(context for watcher/listener!sausage can be found in the “videos” tag on my blog if you want it, but this ficlet can be read without said context)
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“Y’know, of all the Hermits I was expecting to be pulling me into a dark corner tonight, I did not expect you to be first, Grian! I love the initiative!”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Grian says in a voice near a hiss. He’s got Sausage by the wrist, leading him into a small area of the upper floor of the tavern in Sanctaury that does look like it was built for the exact purpose Sausage is implying. Grian decides to ignore that as well.
“What are you doing here?” Grian’s straight to the point. He always has to be, with these Things, if he doesn’t want to get trapped in a loop of slant rhyming pleasantries.
“What do you mean?” Sausage asks, shaking his wrist out of Grian’s tight grip and leaning comfortably against the wall. “This is where I live. It’s my home. If anything, I should be asking you mysterious strangers what you’re doing here, but I’m sure you’ve heard that question enough for one day.”
“You know exactly what I mean.” Grian crosses his arms and tries his best not to look petulant, but he sure feels like it. “I thought They’d given up on trying to snatch me back, so why would They send you of all people? What’s your game?”
Sausage laughs, honest to god laughs, like he can’t believe Grian’s even asking him such a question. Grian thinks it’s a reasonable question, in this scenario, but what he thinks and what’s reasonable rarely seems to matter with these things.
“They didn’t send me,” Sausage looks him up and down in that way that makes Grian have to physically stop himself from curling inwards. This is why he never talks to Them. “Nobody sends me anywhere, they don’t tell me what to do and I like it that way! I just do my own thing. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“No you’re not! You’re not- you can’t be! That’s not how this works!” Grian begins to notice that he’s no longer whisper-shouting and starting to just-normal-shout and takes a deep breath, trying not to draw the attention of his friends enjoying themselves on the floor below. And, realistically, in the other dark corners Sausage seems to have built into this place.
“That’s exactly how this works. You didn’t think you were the only person who’d left, did you?”
Grian opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks. In hindsight… yeah, he had kind of assumed he’d been the only person who’d left. Not for lack of trying, probably- but They’d tried for so long to get him back, kept him closely surveilled even when They’d accepted he was gone- surely some people had caved to that pressure eventually. When there was no sign They’d ever let up, ever let you go… he could understand eventually letting it overtake you.
“Did- did you leave, too?” Grian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Sausage’s face. He didn’t know him back then, of course. He probably would’ve connected the man with the person Pearl so often spoke about sooner. But he knows it’s been a long time, maybe even longer than the last time Grian had gone There. He doesn’t think Sausage had been There, that day. This might explain why.
“Eh, not quite?”
“What-“ Grian flails, both mentally and with his arms a bit. “What do you mean not quite?”
“Exactly what I said! I was never- it’s complicated, y’know?”
“Explain. Now.”
“Well, uh,” Sausage seems to flounder for the first time since this conversation started, which Grian is choosing to take as a victory. “Look, I wasn’t- they didn’t pick me. For this, or for anything, ever. Sometimes things just happen and you get yourself into a place you shouldn’t have and then… they can’t get rid of me, I can’t get rid of them, it is what it is.”
Grian stares at him for a long moment. Really stares at him, in the same way Sausage had looked him over earlier, in the same way that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. Judging by the sudden nerves in his eyes, Grian can assume he feels it too. Grian remembers his face. That had been the first thing he’d noticed, when the Hermits had arrived. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, but Grian knew his face. And now that Grian was studying him, really trying to remember… he’s not sure he quite likes what memories he’s dredging up.
“What are you?”
“Grian!” Sausage’s voice drips with mock offense as he puts his hand up to partially cover his mouth. “We only just met, do you think that’s polite?”
“Answer the question,” Grian sighs. How Pearl deals with this man on the regular, he doesn’t know.
“Well, if you insist.” Sausage sighs, somehow even more exaggerated than his previous movements. “It’s just… if you’ll believe it, it’s somehow even harder to answer the first question.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Grian says. “They’re two very different People, you know.”
“But they’re the same species, when it all comes down to it. Like, you might be very different than a chicken, but you’re both birds in the long run.”
Grian pauses, fanning his wings out a bit behind him as he considers. “I don’t think that metaphor’s quite landing the way you want it to.”
“No, me neither. Anyways, let me continue.
