Led Through The Mist

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[paperpines]

Lᴏsᴛ 

[paperpines]

    Doppelganger. That word sort of hit a sore spot for Tyrone, after all, he was one. He was something a lot of people regarded as a monster or something to fear, after all, clones were usually evil or mal-intended. He was seriously neither of those things, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare off a potential friend. After all, Tyrone didn’t really have any close friends in Hive City, just mere acquaintances. His only real friend (other than Dipper and Mabel) was Bill, and although the guy was nice, he was also really weird. Like, really weird. Bill wasn’t the type of guy he would ask to play video games with or chill or just do teenager things. Come to think of it, how old was Bill?

    That wasn’t important. What was important was making a good impression with Wirt, who seemed pretty nice despite being a nervous wreck. Or, at least he seemed like a nervous wreck. Not that Tyrone was one to talk.

    “My house? Oh my gosh, dude, no,” Tyrone laughs, “I just work here. I mean, yeah I live here too, but it’s not my house, you know? I live with my family, I’ve got a, uh, twin brother!” Yeah, that wasn’t a lie. After all, both him and Dipper had referred to each other as brothers on occasion. 

    “I’ve got a twin sister too. Wait, that makes us triplets, my bad.” He was totally blowing it.

    “And my great uncle lives here too. He’s a scientist.” Yeesh, he needed to stop talking before he sounded even more like an idiot. Every time he opened up his mouth he felt more and more awkward and, oh god, was he sweating?

[pushoverpoet-blog]

   "Whoa, triplets? And a scientist? Are they all home?" More friendly faces is never a bad thing. Wirt hopes they are as friendly as Tyrone. He has no desire to be kicked off the premises, especially since he finally managed to find someone who treated him kindly. "They'd be okay with me hanging around, right?"

   Though there was nothing extraordinary about the kitchen, Wirt recalls the oddities littering the Shack. In fact, he's fairly certain that the patch of mold on the wall beside him has been breathing. Or was that a whisper? With a shifty glance, he edges away from the fungus.

   Regardless, something seemed bizarre, even magical about the place, even in comparison to the rest of the city.

   His concern felt unfounded. One of his recent newfound friends was a talking bluebird.

  "So, what is this place?" Wirt asks, but quickly recalls that Tyrone's great uncle was a scientist. Did that mean he was one of the men running the city, like the one on the screen in the room he awoke in? Was this place all a ruse as well? Face paling, he clarifies, "B-but I mean. If it's confidential, that's okay, I don't want to pry."

[paperpines]

Lᴏsᴛ 

[paperpines]

    “I’m from America too. Piedmont,” but he paused and cleared his throat when he realized that wasn’t where he was from at all. That was where Dipper was from. “Oh, sorry, actually I’m from Gravity Falls, Oregon. I, uh, just moved before this whole crazy city business happened.” Another lie. How many lies would he have to tell this person? Biting his lower lip, Tyrone looks away and shrugs.

    “I don’t really know where we are. Maybe we’re on Earth, maybe we’re not. All I know is that the people in this city are from all sorts of places, planets, different universes even. We might be in some other dimension for all we know.” When a look of existential terror appeared on Wirt’s features, Tyrone nervously gestured in a way that told Wirt not to worry. Or to worry a lot. It was unclear.

    “I’m sure they’ll let us go eventually! I mean, people disappear all the time for like no reason at all.” Tyrone only realized how bad that sentence sounded after he had confidently verbalized it.

    “I mean, maybe they get to go home! Or not! I, uh, oh geez,” Tyrone slapped his forehead and groaned at his own stupidity, “I’ll do you a favor and shut up now.”

[pushoverpoet-blog]

   Despite Tyrone’s morbid ramblings, Wirt can’t help but feel a slight relief that they’re from the same place. Maybe they’d get along fairly well because of this sense of comradery. Maybe they could be friends.

