dead and rotten, and it’s not like being dead itself is something miserable!! Pearl wasn’t throwing tantrums or being so horribly dramatic about this, because death… or Death, she could say, was nothing to be so upset about. Death was the best thing to ever happen to her, really! So… why was Lucie acting like this?? Was it something Pearl said?

Her mind jumped to running through every explanation that made sense to her… all words and all actions had a motive for their expression, she knew that well, and it just didn’t make sense that Lucie would be actually upset about this. Crocodile tears? …maybe, though Lucie was ugly crying, usually tears to invite guilt were prettier than this. Wait… Lucie did have many theories about other visitors in her journal, and she grabbed it back very roughly from her…

She had figured it out. Lucie must have hated her from the start, there must be pages and pages of insults directed at Pearl written down in that journal, and Lucie had started crying and grabbed the book back so Pearl wouldn’t see everything she had said!! She should have known from Lucie’s veneer of human politeness, all of it was just pretty little lies!! She bet Lucie thought she was a dalit turned foreign whore as a human, which is exactly why she came back as the sirenish thing she is know!! She bet Lucie thought she was hideous in her old age!! She bet Lucie knew of the sickness of her mind, and believes she should have never left the loony house!! Pearl’s pretty blue eyes grew dark as she drew her conclusions, looking down at Lucie with a poker face masking her new feelings about the younger visitor.]

Why are you… doing that?

[The words fell out of her mouth, regretfully, as she scrambled to switch her mask. Lucie had no longer earned her true thoughts, so she pivoted back to the politeness she had always greeted those she did not particularly like with. Now, what are you supposed to say when someone’s crying, in polite society… think Pearl, think!! You are a proper woman, you know manners well!! Tell her something she wants to hear!!]

I mean… do not cry, it is not so bad when you get used to it.

[She hoped that was the socially correct thing to say in a situation like this… she had no idea though, she was terrible with people even before they locked her up.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

*Lucie's mind was too innocent and too self-absorbed to realise what was happening in her new "visimentor"'s mind. For her, the ankwardness and relative coldness of the stranger was due to surprise and maybe a bit of shyness, and nothing mean spirited. After all, werent they all meant to be in the same team, all working together hand in hand for... For what ? For Her ? For the end of Humanity ?*

- NO ! No please ! I don't want to do it ! I don't want to be a visitor !

*Lucie was rotting away and soon, if no other visitor took pity on her, she would have to...

Her "rookie status" was fading away with time. Her refusal to kill was less and less cute and more and more annoying for the others. Her despair was not endearing and touching but a nuisance for visitors, and a pathetic attempt at manipulation for humans. But Lucie was genuine in everything. She was no liar. She was no smart manipulator. She was no hidden evil, just a bomb ready to explose...

The other never landed her a hand, but it not deter Lucie to pathetically throw herself at her feet, in a begging position.*

- Turn me back ! Please, you know so many things, there must be a way ! I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't want to be DEAD either ! Please, please, please help me !

*Her voice was high piched in despair, throat so closed she almost chocked on her words, all breathless and ugly faced.*

- I don't want to get used to it ! I was very happy before ! I have a loving family, I had a job I loved, I had nice friends and good coworkers, I- I had one I... I found special and now she is a human still and even if we call sometimes I... I canno't ever see her again...

*Oh, Lucie, you truly are the saddest kitten in a cardboard box on the side of the road ever.

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[They were indeed meant to be on the same team, together in whatever exactly was the end goal of and supposed to be on friendly terms at that… however, her definition of “friendly” extended only to not being openly hostile to her own side. Though, reflexively pulling her legs away from Lucie as she drew too close to her was not an intentional dig at the younger visitor, her briefly wide eyes made that clear enough. Her expression quickly settled back to something cold and venomous, as she tucked her legs beneath her sparkling blue dress.]

If you want me to tell you the truth, you have to accept that what I say is honest, girl. There is no way for you to turn back. This is it.

[For further emphasis, she decided not to use Lucie’s name anymore. It was visitor culture to abandon it after all, she could do to get used to it. Two trains of thought rolled along on the same track in her mind, thoughts which should contradict in an average mind, cars which should crash in a mess of flames, but they continued along anyway. At the same time, Lucie was a stupid, clueless girl, insulting Pearl purely because she didn’t know better, and she was also a manipulative, cruel individual crying and throwing her weight around with malicious intent to her every action.

In her mind, Lucie had not earned honesty, she had earned Pearl’s spiteful smile… but, she knew the truth would be more difficult to bear now, and a lie would only justify Lucie’s behaviour, so she continued on.]

But if what you missed about being human was your family and your friends, well, they could be turned too… I would have to see if they have the potential for it, not every human does!!

[Her smile did not reach her eyes, lifeless as a fish on a market display.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

T.W : Gorey descriptions.

*"This is it."

No more, no less. This was it.

Everything was going downsouth, lately. Lasha. Apollyon. Spiral. Beetle. Koda. Rei. Everyone was hating her, leaving her, or going worse and worse. This was it. The beggining of the end.

She was right. That nameless woman in her princess dress, refusing Lucie her name, refusing her even a physical contact, was as cold as the truth. Lucie shivered. All her dead meat was feeling frozen. Suddenly, she was aware of the rot. The only life within her was parasitic. Larvae and flies. She could feel them squirming inside, tickling her insides, buzzing in her head.

