There is no surprise to be found whenever the smiling host drifts towards the topic of his smiling god; or the absence of it, the idea of its presence not lingering beyond a mention. Suppose it isn’t about that - suppose Cecil is feeding into thoughts that haven’t been considered. Thoughts that are considered are those of his husband’s past residence, the space now accompanied by Kevin, the space that doesn’t coincide with the linear progression of time. Well, that — that is… a development. Shoulders slump at the discovery, although ears remain intently listening.
“I can see that,” Cecil remarks, sincerely uncertain of what exactly he sees outside of the obvious markings his double points out, a visible shudder wrecking his form, “And you’ve… certainly gotten a lot done since we have last spoken to one another.”
Plenty. Surely in the time it had taken - if Cecil understood the concept correctly and he, unfortunately, thought that he did - Kevin would have matched him in his… decrepit state. The smile upon his lips has not loosened, the flesh surrounding it holding firm; maintaining its eerie form. If the Voice thought harder about the situation, it would almost be depressing, hopeless - and so, he doesn’t.
“I’ve seen you’ve made it… homely?”
Teetering on the line of cordial and inhospitable seemed like a suitable contrast for the two parties involved.
“Yes, it - Night Vale - has undergone a few changes these last few months. They have required an adjustment period due to their severity, of course nothing that we can’t handle. There is a lot that we can handle.. and there are a few things that need additional effort. Time desires much of what we have to give; effort being highly ranked atop an ever expanding list. I… well, I have been working. Spending time with Janice, Abby, Steve… Carlos. Recounting the days that seem so far ago now - recalling only a handful of events.”
A small beat of silence. It was an answer, as indirect as it were.
A sincere and sharp and unnatural smile spikes up his younger face, the broken reflection that he was, in pure pride as he brushes worn hands over the wounds that still slightly ached.
“ I promised I would, Cecil..! And, I keep my word... Though- I believe ‘charming’ was the word I used... painfully so. It isn’t done-- I suppose a town never really is-- but it’s... almost like... I remember it. ” Remembered it? Memory couldn’t be trusted behind those lightless eyes, but somewhere beneath blood stains and the blinding light that left such bone-deep burns all along his thoughts; there was a town. A Desert Bluffs. It is burned and bloody but it is
there and it is his.
‘Changes’ the Night Vale host had mentioned, and his black holes suddenly burrowed straight into them, giving full attention, a tilt of his head in interest. The more they go on, maybe that burrowing got worse as they slowly blink. The words began to blur as he listened more for tone in some clue to missing detail. Their double’s answer was... deliberately unspecific. Perhaps that’s what happens when one doesn’t simply ask plainly- but, he just wasn’t taught to be direct on the first try...
“ ... Great! ” The smiling host had eventually punctuated the pause between them, but quickly a breath in as he continues; “ Um-- Cecil... Do you... know why I come to see you sometimes? ” Hands go to his hips as he finds the words to say, his grin returning. “ I visit because you remind me so much of- just SO many things... and I come here, almost drawn... just to see how much we pull apart-- Like, walking steadily and infinitely backwards from a mirror... But-- I didn’t expect... this. ” His blissful tone is disrupted, becoming almost quiet- timid, brows furrowing even against his waning smile.
“ I was hoping you’d explain, but, I... get it now... Time. Somehow your time is moving forward--
you’re... dying. ”
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