kevin-freed

[kevin-freed]

I mIsS yOuR sWeEt SwEeT sMiLe

"...you won't see it... I will never smile for you again..."What does he do? How does he kill this horrid thing?

[kevin-freed]

wHeRe HaVe YoU gOnE, pUpPeT?

No. NO.He shields his eyes from the light, now blinding. So tempting as it always was. But Kevin knew better now. It was the lamp of a lantern-fish, set to allure its prey so something horrific and hideous could snap its vicious teeth and savor its poor meal.

"Not yours... never. Never again..."

[kevin-freed]

"...maybe I'm being punished." He presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids, breathing out a long sigh. "For all the awful things he made me do. For the people he made me hurt and worse. This isn't a blessing, me being set free- it's a curse. I haven't been this alone since Void knows how long ago. I am no one and I belong no where and maybe that's what I deserve."

He slides off the rock, laying on his side and curling his knees to his chest, breath stirring dust in front of his face. "You can go if you want. I'm probably not going to be that interesting. In all this infinite universe, there has to be someone more worth observing than a nobody in nowhere."

"I thought not."

He looks back down, his teeth worrying a bit at his lower lip. He swallows hard, as if trying to hold something in.

"…I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t think I could ever smile again, nor hand my will over, so I don’t belong in Desert Bluffs as it is now. I don’t belong in Night Vale- Void knows what they’d do to me if I showed my face there again. I don’t have a home anymore. I don’t have one and I want one. I want to go home…"

He breathes in sharp and hard. He has his pride. He doesn’t want to cry in front of a stranger. But he hasn’t cried in the longest time. He feels an ocean, a salty, black, painful ocean heaving within him, screaming for escape.

[kevin-freed]

"I thought not."

He looks back down, his teeth worrying a bit at his lower lip. He swallows hard, as if trying to hold something in.

"...I don't belong anywhere. I don't think I could ever smile again, nor hand my will over, so I don't belong in Desert Bluffs as it is now. I don't belong in Night Vale- Void knows what they'd do to me if I showed my face there again. I don't have a home anymore. I don't have one and I want one. I want to go home..."

He breathes in sharp and hard. He has his pride. He doesn't want to cry in front of a stranger. But he hasn't cried in the longest time. He feels an ocean, a salty, black, painful ocean heaving within him, screaming for escape.

"No one. I don’t want that. In truth I never did, not truly. You don’t know, you don’t understand what really happened. Or maybe you do, if you know as much as you say."

He sits on a close-by rock, rubbing his temples.

"I don’t know what I am going to do. There seems to really be only one thing TO do and I don’t even know if I can do that. But… see, the town I am from is not the town I am from. The people I know are not the people I know. I was not me, not until I got thrown here. Now I AM me, but I have no friends, no home, no family, not even a profession. And the only way I can think of to reverse it all, to get everything back as it was, is to destroy that which corrupted everything."

Slowly, Kevin looks up again, staring straight at where the creature’s face would be if it had one.

"But I’m just a radio host. How do I kill a God, smiling or otherwise?"

[kevin-freed]

[kevin-freed]

"No one. I don't want that. In truth I never did, not truly. You don't know, you don't understand what really happened. Or maybe you do, if you know as much as you say."

He sits on a close-by rock, rubbing his temples.

"I don't know what I am going to do. There seems to really be only one thing TO do and I don't even know if I can do that. But... see, the town I am from is not the town I am from. The people I know are not the people I know. I was not me, not until I got thrown here. Now I AM me, but I have no friends, no home, no family, not even a profession. And the only way I can think of to reverse it all, to get everything back as it was, is to destroy that which corrupted everything."

Slowly, Kevin looks up again, staring straight at where the creature's face would be if it had one.

"But I'm just a radio host. How do I kill a God, smiling or otherwise?"

"Grey."

He rolls the word around in his mouth. Grey. So anathema to everything Desert Bluffs had become. Desert Bluffs was yellow and orange and gold and white. And red. So much red.

