balance_logs | Lunar Interlude 4

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Lunar Interlude 4 — corporate retreat

	I have a feeling that you'll find the next few weeks a little... in-tents.
	NAVIGATION

1. NEW RECLAIMERS

A. WELCOME WAGON

For those of you who will be arriving today, the story is the same: though you may not remember it, there was a moment where you were living out your life, at home or wherever you were ... and then there was the moment the Hunger came. And amid the television static that is your memory of that moment, a hand reached out to you, beckoning your escape as the tendrils of darkness destroyed everything that ever existed about your world.

"Would you hurry this up, please? Your world no longer stands a chance. Come with me, we are the last bastions of hope for all universes everywhere. And we're going to need you."

And then, unceremoniously, you are dragged through the universal wringer and plopped down on the soft, though not quite cushioned, grass of the Moon Base Quad.

You're not alone, either. Along with the newest members of the Bureau, in a fashion probably not unlike this, there are people waiting here for you. People who wanted to see the heroes the Director has managed to bring in this time.

People who are excited to see what you're capable of.

You have a few minutes to talk with each other — or maybe lob a few questions at the impromptu welcoming committee, or any of the older Reclaimers who may happen to be nearby. But before long, you're whisked away to a different area of the Moon Base.

B. THE VOIDFISH

You are quickly divided into four groups, and brought to the easternmost geodesic dome, to an elevator in a well maintained, but sparsely landscaped field. There's nothing particularly ominous feeling about the space — in fact, the two guards who greet you at the elevator entrance seem pleased with your arrival. You are, after all, one of the few chosen by the Director, the few who will reclaim what the Hunger has destroyed.

And in a few moments, you're about to find that out for yourself.

After a tightly packed elevator ride, your group is ushered out to a rather grand looking hall, banners of the Bureau of Balance adorn both sides of smooth metal walls. And inside the Voidfish's chamber stands a tank — impossibly tall, and soaked in a black ink that obscures whatever the tank may be holding.

You may notice a melody, someone playing the violin. It's a bard, on his fourth round of introducing Reclaimers to the Voidfish.

When he's finished, he pulls out a few pieces of paper — sheet music — opens a drawer at the bottom of the tank, drops the papers in, and shuts it.

And swiftly, you feel as if there's something you can't just shake off about the melody you just heard.

If you seem alarmed, the bard takes notice of it.

"Yeah, man, like... don't think too hard about it, it's like that every time. I'm guessing you're here to be inoculated? Just a heads up, you might want to, like, seriously, hold your nose while you drink it down. It tastes wicked gross, man."

You sort of get the sense that he's said this speech once or twice in the past. It's well rehearsed, much like the stories you'd expect a bard to be able to recite.

"Anyway, I'm supposed to tell you that you have a choice. If you drink the black stuff, you'll be able to hear through the, uh... Huh, how do I describe it? Through the [TSHCSCHTSHCHSC] sound. You guys like, hear that? Anyway, it's all about knowledge or something. I don't know, I'm just here to, like, feed the thing. We call it the [TSCHHSCHSCH], by the way.

So, like. You get a choice. You can drink it and understand stuff, or not drink it and then hear that crackling noise all day every day. If I were you, I'd drink it. But, hey man, I'm not like, your dad or anything."

The bard takes five cups and draws liquid from a spigot connected directly to the basin of the large tank. Stormy, muddy looking ichor is drawn into them, one by one. He offers each of you a sip.

Drink it (he wasn't kidding about what it tasted like), and you're inoculated to the wisdom of the Voidfish. You try to remember the song this bard played a few moments ago and the melody, the meter, every octave, all come back to you. And if you think back to your arrival, some of the things you may have heard other people in the Quad say, that simply sounded like static, are suddenly clear. Bureau of Balance. Grand Relic. Reclaimers.

Yet you still can't remember the Hunger or what it had done to your world. And as you look back to the tank in front of you, the water has become clear. There's a jellyfish, as tall as a building, floating within. You look into the body of the creature and you can almost make out a beautiful, tiny universe floating within it.

2. TEST OF INITIATION

You're given approximately 48 hours to sign up for the test of initiation. Outside the Arena is a command console where you can push your biometric signature up against the device, pick a time, and get prepare to take your entrance exam. This one is a little different than the ones before it; the Director has posed a group challenge among her hopeful Reclaimers. One slot contains blank names for four people altogether. Two of them are backlit in a blue background, two in red. It looks like you're going to be competing against other Reclaimers.

