night vision

walden macnair eldest not wisest selling organs

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

Che-Wei sighed. He grabbed his smartest robe and draped it over his shoulders for the journey. “That’s, like, the number one thing dear old mumsy and dadsy warn Junior and little Sally Sunshine about avoiding in the real world.” He wiggled his fingers in Walden’s face and made not-so-spooky ghost sounds. “Uwu. Don’t drink the kool-aid.” He looked Walden up and he looked him down, and he decided it made sense that Mr. and Mrs. Macnair wouldn’t have bothered imparting the lesson. He kept his spirit fingers to himself for the rest of the night. 

.

“Yes, but Junior and Sally Sunshine are now older, and like free things.” Besides, he was fairly certain rebellion was common with most people. Though Walden himself had never really bothered with that phase. His parents simply let him be whoever he was, and that was all that could be said about that. No one would’ve ever assumed that he had such a stable, normal family life. But the Macnairs were not monsters.

Still, he shrugged, knowing his place in most of the relationships in his life. Che-Wei could big brain this however he pleased. Just so long as Walden was allowed to be a part of the ride, too.

“Let’s hurry it up. I don’t want to freeze my bollocks off.”

the end

[whereiswalden]

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

He had done it! Che-Wei had done it. In not even meaning to, he had convinced Walden Macnair to join his cult because it looked fun. Yeah, so, alright he wasn’t really getting sucked into the cult so much as he was looking for a gig, but that didn’t matter. This was a victory to Che-Wei. He needed people in the know as much as he needed the blind.

“This calls for a night out, Macnair.” His natural smile was greasy and yellowed. That’s the one he gave Walden now. “What better way to spread the good news of the holy sorcerer’s divine word than after the people have a collective few rounds in them and are wobbling down Cross Road? Besides…” Something sparkled in his eye. “Considering this is, technically, a mission trip I think we can safely say the church will fund it.”  

The Church of the Holy Sorcerer might not have been doing as well as he wanted; Che-Wei was still living in The Commons, for one. But a few drinks? That, the church could afford to front the bill for. 

.

Walden was already half way out the door, never one to pass up on drinks, especially if they were free. What better word was there than free? It was funny, he thought. Given the fact that he had more than enough money to go around. And yet, the very mention of being given something without having to pay for it was more effective than any single narcotic he had ever done.

“Just lure people in with free drinks, and the place will be crawling. Mostly with ants, but still.”

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

“Oh.” Che-Wei was taken aback. “You want in?” The man was touched. And here he had only been showing off. 

.

“Well, yes.” Most of his time was spent following Eris’ orders, and doing her bidding on behalf of the Dark Lord. But Walden had no job. He merely fought when he wanted to flex his figurative and very real muscles, and the rest of the time, he waited. Whether it was for a mission, or for his sister to bake another batch of scones. “Of course I want in. This sounds like fun.”

Because to people like Walden, playing with people’s lives truly was just another form of entertainment. With no care for how they turned out, or if this was even in their best interest.

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

Ding ding ding. Where Che-Wei pulled the bell out from, it was best not to dwell on. “We have a winner. Brilliant, right? What’s that thing the Muggles say, fake it til you make it? Well!” A boom, as he clapped his palms together. “I’ve decided to take it literally.” The magic faded. Che-Wei fizzled back into himself.

.

“And, uh, where do I fit in with all of this?” Walden, while stupid, was also more self-interested than the common man. Always thinking about his own wants and needs. Selfless he was not. “I don’t fancy being a sidekick. That’s bloody boring and dull.”

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

“No no no. See,” Che-Wei grinned, glad for the excuse to explain his evil masterplan. “The key is making them ask you if they can join. My job— this guy’s job— is to make it look like we are everywhere.” What a cult needed, at least in the beginning, was numbers. Numbers that Che-Wei didn’t have. Numbers he had to pad out, and if that meant wearing a few different faces around town then so be it. “I don’t want a soul in Cardiff to leave their flat without seeing or hearing from someone involved in the church. So I have a few of these guys.” The regular, normal, every day guy faces. The relatable, lovable, fun guys.

