[There is a knock on a doorframe. A familiar voice follows.]
Otto, my friend?
- @puzzles-pieces
[Relief, and then dread, guilt, anxiety, and still more guilt for feeling this way about the prospect of seeing her- his- her old friend. Otto re-situates the blanket over her shoulders as she pushes herself upright on trembling arms, pulling her socked feet in and ensuring her clothing is covered.]
[She does not expect hostility, and is working to expect nothing at all, to allow her friend his reactions alone instead of tainting them with her anticipations, butā¦ Regardless of how he may respond, this is private, still. This is new. She would rather be the one to tell him than allow him the time and observation to learn for himself.]
[The man steps into the room, dress shoes clicking softly on the floor. As he comes into view, he pauses.]
You look well.
[In stark contrast, he does not. Since the last time the Puzzler was here, he seems to have hollowed out. Sharper cheekbones and tired eyes that bear the weight of sleepless nights, hair that falls well past the tops of his shoulders and is pulled into a low ponytail.]
Your... hair is different. The braid. I like it.
[His speech, though formal as usual, is stilted. There's an air of uncertainty around him as he takes cursory glances around the space.]
[Otto looks him over with overt concern, taking in the pull of exhaustion below his eyes, how it weighs upon his shoulders. Her memory of the last time he was here has grown hazy with time, but she is certain he was healthier than this.]
[Despite the spark of irritation that lights inside her at the realization of how long it has been, she worries.]
"Thank you."
[Her hand comes up without thinking to touch her braid, and her fingers only faintly tremble as she turns her wrist to brush her hair forward over her shoulder. Her voice is much stronger than it used to be, and each inhale no longer drags audibly down her throat and into unwilling lungs. Somehow, in the last two years, her health has improved considerably after decades of slow, steady deterioration.]
"So is yours."
[...She, too, is uncertain. She does not know how to respond to his presence. It is an uncomfortable observation to make, settling uneasy within her. Jeremy was, for a very long time, the closest friend she had, and now she finds herself startled and confused at his visits. She does not know him well enough to greet him.]
[The feeling is comparable to grief, albeit a confusing form of it, considering he's standing here in front of her.]
"Why are you here?"
[The question elicits a soft sigh. Jeremy watches as Otto brushes the braid forward. The ghost of a smile settles on his face at the sight of his friend. Once, the face in front of him was familiar. That's comfort enough for him.]
I figured a visit was long overdue. I... promised that I would visit you more frequently.
[A pause, in which Jeremy brings one hand up to rub at the back of his neck. There is a seam there, mostly hidden by his hair.]
I did not... follow through on that promise. I'm sorry. A mere apology is hardly enough to make up for it, but I hope that my presence can... at least stand to show that I mean it.
[Otto's chest rises and falls in a similar sigh. She takes his apology for what it is, holding it alongside her anxiety, her resentment, her bitterness and love and everything else she feels when she looks at him. He is right. It is not enough. Still, it is appreciated, and she has proven herself to be forgiving of betrayals nearly as painful as this. In time, perhaps.]
[The assumption that he will allow her that time is a dangerous thing, and with regret, she sets it aside.]
"...We will see. You're here now, any how. Come sit with me."
[The worry that she overstepped with her request, that she should perhaps have phrased it as a question, is dark and heavy with that almost-grief. Momentarily distracted, she notes that she has grown more inclined to a storyteller's language in her own mind, and does not have to wonder why.]
[It is saddening, that she should have to be so tentative around Jeremy. It will take time to adjust.]
[Jeremy hesitates for only the barest moment before crossing the room, pace not quite a run, but faster than a walk. He drops to a kneel next to Otto; perhaps too hard, as a crack sounds as his knees hit the floor. He grimaces.]
That... sounded worse than it was.
[He shakes it off quickly, face returning to more of a neutral. There's some attempt at a smile, but at this proximity, it's overshadowed by a weighty melancholy that doesn't have a clear source.]
You seem more comfortable than the last time I was here. I'm glad for that. Have you ha-
[His voice catches over the word and he clears his throat before trying again.]
Have you had assistance from the Anons? Normally I would not speak of them so freely, but...
[A vague gesture at the items scattered around the room intersects his words.]
...these items appear to be the mark of them.
[Despite her own inner conflict, Otto's thin lips pull into a faint smile at how willingly he goes to her.]
"Them, and others."
[She's intentionally vague about those others; Eight, and Daisy, and the Author, and the anon-who-is-not. She will not deny them the acknowledgement of their existence, nor the spaces they rest in her memories, but she knows better than to share their names to someone who may seek them out. One exists only when she wishes to, two to harm him if he finds them, and the last... She truly doesn't know where, or whether, Daisy is now. In the case that he knows no more than she, it is likely for the best that he remain oblivious as well.]
[She doesn't like to think of him this way.]
[It has been such a long time since she didn't know she had to.]
"They are quite fond of me. The anons."
[Otto steadies herself, acknowledging her fear and releasing it for the moment when it is needed. To draw out her secret would only cause her pain, and have no effect whatsoever on his response, and yet she cannot bring herself to be entirely forthcoming.]
"They call me grandmother."
[It only takes a moment for the sentence to process in Jeremy's mind, and then a smile forms on his face.]
It's a lovely title.