She wept more silently now. Her face was full of those yellowish tears, staining her elegant button down and tie. Purple, red, yellow, blue and green, a little clown, a sad rainbow.*

- ... Give me all the truth you are willing to share. I will listen.

*Her voice was broken, but she now sensed how upset her visimentor was. Surely she disliked such an emotional outburst. Lucie tried to clean herself with her sleeves, but to no avail. She was stained.*

- ... Turned ? N-no. They leave in France, and there are no more planes or even trains... I... I'll think about a way.

*A good way to not say how horrified she was at the idea of turning her loved ones the same way she had. Anything but that ! Wasnt Death kinder ?*

- Most of my friends are already visitors anyway. My lover too but he... He dissapeared, recently. I don't know where he is...

*Dead. Probably dead. Was it the fault of this F.E.M.A agent ? Someone else ? Or was her dear Beetle mourning away his terrible gesture ?*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

If you promise you will listen…

[Seeing Lucie regress into something calmer, Pearl decided to give her grace, a second chance. Seeing, and more importantly smelling that rotten rainbow leaking from the dead girl before her, she decided to offer Lucie some fleeting, genuine kindness. She produced a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress, her face slightly scrunched up as she leaned forward to hand it over to Lucie. Death’s name, this girl needed to get herself something to eat.]

Your lover? What does he look like? I am sure one of us has seen him, that is the beauty of community!

[Pearl could find some kindness in her heart for Lucie’s lover, if only for a fleeting moment…. Pink and her have been separated quite a few times, it was a very common issue for visitors that patrolled such large swathes of land to lose track of one another, especially for a visitor with a nose as weak as Pearl’s. Even in this present moment, she was still worried for them, worried they may not have survived after the ordeal Artie got himself into. She wanted so desperately to come home and see they’re alright, and yet, she dreaded what she might find where her partner should be.

Yet, her mind was not in the right place, and soon that brief concern started to twist again. No, Lucie knew Pink, and as a visitor she must know how common it is for one to lose track of another… she must be saying what she is because she’s trying to pry unearned concern out of her!! That ditzy personality was all just an act, and these words must be another part of it!! Despite her intent to give Lucie the benefit of the doubt, her blue eyes stayed cold, dangerous and dark as the hadal zone.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

- I WILL ! I will...

*Regretting her shouting, Lucie spoke softer now, raising a hand over her mouth as an apology.*

- I promise I will listen. I just don't want to be alone... Please... If you know anything...

*She would promise anything. Any thing.

Suddenly self aware of her own ugliness and uselessness right this moment, Lucie could only beg for forgiveness. She did not know her crime but years and years of social anxiety and people pleasing teached her when someone just... Disliked her. Why ? Oh, that she did not know. But this tone, those eyes, the way she moved away from her... It was all so familiar. So when the other offered this promise, Lucie took it with both hands. It was like a saving boat with just one tiny place left... For her if she squeezed into it.

And when she so mercifully handed her this little piece of fabric for Lucie to dry her tears and blow her nose as politely as possible, she felt like she did something better, by being submissive and pathetic. Even tho she did not miss the grimace -who could blame her ? Lucie smelled AWFUL !-, she decided to continue this way. It seemed more efficient than false hype and confidence.*

- He is not very tall. Short brown hair and fair skin. The most beautiful green eyes... Red sclera. Some freckles and beauty marks on his face... Kind of fit, and... Soft looking. He should have round glasses and a kind face... He is the most tender man there ever was. If you know anything...

*Could such a man really exist ? Was this real or simple the romanticism of a young woman, an artist at that, speaking over the truth ?*

- I have searched for him everywhere. Alive or dead, I smelled him nowhere. He just vanished after... After his first kill. I think he could not face it. He knew the kid and... It was ugly.

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Good.

[Pearl replied shortly, sourly… it appeared Lucie’s vulnerability fueled her unexplainable hatred even more than her polite lies. “I don’t want to be alone”… Pearl knew well what a lie that was. Lucie had made herself clear, that she knew all there was to know about Pearl, and she despised every bit of it. Lucie knew about Pearl’s time in the lunatic asylum, how much of a schizo she was, how she would rip out her hair and hit herself over and over again just to feel some sort of stimulation between meals. Lucie knew too about how the white walls of the school made her remember those horrible days and worse nights alone in that white room, and Lucie laughed at her for it.]

Oh, no I do not believe I have seen him then… condolences.

[Her apology was empty, a kindness for her given exactly what she had convinced herself of for Lucie’s nature. If nothing else, she was committed to her job, and given it meant avoiding physical violence with her coworkers, she would manage to control herself. Really, if she calmed herself down out of this spiral, she might still fetch something for Lucie to eat… it would be out of duty to her community alone, but still. However, her civility quickly melted away as she spoke again.]

Well, not all of us are cut out for this way of life… perhaps the guilt was too much alone…

[Pearl spoke coldly, knowing exactly what her words implied… if Lucie would torment her, Pearl thought it only fair to be exactly as cruel back. He was dead for good, and it was her fault. ]

[tie-girl-lucie]

- Oh...