   “Yeah... I could have sworn I glimpsed my brother here, but he - or a doppelganger - disappeared into the crowd before I could catch up. I hope he’s safe,” Wirt sighs. For once, he actually misses Greg as opposed to simply feeling responsible for him, but at the same time hoped he was in a nicer place than whatever Hell he was thrown into.

   Switching the subject to something a little more pleasant, he remarks, “Your house is nice. Do you live alone here? How long have you been here, anyways?”

[paperpines]

Lᴏsᴛ 

[paperpines]

 “Yeah, aquagenic whatever, right, that’s it,” he said, while making a very unconvincing, shifty gaze to the side. Of course this kid would be the one person in the universe that knew the actual name for a legitimate allergy to water. Luckily, Wirt bought his excuse, so that was all that really mattered to Tyrone. Telling strangers about the whole clone business was out of the question recently, it usually led to more problems than he liked to have.

    Tyrone nearly jumps out of his skin when Wirt clumsily trips, projecting the water forward across the kitchen. With a frantic look, he clutches onto his chest and takes a few deep breaths when the water merely pools inches in front of him instead of actually touching him. Tyrone tip-toes away from the water. If only Wirt knew how dastardly coming into contact with water truly was for him.    “Trust me, you would know if it got on me, dude,” Tyrone said, laughing nervously with a high-pitched crack in his voice. He wished he didn’t have to make Wirt clean up after him, but, coming into contact with any amount of water was bad news for Tyrone. If he even got damp he would start to warp away slowly rather than disintegrate, which was honestly more of a hassle to deal with than if he just straight up disintegrated.

   Tyrone really didn’t want to think about the details of how water affected his imperfect body, though.

    “Seriously don’t sweat it, man.” Retaking his position on a barstool, he nervously looks down at the frantic boy wiping away the mess. 

    “So, uh, where are you from? America? Or some place that isn’t Earth? There are plenty of people that aren’t from Earth in Hive City, I guess I shouldn’t assume.”

[pushoverpoet-blog]

   Wirt pauses his cleanup. "Not from Earth? Are you not from Earth? Are we not on Earth?" His voice edges on panic. Of course, it would definitely explain the oddities of the place, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to come to terms with it. Talking birds and spirits were one thing, but aliens? He was not in any state to deal with that.

   "I'm from America. Massachusetts, actually. And you?" He asks, praying the kid was at least from the same planet. That skin condition was awfully suspicious.

  After wiping down the mess, Wirt finally manages to take a seat with his water without spilling it again. This is the first time in days after which he was able to sit down for a moment without fearing for his life. Unless Tyrone was actually an evil extraterrestrial in disguise, but Wirt didn't wish to toy with that awful scenario. In fact, he found the kid's presence comforting. Finding a friend was a very welcome change.

[paperpines]

Lᴏsᴛ 

[paperpines]

    Wirt? That was a weird name. He had never met anyone named Wirt before, but eh, who was he to judge?

    Tyrone jerks his hand away from the brown-haired boy and laughs nervously, his voice crackling in distress. Nobody had even mentioned that he felt like paper before, but, it was totally true, wasn’t it? Right, right, okay. Rocky start. It was fine, he would just make up some excuse that would perfectly explain why his skin felt like paper instead of flesh. Clearing his throat, he coughs, sputtering a bit and pounding at his chest before he finally spat out a panicked response.

    “Weird skin? Uh, uh, it’s a condition I have. I have uh, nothing! It’s nothing! Just a rare condition with no name!” Mentally slapping himself for sounding like a bumbling idiot, he decided it would be best to drop the subject all together and lead Wirt inside. The Mystery Shack was old news to Tyrone, but was probably quite the site to behold for Wirt. Once they were in the kitchen, Tyrone grabs a glass out of a cabinet and then stops dead in his tracks when he realized the teen wanted a beverage.

    Right. Tyrone wasn’t the best of friends with liquids.

    Cheeks heating up in embarrassment, he averts his eyes from Wirt’s and silently offers him the cup.