“But this next character,” he paused,  “his job is making membership look desirable. Like the sort of organization you give to, and success follows in return. Give me a second.” It was hard work, changing an appearance. At first, as the glamours fell away, Che-Wei slipped back into his root appearance. But then that, too, began to shift. Slowly at first, at the edges. Like the impression left of a TV in those moments after the power was turned off. It was Che-Wei, and it wasn’t, and then it was someone else entirely. 

Che-Wei didn’t say anything, just waited for his friend’s approval. 

.

“What the fuck?” He blinked once. Twice. Another time for good measure to make sure that his own eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. “That’s bloody freaky, mate. I mean, brilliant, don’t get me wrong. Just fucking weird.” Though when he said it, it already possessed a reverent tone. The kind that came with finding someone both smarter and better put together than you, so anything they said became that much more important.

He cleared his throat. “So you—” Walden began slowly, putting the pieces together. “You’re going to be living different lives all in one life to make everyone believe that you’ve got more followers than you actually have.”

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

Che-Wei thought Walden was full of shit. As an official cult leader now, he considered himself a pretty good authority on who was and was not a nitwit, and Walden was pretty nitty as far as wits went. Which made him one of the best people to ask this question to, because Walden Macnair was the target audience.

He said exactly as much. “You’re full of shit, Macnair. You’d trust a niffler to polish your silver.” The ugly Cardiff twang in his voice broke the spell for a moment, answering Walden’s question, but then he was back again. Beard and all. 

“The record is three years, two days, twenty-eight minutes and four seconds.” It went without saying that Che-Wei Goyle did not hold that record. 

.

Walden pouted like the child that he was, hating being called out so ruthlessly and truthfully. Between Esmeralda and Che-Wei, no one was about to coddle him when it came to what he was truly capable of. And deception had never been his strong suit. It didn’t need to be. Not when Che-Wei was proving right here and now that only one brain was necessary for this type of operation.

“And you’re going to just? Be nice? And ask people to join?” He was slow on the uptake.

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

The corners of Che-Wei’s mouth quirked up in amusement. That was the beauty of glamours. Nothing about Che-Wei, as he experienced himself, had changed. It wasn’t like the warping and contorting of the Polyjuice Potion. It was an act. A lie. A performance; the audience (currently, Walden Macnair) saw the character he projected and were fooled into thinking it reality. Only Che-Wei could see (and feel) the truth. 

At least, only he could when it was done right. It was hard magic. Taxing. 

“Out of preference, or inability?” he ragged. “I don’t feel a thing.” That didn’t stop him from reaching up and pretending to stroke his new beard thoughtfully. “Is this a face you could trust?”

.

“Well that’s just a trick question, isn’t it?” Walden replied, as though what Che-Wei said was the most offensively stupid thing he had ever heard in his entire stupid life. “I don’t trust any face, so I’m clearly the worst person to ask that to.” Except, he was rather trusting in most circumstances. Which was amusing, once someone knew about all of Walden’s past times.

He wasn’t exactly a bright Sunday stroll in the park. “How long can you even keep this look up for?”

[whereiswalden]

theprophetgoyle​:

WHEN: 16 January 1981 WHERE: The Commons WHO: @whereiswalden​

“So?” Che-Wei stepped out into the center of his shabby flat at The Commons. It was the same one he’d been renting since the day he left home almost a decade ago. He hoped 1980 would be the last full year he spent in it. The man grew eager for the day he could start skimming from the church in earnest, and move himself up and out.  “How’s the glamour look? If there’s a loose end, it’s better to hear about it now. What about the voice?” Voices had always been more tricky for him. Faces, shapes… that was where Che-Wei excelled. 

.

Walden looked up Che-Wei as he did all things. In a haphazard manner that expressed no care or gentleness. He was a man that lacked all finesse in matters, and mostly went through the world with a blunt-force level of trauma. “You look weird with a beard.” Which made little sense, given that Che-Wei’s face wasn’t even his own face, but it was the first thing that popped into Walden’s mind. Which meant it had to be said. “Is it itchy? I’ve never had one before.”