*Squeezing her terrible hands together, Lucie felt salty tear drops burn her flesh even further.

Plic, ploc, plic, ploc, just falling on her praying hands.*

- I see. I... I guess... I guess you dont know everyone, surely. Maybe...

*The purple woman was trying to keep it together but her denial and trembling lips were so very pathetic and ugly she had to look away. She was such an histerical mess. No wonder someone as put together, elegant and mature as this woman would judge her to be disgusting !

Lucie got up silently, on trembling legs, trying so hard to stay dignified. The tissue was a lifeline but it couldnt reallt handle all her yellow tears and soon it was only a wet fluo, smelly mess.

But she had to say something to the woman who was so nice to her and tried her best to help. Of course her tone was cold and her eyes were judging her but that was what a teacher was supposed to be like. Pax could be cruel too, sometimes. But she was more huggable and sister like.

Would Pearl hug poor Lucie ? No certainly not. Maybe Lucie didnt even deserve it anymore. After all she died and couldnt be a good corpse and stay dead. She dissobeyed the most important law of Nature. She was an insult to Life itself. She ate so many disgusting things, cooking it to play normalcy. She hurt Star. She attacked the Homeowner. She let Pavel fall into despair and let Spiral and Koda meet their fates. Oh she was a rotten, rotten girl !*

- ... T-Thank y-you fo-for trying... You are... V-very nice.

*She couldnt resist her pain anymore and started sobbing even harder after this point. This was hell. She needed to go calm down somewhere !

Of course she knew how it was. Even herself... After her first attack... Didnt she flee to her own old appartement, only to destroy it and rot in those dirty walls ? Hadnt Pax and her dear Beetle came for her, wouldnt she had done... What the supervisitor implied Beetle did ?

Oh. Her beautiful Pavel. So gentle and loving. The softest soul ever, and so moral and empathetic ! No wonder he couldnt.*

- I *hic* ... I think I already k-kinda... knew. Oh... My baby... My baby...

*Her heart died a second time.*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Pearl stared blankly at Lucie as the other visitor broke down, her rage slowly dying out at the sight of the crying woman before her, until only an empty pit remained. She felt little sympathy for Lucie, such a feeling was one of many she could never quite conjure, but shame settled in her chest like a great black bear, overwhelming in its weight. She shouldn’t have been insulting Lucie like that, that was miles too far, especially when Pearl is supposed to be the more mature of the two. Death’s sake, what is her problem, letting her mind wander off into a spiral like that?

Okay, she had to fix this, she made this mess, how does she clean it up? What’ll get Lucie to stop crying? She’s crying about her partner, obviously, but Pearl really does have no idea where he is, or if he’s alive or not… wait, Pink usually stops crying if Pearl gets them something to eat, maybe that’ll work on Lucie too!

Now, what’ll buy her some time to hunt something… she has time in the night, but what’ll keep Lucie occupied enough to not marinate on Pearl’s words too much… actually, she knows just the thing!

As Lucie rose to a stand, Pearl stood up with her, gently taking the younger woman’s wrist with one hand, to avoid touching her truly rancid hands. With the other hand, Pearl brushed her own wavy black hair out of her face, allowing for easier reading of her expression, before she rested that same hand on Lucie’s shoulder, a gesture she hoped meant something positive. She had honestly no idea what she was doing with any of this of course, she’d not had to keep someone besides Pink from crying in decades, and they were her fiance!! Still, she decided to give it a shot.]

No, I should not have said that, I am sorry…

[Pearl struggled to find the words for the message she hoped to convey, more than she often did speaking Russian as her third language. Hopefully Lucie could forgive her lack of tact alongside her insensitivity.]

Come on, I know somewhere nicer than this school to cry…

[She gently tugged on Lucie’s wrist, taking a step towards the library doors… she hoped her idea would work the same way it worked on Pink.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

*Quite fortunatly for Lucie, the young visitor was the "cuddly" type, and leaned into the touch of the other with great surrender. To Pearl's fright, she even seemed ready for a hug, but refrained politly.*

- This is so embarassing... I... I think I should go and calm d-down, so sorry to give myself in spectacle like that, not in my habits I swear... So sorry...

*Playing with her terrible and rancid hands, Lucie pulled at a loose skin piece, peeling a new little lign along her little finger. Then, to dispose of the skin spaghetti properly and politly, she ate it, discreetly, mouth hiden behind her other hand.

Than she did it again, following with small rapid steps. And with each little spaghetti, Lucie looked a bit calmer. Grounded.*

- ... Where are you taking me ?

*At least she was truly curious. Even tho she roamed the streets most nights, Lucie was new here, in this country, in this part of the city... It was all a discovery ! And so, deep within, her natural excitement and curiosity flared up, drying her tears a little.

She tried to keep her poor broken heart in a very closed box deep inside her soul. But she sucked with locks, secrets, and keeping any emotion to herself. She was just so sensitive. So fragile. So useless.

As a Museum Worker, it worked, of course. She was good with being polite and ressourceful. Following protocol. But as a visitor ? Oh, she sucked. And the person supposed to help her just saw quite a bad first impression ! Her cheeks were magenta in shame and sadness, head low, following like a very obedient employee.*

- I... I appreciate what you are doing for me, Madame. Forgive my fragility, it's just that... I..I... Miss so, so many people...

