#literally rereading goethe’s faust as we speak

[south-sea]

even a shadow and mephiles separated by different timelines and circumstances can still be counterparts

where shadow dies early, is revived, but never loses his memory, mephiles never actually gets erased, but is ejected from his original timeline due to it technically being reset, and is without their memory when they finally wake up.

they’re both the “came back wrong” trope, almost. anyone from timeline A might think this shadow is too soft. anyone from timeline B might think this mephiles is too… something. eccentric, maybe.

they wake up gasping in pain as the crystallized form starts to fade and resets them back to the shadow-but-not appearance. they’re disoriented, but in too much pain to be bothered by that just yet. it’s fine. this is familiar too, somehow.

when that pain fades and they’re left with just their loneliness, it starts to get to them. it’s been days. they summon a shadowy minion to talk to and feign sharing tea with it. it’s the middle of a forest, but no time like the present. it’s not a mad hatter situation where they’re rowdy and over-the-top and manic. it’s quiet, melancholy, simple make believe—they know it isn’t real, but pretending’s all they’ve got.

they know they’re supposed to be worshiped (maybe) and that they’re powerful (probably), but not much else. they’re no longer hostile and hellbent on destruction, but they’re not benevolent like solaris was. they’re just… wrong, somehow. the way they carry themself is jarring, the way their expressions trend makes them look unkind, the things they say are downright ominous—but it’s always said with good intentions.

some random hiker stumbles across their fake tea party with empty cups and a not-real figure and a feigned conversation. they look back at the person in a way that could be perceived as angrily suspicious and perhaps even offended at being interrupted. and then it flatlines and all at once as the person approaches: they throw their arms wide, the whole clearing is filled with more of these shadowy minions, there’s a small round table, the original minion standing there has a whole trey and tea set, but they welcome their new “honored guest” and invite them to sit down with them.

they talk. it’s uncomfortably forced at first, like a hostage situation—they did just start off practically threatening this hiker with an ambush. then it’s casual, then it’s almost pleasant, but there’s always an uneasy undercurrent of desperate melancholy. and when that talk starts to die down, they fold their hands on the table and tell their guest, “You should be careful approaching strangers. You never know who might have ill intentions.”

not them. some part of them still remembers being benevolent, after all. looking out for ‘lesser beings’ was just part of the gig. it comes as second nature—but so does the aggression and offness.

-

this could also go in a completely different direction where the pain doesn’t chill out after they wake up and they just go on a destructive rampage anyway to cope and have to be subdued, but where’s the fun in that