No, this must not be one of the Smiling God’s disciples. He would never select something grey, or at least without changing its color first.

Kevin sighs, tracing a toe in the dry ground.

"Yes. It was. It was a blessing and a curse."

Freedom at last, but isolation. The featureless creature was the first person he’d spoken to in his entire time here. "I am Kevin Free. I’m a… I was a… I…"

It was complicated.

"I’m a radio broadcaster."

Simplest answer.

[kevin-freed]

"Grey." He rolls the word around in his mouth. Grey. So anathema to everything Desert Bluffs had become. Desert Bluffs was yellow and orange and gold and white. And red. So much red.

No, this must not be one of the Smiling God's disciples. He would never select something grey, or at least without changing its color first.

Kevin sighs, tracing a toe in the dry ground.

"Yes. It was. It was a blessing and a curse."

Freedom at last, but isolation. The featureless creature was the first person he'd spoken to in his entire time here. "I am Kevin Free. I'm a... I was a... I..."

It was complicated.

"I'm a radio broadcaster."

Simplest answer.

kevin-freed:

holeinthefourthwall:

It watches him for a moment, a slight, slow, up-and-down tilt of its head suggesting it is sizing him up, despite having no visible eyes. Then it seems to come to some sort of conclusion, nods once, and boosts itself up to sit on top of its former hiding place.

"Yes." No motion from its blank visage accompanies the word, but it is clearly audible nonetheless. "I can."

There’s a long sigh. Relief, perhaps. Good, this is good. Someone to talk to, to interact with. Maybe even an ally. He approaches, walking around the rock, a flicker of curiosity in those pale purple eyes.

"Good. I haven’t talked to anyone in a very long time. It was getting very lonely out here."

He sits on a smaller rock nearby, chin resting in one hand.

"Who are you? Do you live in this desert?"

Once it had resisted having a name. It is one of the faceless, the anonymous. But it supposes that stepping out of the wall in the first place was an act of identity, and so its shoulders only hunch a little as it answers his first question.

"You can call me Grey if you like. Others have."

As for the second, that’s enough of a can of worms that it hesitates, then glances off over the sand and scrub with studied nonchalance. “That was quite a commotion around here a while back. You know, with the doors and the light and everything.”

[kevin-freed]

There’s a long sigh. Relief, perhaps. Good, this is good. Someone to talk to, to interact with. Maybe even an ally. He approaches, walking around the rock, a flicker of curiosity in those pale purple eyes.

"Good. I haven’t talked to anyone in a very long time. It was getting very lonely out here."

He sits on a smaller rock nearby, chin resting in one hand.

"Who are you? Do you live in this desert?"

*Self-recrimination is pointless. It has done this before. It has engaged with mercenaries, and with demigods. Why should one lone, blood-soaked, godforsaken former radio host with a letter opener be any threat? (Well. You know. Beyond, of course, the fact(s) that it is unarmed, unarmored, physically smaller, unskilled in any sort of arts martial, and lacking in human features beyond basic silhouette. DETAILS.) Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? And so it peers hesitantly up over the rock.

Hm. Interesting. Well, it definitely wasn’t one of His- it was distinctly lacking in a giant meaningless smile.

The lack of any sort of feature, however, did not seem to bother Kevin in the least. He’d seen far stranger and far more horrific things than a faceless gray person. He sheathes the letter opener, for now.

"Can you speak?"

It was lacking a mouth, after all. Not that things without mouths were always devoid of speech.

[kevin-freed]

*Self-recrimination is pointless. It has done this before. It has engaged with mercenaries, and with demigods. Why should one lone, blood-soaked, godforsaken former radio host with a letter opener be any threat? (Well. You know. Beyond, of course, the fact(s) that it is unarmed, unarmored, physically smaller, unskilled in any sort of arts martial, and lacking in human features beyond basic silhouette. DETAILS.) Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? And so it peers hesitantly up over the rock.