*A stop.*

- ... Do you miss some people from... "before" ?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Pearl only gripped Lucie’s shoulder a little tighter in response to her suggestion to leave, despite having too difficult of a time finding appropriate words to reply, and despite her disgust with Lucie’s autocannibalism. No, she was going to fix this, she was going to do the right thing, she wasn’t going to let Lucie run off and do… what Pearl assumed she would.]

No, I want you to come with me to the lake, it is calm and open there. No… white walls.

[Really, Pearl too could do to get outside for a bit anyway, if only to escape the school for a while. The white walls, so lifeless and cold, brought back horrid memories, which felt more and more recent as Pearl spent time in a place so identical to where they happened. There may be more people here this time, but Pearl wasn’t ignorant enough to trust most of them to be better than the staff at the lunatic asylum.

She calmed herself with thoughts of the lake, as she led Lucie outdoors, past Ilya standing guard. She greeted them with a smile and a respectful nod as she walked by.]

I met my fiance there, actually. I bring them there when they cry too.

[She revealed, as a way to keep the silence from building up tension as they walked, something she thinks people like Lucie would appreciate… hopefully. Pink likes quiet, but Lucie talks a lot, so she probably likes to hear talking, she guessed.]

…No. I never knew anyone worth missing until I became a Visitor.

[Pearl replied stiffly, honestly. She never had friends to miss in her human life, everyone besides her husbands driven away by either her horribly wrong mind, or her second husbands isolation. She didn’t have family to miss, they were all the way in Gujarat, thousands of kilometres away, not that she would miss people who would treat her how they did. All that left her with was her husbands… and all she felt of her memory of them was a teeth gritting, violent rage.

No, life had treated her cruelly, she was better off in Death.]

[tie-girl-lucie]

- ... Really ? Not a soul ?

*Pearl assumed wrong.

Lucie was too much of a coward to ever do anything against herself. Even after her little runaway, all she did was mop around, cry, and listen to sad musics on her red MP3, like a teenager really going through it. She had too much love for life to throw it away, even as devastated as she was. She had so much love to give everything and everyone.

A bit calmed down, Lucie followed like a very obedient employee. As they passed the FEMA guard, Lucie held her head low, and hid her hands in her pockets. Of course Ilya knew, but he nodded back at the both of them as they passed by. It seemed he never truly feared Pearl, and kept Lucie in check enough not to worry about her case too much. A domesticated weapon.

When they both were away enough, Lucie dared to speak again.*

- I guess I cannot imagine how lonely such a life must have been. I understand better why you made the switch so easilly, compared to me. I guess you died a long time ago already, in a way...

*Her curved brows furrowed, in a strike of genius.*

- Sorry. That was very rude.

*She prononced it "rood", almost. Her accent was thicker when her mouth ran wild, and she

- I can never keep my toungue tied. I didnt mean anything mean by it, it's just that I feel like I have lost so, so much. And some, well, they leave humanity with less regret.

*The Lake. She knew where it was, as she went there once. It was a romantic place, and quite peaceful. A break of nature in this suffocating city. That was a nice idea. But the tought "oh I wish I could bring Beetle there..." just destroyed her heart a bit further. But she dared not say it outloud, and just left a heavy sight out of her chest.*

- But me ? I just cant say "goodbye" yet.

*She counted on her fingers her visitor and human loved ones. She had a tiny bit more humans. Artie, Spiral, Lasha, her family, versus Koda, Pink, Pax, Reitaro, and Rocky. It was a close call. And if Pearl joined...

- I need to call my sister and tell her I love her. I have not heard her voice in such a long time... Emmanuelle. She must have turned 22 now. She's still in France, and safe. The phone here does not work very well but in the city I have found one that reaches far away still and... Sorry. I must bore you to death. Well... "second death" I guess... I shut up now. I promise.

*She followed with strong steps, not tired in the slightest. She looked strong, despite her shyness, and she walked those streets with confidence everynight. She seemed happier and less stressed outside, to tell the truth.*

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

[Though Pearl hid it as well as she always did, she was incredibly by the notion that her life was meaningless because the people in her life meant nothing to her. Death’s sake, was this girl even real? Had she never made herself a good meal and enjoyed the taste? Never read a good book? Never let herself sink to the bottom of a pool just to hear the way the water bent the sounds of the world? Never stargazed? Life was more than the people in it, SO much more, so was death of course, so how could someone older than a CHILD think a life like Pearl’s was a wholly unfulfilling one?? Pearl grit her teeth and stared at Lucie with wide, angry eyes, the cage of teeth poking out through her lips locking together, as she held back her urge to slap some damn sense into Lucie. Visitor on visitor violence was something that nearly never occurred, and while Pearl wanted to keep it that way… this girl made her reconsider.]

No, I did not miss one soul, but I was not lonely, I just lived for me, not for other people. I still do, now. Even if every last person I cared about died right this second, I would keep living. I would cry, of course, but my reasons for wanting to be alive are independent of what anyone else around me.

[Pearl spoke with masked fury, unconsciously speaking louder than before as a result of her emotions. Thankfully for the both of them, the lake was not a long walk away in such a little town, so Pearl could get away with giving Lucie the silent treatment in the meantime, a break from speaking to the younger visitor she desperately needed after such an insult. She’d never given someone this many olive branches in hee life, just for them to snap each and every last one. She would avoid ever talking to this girl again after this if possible, she decided.

