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The last time the Host had tried to enter Siren’s mind, to put it simply, he hadn’t. He wasn’t just blocked from entering the man’s mind, he was repelled. This time around there’s no resistance, though it would be naive to say he was ‘granted access’.
The room is small with cold, grey walls, and no furniture. One side of the room has a third blank wall. It feels as though there should be a door there but there’s nothing. The other side of the room, the one from which the Host has stepped, is swallowed by darkness.
In the middle of the room stand two men. One is bruised, beaten, angered and clearly the Author. In his way, stands a stranger,
A brown vest waistcoat with lines and diamonds is buttoned over a loose yellow shirt. The shirt’s neckline is low, held together by string. His pants are dark, and tucked into knee-high brown leather boots. An old leather belt hangs around his waist but only holds a hilt with no blade.
It’s almost like an outfit someone might wear to a renaissance fair, with the exception that everything is much older. Every piece of clothing is worn. It’s sliced, and dirty and is obviously a long time from when it was first worn. The worst offender is the purple cape loosely hanging from his shoulders. Even from here, you can see the holes and where it’s been singed.
He looks like the Phantom and Mare, but also not. He’s older, unshaven – less than a beard, more than a five o’clock shadow – and his hair is several inches longer, stopping just shy of his shoulders.
Then there’s the look on his face. It’s the kind of look you don’t see on a whole lot of faces, one that betrays the bone-crushing numbness that flows beneath the surface. The kind of look that you don’t just have on your face for no reason.
“All I want is to be left alone.” His voice is weary and worn, though not from lack of sleep. It’s not that he’s just tired. If it were, he would never be able to hold himself with such strength.
The Author growls. It doesn’t appear that they’re actually in Siren’s mind here, more hanging at the fringes. This man must be Siren’s last mental line of defence. Curious.
As the Host steps forward, the strange man glances over the Author’s shoulder towards him before turning back.
“You will get only one warning.”
“You think you can stop m-!” The words die on Author’s lips, his eyes going wide. The hilt from the stranger’s belt is now held in his hand, the blade that’s grown from it is plunged into the Author’s stomach.
There’s no blood as it’s not an actual blade, but instead a blade of pure light. In the outer world it would probably kill him, but in here, it’s just enough to stop the Author in his tracks. He’s not going anywhere.
Again the stranger looks to the Host who nods. He understands.
The Host steps forward, placing a hand on the Author’s shoulder. He can’t go anywhere. Not this time.
How many times has he run from this? How many times has he made excuses? Lady Fate is right, he can’t pretend any more. This here, it’s been a long time coming.
Author. Host. The name doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. Both of them, all of it, all that’s happened, is him.
It’s all him.
“I did this.” Julien finally admits. Not to the stranger, not to ‘the Author’, but to himself. “I did all of this.”
The Author glows, morphing and changing, slowly being reabsorbed into Julien, the pain, the hate, all of it. When the air clears, there’s only two men stood in the room. Julien and the stranger. The Author is where he should have been all this time.
The stranger returns his bladeless hilt to his belt, nods to the Host and turns, seeming to leave, though there is no apparent exit. There are several questions on the tip of the Host’s tongue, but before he can ask them, the stranger stops and turns.
More than tired, he looks defeated.
“Tell Remus to go home,” he says before raising his hand and forcing the Host out.
Remember I got an incredibly dumb drawing idea based off of Darks masterplan? Step One: Lure Markiplier to the museum...Step Two: TADA!! All that plotting and scheming comes down to this moment... whose side are YOU on?!
I included thumbnails since this was a rather large piece... please click and zoom for details!
((Sorry this is so very messy, I just wanted to be done in time for something for a change!!😅))
TW: small amount of blood and vague eye squickiness - it’s the Host
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There’s a widely held belief that if you are strong-willed and stubborn enough that you are practically impregnable to a mental attack. Something about it giving you natural psychic defences. It isn’t true. The mind is a curious and fragile thing, no matter how pig-headed you are.
Your mind is a very personal experience. It’s your space moulded to your needs by your past, your thoughts, your hopes, and your dreams. It exists in a very delicate balance that never truly sits straight. It’s constantly moving, even without outside input.
Psychics essentially have a master key to enter these spaces. The ability varies from person to person and emotions factor heavily into the equation which really doesn’t play in their favor.