Hm. Interesting. Well, it definitely wasn't one of His- it was distinctly lacking in a giant meaningless smile.

The lack of any sort of feature, however, did not seem to bother Kevin in the least. He'd seen far stranger and far more horrific things than a faceless gray person. He sheathes the letter opener, for now.

"Can you speak?"

It was lacking a mouth, after all. Not that things without mouths were always devoid of speech.

[kevin-freed]

*God-touched. Homicidal. Possibly - PROBABLY - irretrievably broken by imposition and then withdrawal of (Survived rejection of? Please.) his god's favor. And armed with a sharp, pointy object. This much is readily observable from the safety of the wall. Interesting, certainly, but far too dangerous to emerge and approach... so why does it find itself outside the wall, although still silent, huddled behind a boulder barely large enough to mask its slight form from view? Curiosity is a CURSE.*

There. Did something move?

He approaches with caution. Nothing is to be left to chance, not now. Not out of any real concern for his own well-being, really, but... again, he had the burden of being the last. The last free person in Desert Bluffs, though he wasn't technically IN Desert Bluffs at present. Still, someone had to save his town. And if it wasn't him, nobody could. Nobody from Night Vale would bother, that was for sure.

Maybe he couldn't blame them. But it'd help if they'd try to understand. They hadn't asked for this any more than Night Vale had asked for the same invasion. The only difference is that they, lucky sons of bitches, had managed to fight it off.

"...who are you? Did the Smiling God send you?"

[kevin-freed]

[kevin-freed]

*Sensitive, this one. Far more so than usual - not surprising, all things considered, but something TO consider, and at length, before engaging further. It has seen this one's history, ohhh yes - his sodden abattoir of a broadcasting booth, his PRODUCTIVITY. His smile. (All smiles are at least a little strange to the mouthless, but this one's were particularly disturbing.) But he is not smiling now. How strange. Has his god rejected him? Or... has he rejected his god? And survived? Surely not.*

No. He is not smiling. The bloodstains on his suit are old, his lapel no longer bearing the logo pin of the company he once so gleefully worked for. His eyes are not hollows of void, but a pale lavender. Glasgow scars mar the edges of his lips.He does not smile. He is so sick to death of smiling and he has nothing to smile about regardless.

His grip tightens on the letter opener.

"I know you're there. Come out."

Friend, he had someone to speak with, maybe even an ally. Foe... he would have no regrets over dispatching one of HIS agents. Perhaps the first kill he would not regret.

[kevin-freed]

*The walls between realities are breached with a frequency that would astonish most - MOST - natives of those realities, but most of the time it is done secretively enough, or hushed up quickly enough, to go unnoticed. Unless one lives in between in the first place, as the greyfaces do, observing as if each were some sort of created fiction put on for their entertainment. It IS less common that the breach involves an actual god - and rarer still to find a survivor. This one might bear watching.*

"...Hello?"

Someone is there. He's become far too acquainted with the feeling of being totally alone- something's different, which means he must not be.

He has a knife on him. A letter opener, really. Something he'd had on him during the incident with the Seans... no, no, there's nothing for it now, do NOT throw up. It's the only weapon you have.

He wants to talk to someone. Anyone. But he's not so desperate that he won't be on his guard.

"Who's there?"

[kevin-freed]

[kevin-freed]

Radio Nowhere-Bruce Springsteen

“Is there anybody alive out there?”

[kevin-freed]

this is radio nowhere

is there anybody alive out there?

Is there anyone awake?

please someone. please anyone.

my phone is full of people who I don't want to talk to anymore

and the odd person who wouldn't want to talk to me.

I am lonely and hungry and thirsty and homesick

homesick for a home I haven't known in years.

I can't be the only one.

But I was the last. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger, Desert Bluffs.

Please, if anyone can hear me... tell me so.

this is radio nowhere

is there anybody alive out there

is there anybody alive out there...

[kevin-freed]