As they finally made it to the lake however, she calmed, staring out at the same water she had when she’d met Pink for the very first time. Before they’d had the bird mask or the fur coats. She didn’t look long at them, they made it obvious that they hated to be stared at, but she never thought they had the face of the “monster” they called themselves. The only thing she would change about them is giving them a mouth that could kiss her back. The good memories gave her enough will to hold out another olive branch, one which will certainly be burned like every last one she had given Lucie.]

I used to be an ice skater, when I was a lot younger, and I want to see winter come again after a summer like this, and hopefully get back out on the ice. That is what keeps me going, and even if I skate alone, I will be skating, and that’s what matters.

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

<fuck, took him long enough. The silhouette of some towering animal, clad in the black of night, and recognizable nonetheless, with their oh-so-familiar narrowed beak comes as a fantastic relief to him. Mainly he was out to track them down. As a secondary task, so as not to waste his time just in case he couldn’t, he’d been out trying to find supplies for his recent predicament. He’s very lucky to have succeeded in his primary task, because unearthing exactly what he needs for this situation has proven…. Difficult.>

<well…. He’d found them. He’d found them, so what now? He hadn’t really thought about what to say. This makes him nervous, which is an odd thing to be, for him, because he isn’t nervous nearly… ever. He tries to think very quickly, because surely they can smell him now, which means that if he doesn’t come to them, they’ll only come to him. He hesitates, before moving towards them, resumed in his mission.>

Pink, hi- er- hey… <bad start. He inhales shallowly, hardly taking in enough oxygen to resettle himself.> Look, will you come with me? I really need t’ get your help with somethin’, ‘cause-…. Well, it’d be better if I jus’ show you, I think…. Ah… please??

<he talks very quickly, a certain stiffness to his tone. He looks distinctly… tired. Worn down, almost. He also reeks of something softer, and something acidic, adjacent to the scents of shampoo and vomit, only slightly off. Nothing that he’d smell of typically, worn like an awful cologne, to such a degree that his usual scent becomes more of an undertone than anything.>

<the delivery of his request came across more poorly than he’d hoped for, and he pulls at the strap of his bag, not dissimilarly to the way he had upon meeting them at the therapist’s house. He looks nearly ready to sink to his knees and either sleep or cry for some time, however, he does not. He only looks at them tiredly, and anxiously, waiting for some signal that they will not scold him for whatever he desires them for.>

—🪙 ( @carrying-coins )

[Pink had smelled Artie before they were saw him, his signature smell of coins still easily picked up by their nose despite the rancid smell of vomit accompanying him. Worried as that smell made them for his wellbeing, they had figured if he was sick enough for it to be his own vomit, he wouldn’t have the strength to be wandering around the wastelands… but that begged the question, whose was it? They approached with little hesitation as they picked out his silhouette in the darkness, getting something to eat could wait.]

Hey kiddo!!!!!! I was jusssssst about to visit, what…… uh…… you look rrrrrrough……

[Death’s sake, he looked like he’d just survived a tornado. As they approached, they almost felt the need to pick him up and carry him back to the school, given the way his body trembled with exhaustion. For now, they look him over for injuries… he wasn’t visibly bleeding at least, he probably didn’t get attacked. Was he actually sick, and just forcing himself to venture out? They would hope not, but given how they knew his survival instincts were, they would not be surprised if that were the case.]

Okay, if it’ssssss important……

[As Artie turned, they followed close behind him, sniffing him, trying to discern whatever the issue was that had him in such a worn down shape… they could pick up the smell of someone new to them all over him, the smell of old milk and… baby formula. Their eye went wide at the implication, could it be??]

[carrying-coins]

‘S that bad? <he chuckles quietly. He’s really not all that sure what he looks like currently, he’d been too busy to check for himself.. whatever. He doesn’t care what he looks like, he’s got a plethora of better things to be doing.>

<At their agreement, he offers up a silent, rather strained grin, before turning and leading them back the way he’d initially come. He’s far slower now, his walking speed drastically reduced from where it had been prior to his injury. He struggles greatly to run, and he’s got no weapon, nor a will to fight- he shouldn’t be out at all, but he’s quite a determined thing, so that all becomes an afterthought. He’d made it out here fine, anyways, hadn’t he?>

<it takes them all of twenty or so minutes to reach the chain link fence bordering the school, most of which he’d spent in absolute silence. He trails along the exterior of the barrier, until he reaches a small hole, just wide enough to fit his body, which he tucks himself through with a small series of grunts. He could potentially go through the gate instead, but he’s not sure who’s meant to be guarding it today, and he’d rather not show up with Pink and risk catastrophe. He figures they can climb the fence, though with how thin they are, they may be able to squeeze through the way he’d just done. He moves out of the way, in any case, allowing them to make their way past the border between school grounds and the expanse of deteriorated landscape, prior to moving forward again.>

<he clings to the innermost section of the fence, hesitant to pass windows and raise alarm, though luckily many of such windows have their curtains drawn, to shield from the light of when daytime comes around. He only begins moving closer to the school, once he’s certain he’s approaching the right window. He may be able to bring them inside, if the window is unlocked, only he can’t remember if he’d left the latch down or not…>