When they don’t pick you, things go a little differently! You don’t get sorted onto one side or the other since, well, you’re not really supposed to be there? So I’m… whatever I want to be, really. I think I’m feeling like more of a Listener, today, but we’ll see how the mood shifts.”
Grian flinches at the Name, on instinct. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he files it away to be dealt with at a later date. As for the rest of what Sausage said-
“What?”
“You heard me.” Sausage shrugs. He’s so nonchalant, Grian thinks he might strangle him, if not for the worry that that’s exactly what he wants out of this, somehow.
“Did I? Did I hear you?” Grian wants to pace, but that requires leaving the security of the corner, so he forces his feet to root themselves to the floor. “I thought- I thought you had to- if you wanted to change sides, I thought you had to-“
Grian closes one eye and takes his thumb to it, twisting the finger into his eyelid. The gesture seems to get the point across.
“Well, that’s the funny thing about this, actually.” From the way he’s been talking, Grian assumed Sausage thought this whole thing was funny. He restrains himself from saying that out loud if only so Sausage will finish his explanation.
Sausage reaches up to his left eye, pulls his eye lid back a bit, and unceremoniously pops out his prosthetic eye.
“All these processes and rituals actually have a lot of loopholes.”
Grian doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s enough to make Sausage giggle while he pops the eye back in. Because of course he does. Because this how his day is going, apparently. Walk through a weird portal in his basement and wake up in a world filled with his friends who don’t recognize him and also a guy he only ever saw There, who he was never supposed to see again. Sure. Of course he’s laughing about it. Grian thinks if he was a slightly different person, he’d be laughing too. It is, undeniably, absurd.
“Well, I think we’re done here then!” Grian would probably object if he weren’t so shocked about the loopholes. As it is, he just stands there a bit stupidly.
Sausage turns away to return to the party before turn around again for just a moment, reaching over, and ruffling Grian’s hair. That shocks him enough to shake him out of his stupor and swat Sausage’s hand away, though not before his hair is suitably messed up.
“What was that for?!”
Sausage smiles as he reaches up to rough up his own hair as well. “I assumed you didn’t want your friends asking questions about why you were dragging me into a dark corner, you know?” Sausage even goes far enough to pull his shirt a bit out of where it’s tucked into his pants, because of course he does. Grian tries not to cringe, but Sausage is right about this one thing. It is the easiest way to dodge any questions about where he’d gone off to- at the expense of the many knowing looks and teasing remarks he’ll be getting from the other Hermits instead.
“Have a good night, Grian!” Sausage calls over his shoulder as he turns to leave for real this time. “And remember, drinks are on me for all you guests tonight! You look like you need it.”
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Erend: they don't Id me at the liquor store anymore because they see the light has left my eyes
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Erend: We're playing Scrabble. It's a nightmare.
Alva: Scrabble? Scrabble's great.
Erend: Not when you're playing with Zo, it's not. They put words like "ephemeral" and I put "dog".
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Varl: You're ignoring all your problems.
Aloy: I know.
Varl: You also know it's an unhealthy coping mechanism?
Aloy: I'm ignoring that fact as well.
Varl:
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Zo: In your opinion, what's the height of stupidity?
Aloy: turning to Sylens How tall are you?
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Aloy: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!
Sylens: Oh yeah? You're the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD.
Aloy: I'm leaving you, and I'm TAKING BETA WITH ME!
Varl, picking up the strike board: I think we're gonna stop playing now.
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Aloy: Want do you want to be for "Halloween"?
Beta: Loved.
Aloy: Don't do this.
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Sylens: I will not stand to be disrespected like this!
Aloy: Then sit.
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Alva: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life...
Zo: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back.
Aloy: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.
Beta: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.
Erend: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.
Varl: Mental stability, my old friend!
Alva: Ancestors, could you guys lighten up a little?
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Varl: What do you think Kotallo will do for a distraction?
Aloy: Probably, like, whistle or throw a rock. That's what I would do.
Building explodes and several car alarms go off
Aloy: ...or they could do that.
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OK THAT'S ENOUGH I SHOULD PROABLY STOP NOW BYE
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Perditus grunted a little as he adjusted his leg while laying down against the rock. It was a pleasant day, all things considered: the sun was warm without being smoldering, the winds were strong but not as harsh as usual, and he had something to make the pain a little more bearable.