    “Listen, I’d pour you a drink, I really would, but, uh, my skin condition makes it so I can’t, like, come into contact with any liquids. I mean, it’s bad. I get hives from it.” That sounded right, didn’t it? Hives. Really bad hives. That was a good alibi. 

[pushoverpoet-blog]

   Of course the kid had a rare, probably incurable skin condition, and of course Wirt had to comment on it. Forcing down his embarrassment, Wirt follows Tyrone into the house. Like everything else in the city, it was peculiar and somewhat out of place, like a museum of sorts. Oddities and peculiar objects line the walls, things that Wirt knew better than to touch, especially after one of the supposedly stuffed creatures blinks at him.

  The kitchen, on the other hand, possesses a homely feel that Wirt had sorely missed, the patterned wallpaper reminding him of his own home. Tyrone had been about to give him a drink, but once again his skin condition was brought up. Was he allergic to water? That could explain the odd texture of his skin.

   “Oh, you mean aquagenic urticaria?” Wirt remarks casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No worries, I can get myself a drink.”

  He pours himself water from the tap, but as he walks over to take a seat by the table, he trips over his own feet, some of the water splashing out of its container and nearly getting on Tyrone, missing him by a few inches. His face contorts to an expression of terror as he realizes what almost happened.

   "O-oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I’ll clean that right up!” He panics, voice cracking awfully as he scrambles to grab a towel off the closest counter, bumping his elbow in the process. He looks up nervously as he mops down the floor. “N-nothing got on you, r-right?”

[paperpines]

Lᴏsᴛ 

[paperpines]

    “Oh, haha, yeah, welcome to Hive City, dude,” Tyrone shrugged, laughing to himself. That sounded about right. When he had first come to Hive City he had become extremely lost within the labyrinth-like area as well. Of course, everyone was sort of lost in Hive City. People usually didn’t stop feeling lost until they found a home of some type, or a place they felt less lost.

    The first month was the hardest though, that was for sure.

    “Do you need food? Water? I sure we’ve got something in the kitchen.” With a warm smile he offered out a hand to the teen, presumably for a handshake. Tyrone sorta felt bad for the guy, after all, he looked really rough. Most people didn’t handle the city all that well at first. The first few weeks Tyrone spent running away from rain, desperately looking for shelter so he didn’t die. It definitely wasn’t a fun time.

    “My name’s Tyrone. Nice to meet you.”

[pushoverpoet-blog]

    “Tyrone?” Wirt was a little surprised at the name, but caught himself before he made a confused face; it wasn’t like he was in any position to judge people on that front. “I’m Wirt. Nice to meet you.”

    He takes Tyrone’s hand, noting that the texture was rather dry and very much unlike the feel of a regular hand, even though it looked normal. “Whoa, your skin is kinda weird. I mean! It’s okay if it is! U-uh, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

    Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, Wirt pulls away. How typical of him, to mess up royally with the first person in the city who is nice to him.

    “Some water would be nice, if that’s okay with you.” After that shaky introduction, Wirt was unsure if he was even going to get help now. In reality, he was starving, and he prayed the kid wouldn’t take his bluntness to heart.

[paperpines]

Lᴏsᴛ 🍂

@pushoverpoet    

    Autumn had come and gone in what felt like the mere blink of an eye. Tyrone didn’t mind, he liked the drier seasons, it meant less rain to worry about. Although, he wasn’t sure how he felt about the absurd amount of leaves he had to sweep up from the porch of the Mystery Shack. Man, he always got the short end of the stick with chores – even more so than Dipper did! But, whatever, it wasn’t like they were all that busy anyway. It gave him something to do.

    In the distance, Tyrone could see a strange pointed red hat, one that was nearly identical to what he recognized as typical gnome attire. Tyrone wasn’t personally versed in the fashion choices of gnomes, but, he did share Dipper’s memories, and Dipper had seen plenty of gnomes in his time. The person in the distance looked a whole lot like he was impersonating one. As the teen approached, it became clear he was the near opposite of a gnome, in fact he was a total beanpole.