<finally, he stands before the window of his room, leaning his face forward against the glass. The smell of whoever he’d been around is far stronger now, along with the scent of somebody else entirely. Upon viewing, the sight of a teenager, perhaps sixteen, or seventeen, cradling an infant no older than six months greets the pair. Both are asleep, which comes as a shock to Artie, though a relief, considering how violent of a tantrum she’d thrown when he passed her off on Nemoy. He turns to pink anxiously, attempting to gauge their reaction before speaking.>

That’s- ah… she’s my-…. I don’t know. I call her a “her”, y’know, but I’ve not really got any idea what she is, actually.. an’ she’s not really my “daughter”, or anythin’, but—….. anyway, that’s Ettie— ah.. Amorette.

<he stands before them, awkward in posture, afraid to say more, until he gets some confirmation that they aren’t angry with him, or violent towards her.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Sssssure is, kid!!!!!!

[They laughed, but Death’s name, they’d have their work cut out for him later… his hair looked matted all over again, not to mention the state of his clothes. He could borrow a coat while they washed them and stitched up some of those holes, they decided, it’d more than keep him covered at least.

Fortunately for now, Pink serves as a good enough deterrent for anyone who may want to threaten Artie, the scary dog that permits him to walk alone and unarmed through the dangerous night. No visitor would touch a visibly injured human being followed by a thing like Pink, few humans would dare approach something like them in the first place, let alone challenge them, and all that leaves is FEMA… which they were certainly hungry enough to have a solution for anyways.

They followed behind him at a somewhat consistent two metre distance, their clawed hands folded in the signature neurodivergent T.rex pose, though they unfurled at a glimpse of Ilya guarding the front gate in the distance. They shot a glare their way, but they did not leave to look for some sort of rematch, one they were certainly going to win at this rate. No, all they did was follow Artie past the fence, not daring to try fitting through the gap after him when climbing was an option. They had gotten very familiar with climbing since becoming a visitor, both out of necessity and because of their claws making the process far easier. Even now, their claws allowed them to grip the links of the fence with ease, allowing them to scale the fence with leopardlike speed. Just like a big cat as well, they landed on their feet next to him with a heavy thud, the muffled jingle of jewelry ringing out from their many pockets.

As the two of them finally approach the window of Artie’s room, their breathing grows rapid, as they try to figure out by scent if their theory about who this new person is might be true, and though they did not want to get their hopes up, no other explanation would make sense. As much as they tried to keep themselves from fixating too hard on their idea of what might await them, their excitement was tangible in the flexing of their claws and rushed pace.

Only for their theory to be proven exactly right. Artie’s a father, and they’re a… grandfather? Grandmother? …Grandparent, they suppose. They immediately drop to their knees, pressing the beak of the mask against the glass, eye locked onto Amorette, all in an attempt to get a better look at her without opening the window. No, they would hate for the teenager, and especially for her, to wake up to a sight like them.

They remember now from their human life that they had always loved kids and always wanted children of their own, they remember vaguely the baby dolls they played with as a child, visiting adoption agencies, fantasizing about having a family, their own blood or otherwise… all of those memories came flooding back to them at the sight of her, the first baby they had seen since their death, since the cataclysm.

Her little face, her tiny eyelashes, her soft little head of hair, her itty bitty fingers and toes, Death’s name, she was adorable, she was perfect. Amorette, little love, that’s exactly what Pink saw when they looked at her, their granddaughter. They wouldn’t have named her any differently.]

Amorrrrrrette…… why didn’t you tell me about my granddaughter ssssssooner??????

[They spoke with about as much love in their voice as such a monstrous thing like them could manage, any other thoughts and emotions they may have felt washed away by overpowering affection as they looked upon her… well, all but one. The thought that Artie didn’t know what she might be… something long tucked away in the depths of their mind stirred at the thought.]

[carrying-coins]

<he sighs, relieved at their response. He hadn’t been sure how to tell, them or whether or not he should tell them at all- they have the capabilities to kill her in an instant, and he’s had no mention of how they feel about babies at all, so it wasn’t exactly out of the realm of reality that they ate her or otherwise. He figured he trusts them enough not to do that, even if they did end up not liking her, though he couldn’t help but worry anyways. He’s been worried lots recently, and she is always the center of his anxiety. He’s more worried about her, than he’s ever been about himself in all his life.>

Well, ‘cause I couldn’t leave her alone, for one, an’ bringin’ her out here sounded like a shit idea…. Ah.. I wasn’t sure I was keepin’ her, anyway, so there wasn’t any point in tellin’ you if I was jus’ gonna get rid of her a week later..

<except now he’s afraid he’s too attached to hand her off… and unfortunately for him, vice versa. She’d practically imprinted on him, far too dependent to let him leave for more than a few hours. It was hell to give her to Nemoy. She has his jacket, in the hopes that a familiar object would help her calm down, and signify that he’d be back eventually. Though, of course, babies aren’t clever enough to really comprehend the notion of leaving and returning.>

<he runs one clammy-cold hand over his face, wiping it of exhaustion to the best of his abilities, before continuing on.>

I think I will keep her, now… I don’t know. I go back an’ forth.