At the appointed time, you'll enter the arena's chambers and fill out into one of two rooms. You and your teammate will be allowed to dress and prepare accordingly. From the window, you can see a single, solitary mountain that rises so high you can barely make odds or ends of the peak. An array of items stands before you, four in total. You can only choose two, as the second both of you claim one item, the other two become translucent and untouchable. Placing either of your items back on their pedestals makes them corporeal again. All in all, you have:

○ Booster boots - aids you in climbing and scaling the mountain, quadrupling your jump speed

○ Spiked boots - when landing on a surface of the mountain, it magically locks into place and prevents you from falling or being otherwise deterred in moving upward

○ An enchanted cloth - you're not sure what this is capable of, but if you try it out a little bit, you'll realize it resists the push of air. Essentially, a portable hang glider

○ Grappling hook - standard issue, its reach is about 50 feet. When it locks onto a surface, it's impossible to remove unless a button is pressed on the device to loosen it

Both of your teams must make it to the top. What awaits you there is a wand, standing on an intricately carved, raised dais. The base is made out of stone, but written in very clear, etched letters around the bottom are the words: THE GRAND RELIC, WAND OF PLANAR DISPLACEMENT. Does it sound too good to be true? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. You need to get that relic back down to the entrance room.

The caveat here is if you happen to be tempted, and let's face it, the easy way out is always rather appealing, you can try to use it. It'll take you back down, easily enough, but the wand will not come with you. Looks like you're going to have to trek your way back up there. Either way, the first team to make it down wins the contest. What's the prize, you ask? Gloating rights, mostly.

3. THE REAL CAMPY FUN BEGINS

As The Director mentioned, you will be spending this month on a corporate retreat! And she wasn't kidding when she said she said this retreat will be an exercise in working together. Shortly after the newest Reclaimers are all good and initiated, and shortly after the rest of you have packed what you can, you're all whisked away to Gwynneth — a beautifully lush forest on the Moonshae Isles.

Blanketed in a canopy of lush greens and soft, comfortable grass that seems to grow even in the farthest corners where the light can't reach, the forest looks and feels like something out of a storybook. A peculiar, but not unpleasant, scent that is a blend of sweet olives and cherry blossoms wafts throughout the forest no matter where you turn.

That is to say, for those of you who have been in the Bureau for the while, and are used to roughing it with your BIAS: Welcome! This should be roughly old hat for some of you. Not far from the clearing where you all land are two perfectly lined rows of cabins that are in particularly bad shape. On the door frame of each will contain some information... and you might have guessed it. "BARBARIANS," "FIGHTERS," "PALADINS," "DANCERS," "MONKS," "RANGERS & ROGUES," "BARDS," "SORCERERS," "WARLOCKS," "DRUIDS," "CLERICS," and "SMART PEOPLE." - you get the idea. Each cabin will have just the essentials (creaky bunk beds, chests at the foot of each, and a few spare desks per room). Rest assured, the Director's enchanted the cabins to reject entry to anyone who doesn't fit the proper description that's labeled above each door.

You will... most likely have to clean the place up prior to habitation. Showering, toilets, and mirrors are communal, but divided into stalls in the administrative cabin, adjunct to the Bureau's cabin. And for those of you who don't fit into any of the above (hi Lucas), uh, well. There's an old shack close to where you were dropped off, but you probably don't want to stay inside for too long. It smells like something died in there — and maybe something did.

And boy, does this whole trip have "campy corporate retreat" written all over it. When you arrive, you're informed that your "mission" here, so to speak, is to safely make it through the month's activities, including the penultimate task: Braving what staff is only referring to as the Tomb of Horrors.

But we'll get to that later. Right now, you've got some camping activities to do.

C. GET IN LOSERS WE'RE GOING CAMPING

If there's a camp activity that you can think of, we guarantee that there is space set aside for it, and that a Bureau member The Director brought along to assist the Reclaimers is helping to run it. Here are a few of the more prominent activities to get you started, however:

○ Fight Club/Struggle Tourney/Whatever you want to call it: For those of you who are in clear need of more training, or simply like getting yourself into a good strife, a small arena has been squared and roped off for your said strifing convenience. You can sign up in pairs or go mano a mano against one opponent, but there's a catch.

This activity is about improvising, and learning your fellow Reclaimers' fighting styles — an absolute must for when you're out on the field in the thick of a battle. You will only be allowed to use fighting ring issued weapons. A magical barrier will knock your regular weapon right out of your hands if you try to enter the ring with it!

And, I mean. Who wouldn't want to fight with these Fantasy Costco exclusives? (Note: If you want to join an actual Fight Club, the magic barrier is down for two hours starting at midnight. Use that information how you will.)