[He lets the words hang in the air for several seconds as he considers if he wants to come clean about his knowledge. Then he decides he does.]
An... Anon told me. About... [He gestures.] I would have preferred it to come from you, but it's no fault of yours that I didn't give you the chance to tell me.
[Finally, he looks at her.]
You don't have to hide from me. I understand why you might want to, but... know that you do not have to.
[Otto shakes her head, slow and careful, leaning forward far enough to stretch out an arm, rest a hand on his knee. The blanket pools around her waist as she does so. Her expression is softer now than it has been since before he entered the room.]
"I never want to hide any thing from you."
[She swallows the 'you should know that.' It would be... Unkind. Besides that, it has been long enough that she should not presume anything of what he does or does not know.]
"Though, you're right. I do wish it had come from me, first."
[Jeremy's expression softens as well as Otto's hand lands on his knee. He scoots sideways to get slightly closer to her, then rests one of his hands over hers.]
It's been a long time since we've seen each other... I don't mean physically, although it has been a long time for that, as well.
[He sighs again, searching for the wording he needs.]
I mean to truly see each other. Neither of us has been... ourselves for quite some time.
[His free hand comes up to brush against the scarring along his jaw.]
How long have you known?
[Otto looks down, and wonders at how much they have both changed. A slightly frayed uniform sleeve to her soft, stained sweater, and the tentativeness with which they approach each other. She supposes, to an observer, they would look close, but she remembers a time when this would have worried her; when she would have asked if something was wrong, for her friend to settle so far from her side that she could not rest against him.]
[She knows she would not welcome that closeness now, and the time when she would was so long ago, so brief in comparison to the decades she has known him, but still it feels unnatural not to have it.]
[Nostalgia is all well and good, but at this moment there is so much to reflect on that to allow herself enough time to parse through it all would end the conversation entirely. She has been silent for perhaps too long already. Long enough that she has to search her memory for Jeremy's question.]
"Not long. A year, may be less. When I last saw you... The thought had not yet crossed my mind."
[For a brief moment, Jeremy's posture tightens as if to move again. Then he relaxes, movement aborted before it could begin. He looks down at their hands, one layered over another, and wonders when they got so defined. The last time they held hands, youth softened both of their edges. Now their hands -- one the same, one of a renewed body -- bear the marks of age. A frayed wire pokes out of the end of his sleeve.]
[The reminder of just how long it has been stings. He's sure she doesn't mean it, but the jab goes straight to his heart -- how long has he been gone, that such self discovery could have taken place in his absence?]
Thank you. For sharing this with me.
[A moment passes, and he opens his mouth as if to add something else, then closes it again.]
I am... glad that the Anons have been keeping you company. The solitude down here... it cannot be easy to bear. Did they help you discover this about yourself?
"They seemed to know, well before I did. My title pre-ceded all of... This."
[She dips her head in acknowledgement of his thanks, but does not reply to it directly, focusing instead on his next question. Her free hand goes back to her braid, touching lightly on the strip of fabric tied to its end. Otto knows herself as close to completely as she can, but this alone does not always grant her the language to describe herself aloud.]
"Outside of my self, and what you have seen, little has changed here."
[Otto is glad for the chance to speak to him again, but there is so little she can say that would not sound utterly unbelievable even to one who has seen as much as Jeremy must have. She has been physically transformed into a semi-aquatic animal for a handful of deeply confusing minutes. She has held friendly conversation with a lovely young woman living outside Showfall's control. She has held her own living soul in her hands as it tied itself into knots under the watchful gaze of a godlike entity, and has laid helpless as that entity was made to bleed by a raging, unaging child.]
[Or perhaps she can stop dredging up the most fantastical of the events that have occurred around her in recent times, and admit to herself that at this moment she would much rather hear him speak than tell her own stories. Regardless of how appealing they may be, lies have never quite become her, and are doubly pointless when she is the only one to hear them.]
"Would you tell me...
"Is there any thing you can tell me of where-ever you have been?"
[His mouth pulls into a slight, contemplative frown at the question. Flickers of memories cross his mind as he struggles to dredge up any details from the last year. For the most part, it has been a matter of survival, and specifics elude him.]
I have been working behind the scenes for the most part. Showfall has... fallen into something of disrepair over the last years, and I...
[A sigh breaks the sentence, something melancholy.]
I've been doing my best to look after things. The actors, the Drones, the property...
[He twitches, a faint buzzing sound starting to become audible.]
It's quiet up there these days. There has not been a production in quite some time, nor are there very many prescribed duties.
[As he trails off, his hand tightens slightly around Otto's. He, too, is trembling.]
"And so you main-tain it your self."
[An old, resigned irritation halfheartedly raises its head. Even now, he cares for Showfall, working to keep it from collapse. Whether what he wishes to preserve are the ideals and hopes he held for it or the people trapped inside... He will likely die before he turns his back on this cursed place.]
[Otto knows she will not change him, nor, truthfully, does she wish to. As much as he frustrates her, he is very dear to her. To make him into something perfectly agreeable would be to alter his character so drastically that she would no longer know him at all, and she would much rather take him as he is than lose him entirely.]
[In this way, she supposes her two companions are alike.]
[She does her best to return the pressure, though her grip is weak and does not last more than a minute.]
"This place has been dying for a long time, now. How much longer, do you think it will last?"