<he huffs, exasperated. He didn’t ask for this baby. He doesn’t even know how to take care of one very well. Clearly, he’s getting better, because he’s had her for about a week now, and she’s still alive, but he’s not sure he’ll manage it that way forever. He hasn’t slept right in two days, for fear of rolling her over in his sleep, or her getting taken by a visitor, or somebody else with malicious intent. He can’t go outside anymore, unless somebody is watching her, and in fact, he can’t do anything he likes, unless she’s sleeping, which she doesn’t do often, because she’s busy crying or vomiting. Nobody else will take her, though. And she is a sweet thing, when she wants to be, and he’s afraid that he likes her now. He has other reasons, too, but they’re more convoluted, feelings mostly. Pride, and instinct, affection, and attachment, duty, and expectancy. He probably should’ve had a kid by now, in any case. His mother would’ve thought so.. carry on the bloodline or whatever. And she makes for a fine series of tasks, which makes him feel… useful, respectable. Not so much of a waste of oxygen, if he has somebody depending on him. He’s not sure these are very good reasons, but they’re the best he has now, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because nobody else will raise her in his place. Nobody wants a baby in the apocalypse.>

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

You talk about her like you found her on the side of the road…… she’ssssss not yours, then????? How in the world did you get a baby in times like thesssssse without it being your own blood?????? [At the thought, they got to work theorizing all the reasons she may have been left all alone… there was no world in which FEMA would have killed her parents and left her alive, and they aren’t sure they know of a visitor who would have killed her parents and not brought them back out of sheer guilt, so she must have been abandoned. Perhaps her parents suspected her to be a visitor, or maybe she was unwanted, or maybe they couldn’t care for her in the current situation? Those made some more sense, yet, they weren’t so sure they could imagine someone abandoning her as they stared through the window, the precious little thing!]

If it matters, I’d rather you keep her…… I can help you with her, you know…… I’m the one who raises most of the “baby” vissssssitors that we find, I think I’m ussssssed enough to parenting for it……

[While none of their true visitor colleagues officially gave them the job of making sure “baby” visitors, that is newly risen visitors, don’t get themselves killed while they figure out how to function… they hardly do their primary job in comparison to every last one of their coworkers, and when they aren’t spending all that time not working and getting attached to random humans, they may as well do something else productive. So, they parent newly “born” visitors instead, and though they hardly remember anything about their human life, they figure it can’t be THAT different from raising human babies. Feed them, clean them, keep them uninjured, and love them, that’s all it really takes, if Artie and their countless visitor “children” are anything to go off.

Wait… Artie said he wasn’t so sure what she was, neither a girl or boy, and knowing she was certainly abandoned by whoever her parents must have been… their instincts may be right. She might be a monster too. Death’s sake, even within a family lacking any blood relation, they couldn’t help but end up with something as deformed as them as their granddaughter, they couldn’t help but curse another child to end up wrong by their wholly awful presence, in the same way they’d crippled Artie as a result of their horrible nature alone. Especially now that Orlov wasn’t around to fix either of them, surely he was too old now to still be around, if he had managed to survive the cataclysm at that.

They looked to Amorette again with a poorly masked self hatred in their expression… sorry, little love, for how they ruined you.]

[carrying-coins]

ha- no, she ain’t mine. Who’d I have knocked up? I don’t sleep around that much, Pink. Why, does she look like me? <there’s an incredibly minuscule, though still distinctly noticeable tone to his voice, a quiet bit of hope entangled in his inflection. Does he want her to look like him? At this stage, she nearly does, though once she grows older, the resemblance will likely begin to taper. Currently, with her ever so slightly curly hair, her pale skin and- though pink can’t see them- her brown eyes, she does bear some similarity to her adoptive father. He blinks at the window, after a moment, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. Right, he has to tell Pink how he got her… he turns, sinking to the floor, so his head rests just below the window, his back to the wall of the school.>

I was.. Ah…. I was.. walkin’, an’ I saw this heap- figured it was bodies, so I came over- jus’ tryin’ t’ see if they dropped anythin’ I could take, without diggin’ too much, y’know… anyway, it was this er- couple. I don’t know what got ‘em, maybe a visitor? Coulda also jus’ been regular people though, with how things are goin’. Somethin’ fucked up- their heads— w-……

<he shakes his head, a small gagging noise following the gesture. Even thinking about it now makes him sick.>

……Ah.. Amor- Amorette wasn’t too far off. She wasn’t even cryin’.. jus’ reached for me like I was her mama all along?? …I’m not really sure what sadistic fuck’d do.. that t’ the parents an’ then jus’ leave her, but I couldn’t… I mean, she was gonna burn up…..

<he trails off, hands splayed out on either side of him, helpless in both expression and in body language. What was he meant to do? He turns to them, now that his story’s concluded, as if in search of an answer, something to make sense of and justify the whole situation. Or advice… anything. He’d take anything he could get his hands on. He wonders momentarily if Pink ate the corpses of her parents, if the headless couple were familiar to the insides of their mouths. Some morbidly symbolic cycle, an odd ritual. Maybe they’ve got her genetics stuck to their teeth. He shakes his head out, dismissing the thoughts quickly.>

I… I jus’ don’t know that I’m cut out t’ be a m- dad. I’m gonna fuck her up, an’ she’s gonna piss me off- why- why do it if nobody’s happy? I can barely get myself around, how the hell am I meant t’ get another needier person around??