○ Arts and Crafts: Another camping given. Stretched out between two large evergreens is an equally large canvas, though short enough that every Reclaimer should be able to reach. You'll be given a paintbrush — magic, of course, according to the Bureau member helping out with this activity. It magically fills itself with paint, allowing you to add color to the canvas without the need for a palette.

Because curiously, it seems you're capable of painting in only one color. And more curiously, it's a color that's very unique to you: no other Reclaimer is going to have the same hex value as what's flowing out of your paintbrush. If you ask her, the Bureau member will smile somewhat pensively, and explain: That paintbrush allows you to paint in the color of whatever energy you're giving off right now. Take this with a grain of salt, of course, but the basic hues can be interpreted as follows:

Red can mean that you have a problem that you need to solve. Yellow means there's a secret that you're keeping from someone important to you. Green elicits a feeling of calmness, but there's something else that you're not allowing yourself to address. Blue means there's something you need to confess, whether it's the fact that you have a crush on someone, or the fact that you stole something or told a lie. White means, simply, an energy at peace.

Of course, you may find yourself painting in any color out there — and they may represent something else, depending on you specifically. Use this prompt however you'd like!

And, that's not to say that these are all things that we need to sit down around the campfire and hash out — though that's an activity later on if you want it! These energies aren't necessarily a bad thing either. It wouldn't be much of a painting, you wouldn't be the person you've grown into right now, if you're always painting in white.

○ Ghost stories: Speaking of campfires, every night, you'll be invited to have a seat at a large campfire and to try to tell your best ghost story. Not too far away from the campfire are four busts of wizardly looking men and women on pedestals. Yes, they are haunted by the very same wizardly looking men and women. And yes, they will be offering frank commentary on whatever story you decide to tell.

I'm just gonna leave this here.

○ Field Day: What's a camping trip without the likes of potato sack races, music, tye-dye booths like you'd find at the typical spring fair, and friendly games of capture the flag? If you find this whole field day thing a little bit childish, then, well ... yeah, you're probably right! But even stuffy old people like Lucretia know that the people even stuffier than she is need a chance to cut loose once in a while. So go right ahead and get yourself a fried charisma oreo.

There's a dunking booth, by the way. Yes, you can dunk the Director if you want.

You might bump into Lucas while you're here. He is having pretty much the worst month right now: sunburned, blown up on histamines and more than ready to go back to the Moon Base where there's air conditioning and technology.

○ Man eff that: If the campy camp activities are a bit too campy for you, then The Director certainly isn't going to twist your arm into participating. Well, actually, she might. A little?

In any case, if you're hellbent on boycotting, you might join Lucas in the aforementioned Smelly Shack, as he tinkers with the tech he managed to bring with him and is generally a pain in the ass about having to be out in the forest. Saru and his band of kitsune, if you remember them from Vista Virs, now full-fledged members of the Bureau, will take you on hunting trips if you're interested. If you need to actually learn how to hunt, then Carey and Killian are here to help.

If you're still gonna be a stick in the corporate retreat mud, then the Director might ask you to clear as big of a path to the Tomb of Horrors as possible (Note: You will not be able to go inside, or find a way inside the Tomb of Horrors, no matter how hard you try. This isn't Breath of the Wild, sadly, you can't defeat Ganon right after falling off the Great Plateau). It's about five miles directly to the east, and behind the thickest and densest part of the forest. Who knows what else you'll find out there? Have fun!

D. AN OVERNIGHT SENSATION

One more thing. Something strange is happening overnight, while everyone is asleep, whether it's in their bedrolls, or holed up in the Smelly Shack.

Something — or someone seems to be draping a blanket of magic over the entire camp, leaving those who were asleep rather susceptible to it. You may find yourself afflicted with any number of inconvenient status effects for the day, whether it's a burn on your arm you can't seem to heal, more, uh. Well. More sleep. You blink, and suddenly, 24 hours have passed. Maybe you enter a 2v2 in the fighting ring and suddenly realize you can't tell friend from foe — even though you'd agreed on the teams before entering.

Maybe all the food suddenly loses its flavor, leaving you to marvel at how intense textures suddenly are. If you happened to be painting in blue, maybe you're suddenly compelled to blurt it out to the next unfortunate soul who passes.

It's a smorgasbord of minor inconveniences. Almost like something's spotted the corporate retreat, and has decided to use its participants as their plaything.