Julien is supposed to be the strongest psychic in existence, chosen many years ago by the Universe to act as the Deity of the Mind. A duty that he’s never actually performed. As the Author he was too arrogant, believed it to be beneath him, and since he became the Host, he wishes he’d never been chosen. The Universe, however, is not one to be ignored and Julien doesn’t believe it to be a coincidence what his job in Phantom’s plan is.
The moment all the others have left, the team remaining at the warehouse is already preparing for their part.
Siren is sat on the floor, leaning back against Yancy who’s sat behind him. To one side sits Phantom, leaning back against JJ. On the other side sits Natemare, leaning back against Green, the only one of them that Mad trusted to leave the spirit with. Illinois and Remus both stand behind the Host who stands in front of Siren.
“Close you eyes.”
The boys close their eyes.
“Feel the connection between you,” he tells them, “feel how it connects the five of you. Imagine it as a rope and wrap your hand around it. Tug on it.”
Mare, Siren, and Phantom all wince but keep their eyes closed.
“This is your lifeline. Trust it, but only use it if you have to.” The Host drops to his knees in front of Siren before looking to those holding the boys “Close your eyes.” They look at him in confusion but eventually, Green, Yancy, and JJ also close their eyes.
With a smirk, the Host turns slightly, looking to Illinois and Remus who are stood a short way away. Illinois figures out pretty quickly, closing his eyes, while Remus continues to watch with a manic grin, apparently beyond fascinated at what’s happening. Thankfully Illinois knows him well enough to force him to turn around. Remus sighs, upset.
It’s with shaking hands that Julien reaches to his bandages. It’s been such a long time since he last took them off himself, he’s half expecting to have forgotten how to do it. No, it’s just like every other time, and like every other time a slow sickening pit is growing in his stomach. Nothing good has ever happened when he’s removed his bandages. Things go wrong. Problem is, this is a do or die situation. Either he does, or his family, and probably a bunch of other people, will die.
The bandages drop silently to the floor, and everyone’s eyes are closed, so no one sees the black holes weeping blood as he reaches forward and places a hand on Siren’s cheek, making the boy jump.
“Siren, I’m sorry,” he says as calmly as he can, gently guiding Siren’s hand to his own cheek. The boy is still a blank to him, unable to see even a thought. This is their only chance, “If there was any other way, I swear I wouldn’t do this to you. But I need you to look into my eyes.”
There’s hesitation but Siren slowly opens his eyes.
In the moment he sees into those gaping black pits, a jolt of panic and despair overcome him as the blackness consumes everything else around him. He’s falling, falling, falling through a terrifying unending chasm of blackness, no other person in sight. The warehouse is gone, the others are gone, all he can feel is falling, and a faint tingle of someone’s hand on his cheek.
Julien watches Siren immediately pass out. It was the only way, he tells himself, as both Mare and Phantom go limp beside the singer. He grabs for his bandage, hastily tying the dirty thing around his eyes as he stands. He turns before anyone else can see. Now they’re in his and the Author’s mind.
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One of the Jims is sprawled across Dr Iplier’s legs, while the other is curled up against the doc’s chest, an arm wrapped around him. They tend to gravitate towards whomever they feel is the most capable of protecting them, though the Host doubts it’s a conscious selection. They’ve made a good choice this time around. The doctor will keep them safe.
In the far corner, the Googles are clustered together. Oliver’s head is in the blue Google’s lap, while Green leans against his shoulder. Google’s fingers are gently curled in Oliver’s hair, his other hand gently placed on Oliver’s shoulder. Red is nearby, not as close as the others but his hand is clenched ready to defend should a threat appear. Their eyes are closed, all of them on standby in an attempt to preserve battery. The Googles have a handle of their brother’s condition but they are far from out of the woods.
Ed is snoring up a storm, laid out on the floor, back turned to the rest of the room. He seems to be taking the chaos of the last few days rather in his stride, but then again, Ed has always been a weirdo who more than earned his place at the table in the meetings. Even so, as the token human of the group there should surely be something getting to him.
King of the Squirrels and Chase are not too far from each other. The two of them seem to be growing closer since their stint in the building. It’s nothing right now, but there’s a future where it blooms, and another where it’s choked until it dies, and unfortunately the Host can’t speak for which one he’s hoping for. After all, a victory, however small, would be nice in this hellhole.