<he touches his face again, overhearing as an odd contrast to his typical internal temperature. Fuck, maybe she passed her fever on. This is wildly inconvenient. He exhales tiredly, chin mounting the knee of his better leg as he considers his options for the hundredth time.>

..I guess I’ll keep her. ‘S not like anybody else’ll take her, anyway.. I jus’ need… help. I don’t think either of us’ll make it if I don’t have somebody else watchin’ her a few times a week- even once a week!

<he chuckles, but there is a very serious undertone to his voice. He really won’t survive without an occasional break, which he can’t have unless somebody else is caring for her. Even once a week sounds like bliss.>

Would you? Would Pearl mind that, or…?

<he sighs, relieved. Thank god for pink. He only worries about what their partner may do, should she discover Amorette in the arms of Pink.>

<he watches them for a response, only just barely capable to catch the pained expression beneath their mask. Had he said something wrong? Are they lying, for the sake of not hurting his feelings- should he have left her out there, all alone? Did he make another imbecilic decision? He holds the fabric of his shirt very tightly in one hand, worried, analyzing their face for further explanation.>

Did- ‘s somethin’ wrong? Are you okay?

[feathers-sticks-and-bones]

Well, she’ssssss got curly hair, and I think I’ve smelled at least 4 different people all over you by now, it’s not out of the question that she’s yourssssss!!!!!!

[They laughed, though seeing Artie suddenly looking not so amused quiets them quickly… they follow him down to the burnt grass as he sinks, letting out a groan in the process. They had been remarkably healthy for their age as a human, eating well and exercising regularly, but their age was not as invisible now that they weren’t feeding themselves much at all, despite what strength their new body gave them. They listened silently, sympathy in their widened eye, as Artie recounted the state in which he’d found Amorette and her parents.]

Merde, I…… I have no idea what could have done that…… there’s not really many of ussssss that go for the head, and I don’t think any of them would kill a couple, not eat them, and leave their kid to die…… and FEMA usually goes for gunssssss over anything more disfiguring……

[They tried to recount too if they’d come across the scene themselves, if they in fact might have eaten her parents’ remains. They could be certain that they weren’t responsible for their deaths, they would never have intentionally killed two individuals, certainly not a couple with a baby, and they would never kill without the intention to eat… but they also couldn’t recall coming across two nearly headless bodies either. Some other visitor must have eaten them first, they figured.

They paused for a moment as Artie went over his struggles with parenting, considering what to say for a moment before speaking. They knew the struggles of parenting well, especially since they functionally adopted him, but it wasn’t an easy thing to explain why they were still trying their best, despite being terrible enough to permanently disable him… they don’t think they’ll ever forgive themselves for that, even if they’ve managed to otherwise be good enough to earn forgiveness from Artie.]

Well, I don’t know how helpful this might be to you, but I know well by now that I’m not cut out to be a visitor. My one job is to eat people, and the consequence is slow, horrible sssssstarvation if I don’t, and yet I sssssspend my time teaching you how to make jewelry instead, because the guilt of what I have to do is overwhelming…… but, y’know, if I just gave up day one, I’d have never met you, or Pearl, or the Therapisssssst, anyone who’s important to me now……

[As they spoke, they slowly curled one arm around Artie’s shoulders, encouraging him to put his weight against their side, or bury his face in the fur of their jackets, as he often liked to do. With their other hand, they rummaged around in one of their pockets briefly, before presenting his now soldered first ring, ever so carefully slipping it onto his index finger. They paused to look down at his work once more with pride.]

Sssssso, you might figure things out, and she might turn out as fine as anyone can be in times like these, but even if you end up the worst father in the world, like how I’m certainly the single worst visitor out there…… it’ll still be worthwhile to keep trying.…… You’ll get ssssssomething out of it eventually……

[As for covering Artie when it comes to taking care of Amorette… really nothing sounds better to them than spending time with her, assuming she can tolerate looking at a thing like them. They would imagine she would get used to them, as her father had before, but only time would tell. They would have to do something about those claws of theirs too, in order to not risk hurting her, despite how careful they are, babies don’t have the same instincts that Artie might when it comes to not touching the sharp points. Death’s name, they weren’t looking forward to that.]

I can definitely do a few times a week, I don’t think she’ll mind as long as I keep my mouth shut about it…… she’ssssss not a fan of babies, for good reason, but she’s not been inclined to come here ssssssince the whole Ilya incident, sssssso I’m not sure she’ll even care……

[Well, she had been wanting to come back to the school, but for the sole purpose of ripping Ilya limb from limb for what they’d done… something Pink has been trying, and slowly failing, to keep her from doing… they can’t say they feel much more kindly towards that pond scum in yellow, or nor can they say they wouldn’t find any joy in pulling their teeth out one by one, but they knew killing them would only get them in more trouble. They’ve probably learned their lesson fine enough from the burns Pink had given them, too, but the trouble is convincing Pearl of any of that.]

Oh, no I’m okay…… just worried about whatever happened to her parents…… whoever’d do that……