With his eyes shut he fished a flint lighter and a medicinal sghitt out of the pouch under his thigh armor.
He didn't bother looking as he heard footsteps approach quickly; medication stuck between his teeth, he clicked lazily until he caught the telltale crackle of papery tissue catching fire, took the longest, deepest inhale he could, soaking in the acrid taste and familiar burn in the back of his head, and let an enormous cloud of septic-smelling smoke blow out of his mouth with a growling sigh.
His fellow debtor sat beside him nervously, scanning the horizon.
"Any news?" he asked.
"I was going to ask you," the Glatorian replied.
"None, then."
"None."
Hard nails tapped far too quickly against the rock.
Perditus took another drag. The numbing effect was starting to take hold of his anguishing limb.
"Do you think it'll be soon?" Atakus asked.
The Tapyri exhaled: "Maybe."
"Yes or no?"
"Maybe, I said."
"Maybe means nothing," the other said, glaring at him with his typical nervous anger, the fact that the larger being still wasn't looking at him inconsequential: "Will it be soon, yes or no?"
A shrug: "Probably, yes."
"You think?"
"Unless he wants to observe these freaks of nature do their merry little dance in a new environment for a while. But I'll bet a guy like him has already watched them long enough to get bored by now."
Another pause.
The hard nails were now scratching at the stone.
Another long drag and a puff of smoke.
"Do you think he'll kill us before or after the plan's done?"
"Who knows," Perditus answered lazily. He reclined his head to better bask in the sun. "Before would be a little annoying. For us, of course, he wouldn't care if we never saw what all this thankless work has been for. But then again we're his cannon fodder - maybe he'll wait till he has no need even for that."
He played with his sghitt, turning it between his fingers.
The knowledge that his eventual instantaneous murder would be inevitable had slowly but surely numbed him to the very same fact across the span of the many, interminable centuries that had passed since the day he'd started wracking up this blasted debt, and his only request (which he knew would never be taken into consideration) was to be allowed to die slowly, painfully, so that he could at least feel the life leave his body properly; but Atakus had never managed to make peace with the horror of their shared fate, and now that the moment was drawing near he was every day a little closer to losing his mind completely to the horror of his situation.
Frankly he was surprised the Potori had lived this long, with as anxious a disposition as he had. He'd always imagined he'd get out of his shackles with a stroke.
And yet here they both were.
Awaiting the second coming of a cruel god.
And while entire species were about to be massacred into heaps of melting, wailing scraps any second or day or month now, they were sitting against a rock under a pleasantly warm sun bathing in its light.
He could hear the Agori's irregular breath become louder.
"How's your leg?" Atakus asked in a fruitless attempt at changing the course of his spiraling thoughts.
"Hurts as usual." Perditus replied. "How's your heart?"
"Beating too fast," the Potori answered, "As usual."
The Glatorian's hand leaned over to the smaller being, offering the sghitt between his index and middle: "Take as many as you need."
The medicine was taken from his fingers by significantly shakier ones. He listened to the air slither with a long hiss into Atakus's lungs for the first time; the second was a little longer, a little less frantic, followed by a loud sigh; the third time was slow and deliberate, finally a little more at ease.
He listened to the sound of Skrall armor scraping against stone as the Agori laid back against the warm rock with him. A smaller hand placed the medication back in his palm, and he hummed gratefully before taking another drag himself.
The wind picked up slightly and dragged the smoke away from them.
He opened his eyes blearily, squinting in the sun.
Such a nice day.
Something far, far away, up in the clear sky, exploded. He saw the burst, a blot of bright hot color tearing apart the stratosphere, and long lines of white and faint red as pieces of whatever that was tried to land on Spherus Magna; but the destroyed body was barely above the size of a dot from where he was, and its meteors shriveled up into dust before coming anywhere close to the highest point available for them to strike, and in the end nothing of whatever tragedy had just transpired mattered at all.
The Glatorian hummed.
"Did something happen?" Atakus asked, eyes closed.
"No," his companion reassured him. "Relax."
The Potori did not respond, and got a little more comfortable.
Perditus glanced at him.
Maybe it made sense - he mused for a second, a second only - for Velika, of all cruel, paradoxical beings, to one day have complete and total control over this cruel, paradoxical world.
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