Though the room about him is filled with unconscious thoughts, and a large amount of hatred directed towards him, the Host’s mind is more preoccupied with the chaos happening in the next room. He’s born witness to it all, sat in silence on the floor,. When Jackson comes back with Phantom in his arms, laying the boy down, the Host leaps to his feet and now he just stands. In the dark. In the silence. Almost completely alone.
Almost.
“Please don’t take him.”
His voice is quiet as he speaks to the darkness beside him. Though it takes a human form, the Host only sees a writhing mass of blackness wrapped around a core of pure white light. Delicately balanced, perpetually in motion, staying in place but far from still.
“I’m not here for Phantom.” comes the response.
The voice is feminine, and the Host knows that her human form is just as he remembers it. Slim face, shoulder length wavy brown hair, draped in light and airy robes that billow about her even though there isn’t a breath of wind. Oddly light on her feet, the ground is undisturbed as she passes over it. Both human and inhuman. Her presence has always defied logic but seeing her now, the Host realises how much he and the others truly underestimated her.
“But he’s-”
“Phantom is more than what you made of him. Not even you could erase that.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To catch up with an old friend.”
“Dark and Wilford are in there.” Half-turning, the Host gestures towards the chaos of the next room. The two idiots are sat close, Marvin and Bim hovering nearby. Chances are they won’t be going anywhere any time soon, and both of them would be delighted to see her after so long. A gentle hand on his cheek makes him jump, the fingers guiding him to turn and look directly at her.
“I’m here to see you,” she teases, her fingers brushing against his cheek as she lowers her hand to take his again. “I thought you could use a friend.”
Friend. It would be nice to have one of those. He’s turned all his other supposed friends against him. Even Dr Iplier is avoiding him, which is fine, he can’t force the doc’s hand. No, better that the doctor be prepared for the imminent patient in the other room. Let him rest for now.
“I want to help him.” The facade of the third person is dropped. She hates when he refers to himself that way and frankly, he knows he is safe with her here. The Host glances towards the chaos.
Phantom was originally just an experiment, intended to push the limits of his powers, to see if he could, in fact, create a being. Someone who could walk amongst other living beings and serve a purpose, a function. Phantom was supposed to be the epitome of his greatest achievement and that’s how he remembered the boy being. Smart, covert, able to turn any situation to their advantage, he’d had such high hopes for the dealmaker.
“You shouldn’t.”
“I can fix him!”
“You can reset him.” her tone is firm. “And you’re the one who did this to him.”
“The Author-”
“You are the Author. You may have learned wisdom and humility, Julien, but you are every bit the stubborn ass of a man that you’ve always been. This Author is just an echo of you at your most dangerous.”
And isn’t that the truth?
For all his attempts to leave that part of him behind, Julien has clung to who he used to be like a life preserver. He made the bat, infused it with his power mere days after Mark betrayed him. After his closest friend, a man he basically considered a brother, used him to resurrect a woman who died years ago, who probably didn’t even love him in the end. Why else would she have tried to run off with Wilford?
Making the bat was a mistake, a desperate attempt by a scared, lonely little man to maintain some poor excuse of control his life. With the bat he didn’t have to deal with Mark, he didn’t have to handle it. Someone else could, someone with the same abilities as him. It would keep him safe….but he never once thought of what it would cost. No matter his reasoning, he should have known nothing but pain and heartbreak could come from facing Mark again.
Despite what the others might see, the Host never meant for anyone to get hurt. He never meant for them to be torn to shreds, their family scattered to the wind. They’ll never believe that though, after all he’s the guy who can ‘see the future’. Except it’s not as simple as that.
“Will Phantom be okay?” His grip on the Lady’s fingers tightens and she gives a reassuring squeeze in return.
“There are bigger plans in motion for him.” She speaks with the confidence that only a Existential Being can wield. The kind of confidence that arrogant a-holes like Julien could never even dream of knowing. He feels her lips quirk in a slight smirk. “Call it Fate.”
He chuckles and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence, hands held in a gentle reassurance. It’s been years since last they met, but even now she exudes calm, grace, and control. Soon enough she’ll have to leave again;; the balance of life and death between all realms of existence can’t be left unwatched for long. However, for a moment, just one small moment, Lady Fate is able to remain. Julien is grateful for her companionship, but hates that, as always, she’s right.
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