[sturgispodmore]

WALDEN MACNAIR.

Walden stared at Stewie blankly, waiting for more information to come, because so far that just sounded like someone saying a month in the year. Nothing stirred in his brain. No flicker of recognition of what December meant. Not even as he clutched a jacket to his body. “Okay, then we’ll try in January. Now. Are we shopping, or what?”

Sturgis’s lips parted, his mouth nearly falling open, but he stopped himself—and refrained from speaking on the topic further. What did it matter, anyway? It’s not like he would be the one to potentially catch hypothermia from being beach dwelling in January. “Sure, yeah.” Sturgis cleared his throat. 

“Let’s shop.” 

[ fin ]

[whereiswalden]

sturgispodmore​:

Sturgis blinked. “I can’t imagine there would be very many people at a nude beach—” He paused. “In December.”

.

Walden stared at Stewie blankly, waiting for more information to come, because so far that just sounded like someone saying a month in the year. Nothing stirred in his brain. No flicker of recognition of what December meant. Not even as he clutched a jacket to his body. “Okay, then we’ll try in January. Now. Are we shopping, or what?”

[pyreoferis]

whereiswalden​:

“Is there anything else you need me for?” He didn’t want to be too eager, but Walden wasn’t a subtle person. No matter his meaning. That was the strange power with someone who didn’t have outright intelligence. Walden’s straightforward way of thinking, without the necessity for detours, allowed conversations with him to go by quickly and painlessly.

.

“Maybe one more thing.” She looked at him like prey she was about to devour. It was about as lovingly as Eris could look at another human being. “Come, Walden, I’ve got some things I want to try out in my room.” 

fin.

[whereiswalden]

pyreoferis​:

“Look at you, there may be a brain in there, after all, Walden.” She looked almost impressed with him. Almost. After all, brute strength was no match against a magical threat, but his reasoning made sense. 

.

“Is there anything else you need me for?” He didn’t want to be too eager, but Walden wasn’t a subtle person. No matter his meaning. That was the strange power with someone who didn’t have outright intelligence. Walden’s straightforward way of thinking, without the necessity for detours, allowed conversations with him to go by quickly and painlessly.

[whereiswalden]

sturgispodmore​:

“There’s places in Europe you can be shirtless,” Sturgis added as he weaved around people—the tourists being incredibly obvious. “Hell, there are beaches you can be entirely nude.”

.

“Then fuck Paris.” Well, not entirely, Walden did want to go shopping. “You just propositioned me to go to a nudist beach, and I accept.” That wasn’t what happened at all, but the whims of madness were easy to fall into, and Walden barely understood what propositioned even meant.

[whereiswalden]

pyreoferis​:

“And do you think muscle is necessary when we’ve got magic?”

.

“It’s always good to have a back-up plan, Eris, should something go wrong.” And Walden’s plans always led back to the strength of one of his punches, or the height of a kick. Violence was an easy language to understand.

[whereiswalden]

pyreoferis​:

“You’ve always been so accommodating, Walden.” It was likely why she kept around his company. He wasn’t especially bright, after all, but he was eager. “We need to do this more often.”

.

“Don’t forget, I’m good muscle, too.” He flexed his arms, which were covered with a thick, wool sweater. Walden was sure he got the point across.

[whereiswalden]

pyreoferis​:

“Oh, I don’t think there’ll be any need for too many tests. Besides, isn’t that what muggles are for? Experimentation and the like? And not to say anything of the fact that I need you for this. Can’t have you down and out. Otherwise it’ll ruin this nice New Year surprise.” Did she truly need him? Probably not, but it never hurt to make sure that he was always at her disposal and in his good graces. 

.

“Then I’ll just keep you company after I’ve gathered up your supplies.” Everyone needed an assistant. First Markus, now Eris. Even Esmeralda, in someways, fell into the category of a main character who Walden had sidelined himself for. The thought would never make him sad. In many ways, he was simply happy to be a part of something.