Over the course of a few short minutes, three things happen
at roughly the same time.
ad1ostoreador: iF TALKING TO THE DENIZENS IS POSSIBLE, tHAT IS WHAT i WOULD, uH, rECOMMEND,, tHEY ARE ACTUALLY ON THE SIDE OF YOU ALL LIVING AND LEARNING, eVEN IF THEY DON'T SEEM LIKE IT AT FIRST,
ad1ostoreador: jUST, uM,, tHE CHOICES THEY GIVE, aRE NEVER NOT HARD,,, tHEY HELP, bUT THEY WILL BE THE HARDEST CHOICE YOU'VE EVER HAD TO MAKE,
dignaeris: You're the only card that's alone. But you're a card of strength, craftsmanship, and excellence.
dignaeris: A card of community, as well.
dignaeris: That's about all I've got.
malleablepersonage: I will do whatever you think will help.
You can feel your planet’s melodies reverberating in your skull.
Sollux hasn’t returned yet.
It makes sense.
The first building block you knew of: Kris. The multiverse brought you to him, or him to you, or both, and you found he could manipulate other sessions. You found he could restore missing gates, the glaring evidence of a dead session, effectively reviving it, just like you had been. In your resurrection, so too could you serve a purpose, resurrecting your own game.
Gamzee instilled heavy skepticism in you, which pushed back your eagerness to confide in your own doom player or team leader regarding the development. You wanted more answers. You found them over the past few nights, speaking to other players whose sessions the Lord of Doom had interfered with, repaired, manipulated. It had been exhausting, involved long mornings of interrogating, but it was what you needed. It filled the time between the initial realization of the opportunity Kris provided, offered certainty, and let the role emerge that you needed to know you were supposed to play.
Tavros told you he had been given the choice to singlehandedly free his session, and you’ve felt that responsibility since you could feel a beating heart in your flesh chest again.
You’re pacing quietly as you think it through. Droog’s cards had been quite clear: everyone else torn, confused, chasing light, chasing legacies, running from darkness, running from guilt, and there you and your card stood. Solitary, alone, even if for the best of your own community.
And Kris had been just as clear.
That brings you to now. Tavros’ story, Droog’s cards, and Kris’ offer.
You realize you don’t need the Lord of Doom to restore all the gates in your game to keep the game alive. He can restore just the ones that will take you to your denizen, and given the circumstances, that could be enough.
Suddenly it feels like the sweeps trapped in your soulbot served a purpose, too. It estranged you for a reason, it drove a wedge between you and your friends, it forced every one of them to move on, however hard their hearts may have fought it, however hard their hearts may still fight it.
Whatever had found itself corrupted in the soul of the game paralleled what had been corrupted in you. You have to fix it. That’s why it was you, no one else, that found Kris, that’s why it was you alone in the cards, that’s why the hope for the session was reborn with the return of your motivation and agency. Your friends brought you back to life, so it’s your turn to advance this plot. This is your sacrifice to make.
...
You wonder, as you slide down the side of your crumbled hive to sit in the grass, if your choice would be so kind as Tavros’ was -- as it’s easy for you to see it as, since it was never designed for you. You would guess not, because if you were ever asked to save the session or stay with your friends, you wouldn’t need so much as the tick of a clock’s second hand to make the call.
You’re sure your offer’s alternative to whatever could save your friends will entail something much more enticing.
The opportunity to see your lusus again, maybe. A happy life with Sollux, far away from judging eyes, hidden in the dream bubbles, something you know he’d prefer to whatever it is you’re determined to do instead. The chance at a reset or do-over, the chance to stop your death from ever happening, even if it could mean the timeline is doomed as a result. Perhaps the chance to die, and to truly die, for it all to be over and to forfeit the weight of the responsibilities you’ve carried your whole life entirely.
It takes every ounce of your strength not to put the plan into motion immediately.
It’s tempting. You’re determined, or perpetually suicidal, or both, eager for martyrdom, eager for a climax to the knowledge you’ve shouldered for the entirety of your existence. But you promised Sollux you wouldn’t do anything without talking to him first, so all that’s left to do is wait, to steel yourself, and to prepare yourself not to be talked out of it. He won’t like it, and he’ll fight you on it, but it all seems so obvious to you, so you’ll remind yourself that until he comes back. It might offer you some sort of defense to whatever emotional appeal to your pusher he’ll try to make to dissuade you.
malleablepersonage: that is a very well-reasoned explanation
malleablepersonage: let me know when you'd like me to wiggle my nose and work the magic
Your eyes flicker back down to your palmhusk, and at seeing Kris’ confirmation that your plan might work, you just set it aside.
Maybe, just maybe, Sollux will understand, and at the end of all this, you could get the peace of knowing you perished into the void for your friends to have a second chance at lives outside of this hellish game.
“that’s the spirit” i say as i gesture to the spirit that’s been haunting my home for years. when will they leave or start contributing to the household by doing something like helping with laundry. when will they pay rent
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