    “Welcome to the Mystery Shack,” he called out, accustomed to greeting customers out of habit. Not looking up from his sweeping, his cleaning slowly comes to a halt when he notices the boy’s distraught expression out of the corner of his eye. Pausing, he leans on the broom, giving the caped teen a once over before talking to him. Tyrone knew that look, the kid was probably new to the city. He looked so confused, so lost.

    “You okay, man?”

[pushoverpoet-blog]

 For days, Wirt had been wandering the strange city, simply trying to survive his environment. Whereas the Unknown seemed homely and mostly peaceful, it seemed as though danger lurked behind every building, every tree. Few seemed willing to help, whilst most looked like they had less than friendly intentions or were simply unapproachable. As such, he kept out of the public eye, and retreated into a less populated area where he felt slightly more at ease.

   Still, he was even more lost than he has ever been.

   A run-down cabin crouched between towering redwoods, its dilapidating signs a comical contrast from the metropolitan city itself. The shack stood quiet, albeit for a boy about his age sweeping the grounds. He looked nonthreatening - at least, moreso than most of the inhabitants Wirt had come across. The figure mumbles a greeting, but the teen was unsure if he could as for help or not, so he hovered uncomfortably for a few moments, prepared to scamper off if he was unwanted. But the boy peered up at him with concern, so Wirt deemed it safe to converse.

   "I'm lost. Like, really lost. I woke up in this weird city a few days ago, but I still don't really know where I am." Wirt hung his head, dejected and fully convinced he'd be sent away elsewhere. That seemed to be the trend here, and he didn't expect anything from the guy.

[potatoesandmolasses]

@pushoverpoet > @paperpines

    “There it is!”

    Gregory was well-aware that Wirt had very little interest in visiting places that weren’t getting them home, but he also knew that Wirt would always follow Greg when he wandered somewhere. He probably just didn’t want to be alone.

    “Let’s go in! Maybe they’ll have something to eat in there!” Though, what were the chances a place with a name like “Mystery Shack” would serve food?

[pushoverpoet-blog]

    “Are you sure? That place looks creepy,” Wirt remarks, nervous about the run-down appearance of cabin.

    After hours of aimless wandering, avoiding the scarier beings that tried to approach him, and nearly breaking his foot from tripping over the rough terrain, Wirt had finally stumbled upon Greg, who looked no less upbeat than he ever did. Wirt had been so relieved that a few tears escaped his eyes, though he would never admit to it.

    Disregarding Wirt’s concern as usual, Greg runs off towards the place, and the older boy has no choice but to stay on his tail. Then again, the cabin was a stark but welcome contrast to the city, and there was something about it that felt homely. He approaches warily, ready to dart off at the first sign of danger.

@paperpines > @potatoesandmolasses

[pushoverpoet-blog]

    After the peculiar debriefing in the tiny, sterile room, the sudden bustle of the grimy city startles Wirt. Not a single face - friendly or otherwise - so much as glances in his direction.

    "Greg?" Wirt calls out desperately into the crowd of strangers, largely ignored. As terrified as he is, his first reflex still is to look for his brother.

    After the whimsical, rustic nature of the Unknown, seeing an eerie blend of humans, cyborgs and monsters all in one place unsettles him. Did he jump dimensions, spirited away by a malevolent force? The last thing he recalls was falling asleep under a tree beside Greg, who was annoyingly determined to find their way home.

    Wirt has never been further away from it.

    He's quickly swept into the foot traffic, nearly stumbling as he tries to keep up with the crowd. Wirt cranes his neck to spot Greg, Beatrice, someone he recognizes, but he's much smaller than most of the people around him, and he can’t see far past the broad torsos of the adults.

    "Greg..." he whimpers after finally managing to duck into a small side-alley to recuperate from his state of shock. He huddles into his cloak, confused about the strange town. A sense of loneliness instantly washes over him as he picks his way down the street, his last sense of hope completely gone as he exits onto a much less busier street.

[chillyescape]

Time always passes. Winter always follows the Fall.