But what?

blurb code by photosynthesis

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Dave is going to say something. And then he isn't. And he's alive, but Dirk knows he was dead. And something—hurts, and he can't stop staring at Dave, and all at once he wants five different things and has no way how to sort through them. He has to speak. What does he say? He wants to know how Dave is alive. He wants to know why Dave is older. Did something happens with the timelines? Is this a Time player thing? Or is this a trick, or somehow, is this his Bro, younger, from his side of the Scratch? He needs to ask something. He needs to say something.]

Hey.

[

Fuck.]

[this is truly the ultimate awkward Dave Strider experience: a kid more than capable of running his mouth at length standing there silently, because the rambling was suddenly turned inward in response to his anxiety. Dave has those answers. he has his own questions, too.]

[but, uh. it sort of looks like he didn't hear Dirk at first, before it occurs to him o say something in return.]

Hey.

[they're nailing this.]

[They sure are. Dirk stares at him a moment longer. He is not thinking about the test, or the mountain, or the items. He is not thinking about beating anyone to the top, which is truly remarkable for a kid as competitive as him.

He is staring at his.... brother? He wants him to be his brother. That gut feeling hits him so hard he feels sick, this baby duckling desire to imprint slamming him straight through, a stupid sentence running through him. Hi, I'm a complete failure and an absolute toxic monster, and I have ruined everything I've ever touched. Do you want to be my brother?

Fuck. He can't do this.]

So. Uh.

I'm Dirk.

[Goddammit. Swallow him up in pixels again.]

[that's as much confirmation as any that the Dirk standing here is, in fact, a brand new splinter — someone new to try to read — and even though he's said a grand total of five words to him, which is hardly enough to gauge whether a person who doesn't tend to emote hates you or not, Dave's kind of having thematically similar thoughts that Dirk is. the desire for any kind of loving family is there. the fear that he's going to get hurt if he tries for it, like he was pretty much his entire childhood, is stronger right this second.]

[two people who ultimately have the same goals (being brothers!) but don't seem to be realizing that right now, if they're not completely blind to it. maybe it's the shades.]

[Dave doesn't say anything for a long, agonizing few seconds.]

Yeah. [god, he's terrible at not sounding a bit like a jackass when he's out of sorts. when he's in sorts, too, honestly. he tries again.]

Uh. Dave. [and then he watches quietly, carefully, hoping that he didn't say something wrong. out of three entire words.]

[God that was so stupid. Of course Dave knows he's Dirk. Dirk is making this awkward.]

Cool.

[Yeah. Cool. They nailed it. He's definitely nailing this.

Shiiiiiiit.]

Uh. Are you... older than sixteen?

[Wait. Is that rude? Or just weird? Fuck.]

[oh. awkwardly, Dave lifts his arms very slightly and looks down at himself, as if that somehow answers Dirk's question? it's true that he's grown a bit over the past year — it just never occurred to him that he looked older. which. um.]

[uh.]

Yeah. [it takes him another solid minute to realize he should clarify.]

I mean, I'll be eighteen this year, which I guess. Well, yeah, that falls under the general definition of "older than sixteen." Well, wait — not general definition, the actual definition; I can't really think of any way to make it work the other way around, not even with time travel.

[oh god save him, the words suddenly just started spilling out.]

[Eighteen? Holy shit. Dirk stares at him for a moment longer. Dave was dead. Dave was definitely dead. Dave's planet was in ruins, and he was, without a doubt, dead. Dead people don't get older. The dream bubbles made that clear enough.]

Is that... a Time player thing?

Is ... [is aging a Time player thing? that's how Dave's interpreting that question. and somewhere in the hot mess that is his thought process right now, it occurs to him that there's a pretty big disconnect going on. well — a disconnect he feels more comfortable addressing.]

[time is, after all, infuriatingly, his thing.]

[he just plops down on the floor where he is. they're hashing this out on the floor, apparently. the test can wait.]

I dunno. There's lots of things that you could say is a Time player thing, but I've got no idea which one you're referring to. So ... what do you mean?

[Now he feels stupid. Which is embarrassing. Which he fucking hates, because he's an idiot, but he doesn't want Dave to know he's an idiot, and it's almost physical, the way Dirk draws back a fraction, as if trying to put space between himself and his mistakes or maybe just between himself and the inevitable rejection.]

No, I mean, you're... older? Than the other players from your session. Aren't you?

[God this is uniquely terrible. This is nothing like he pictured it, not in his most hopeful moments and, frankly, not in his most pessimistic ones, either. They're supposed to be climbing a mountain.]

[Dave, for his part, sort of feels like he's fucked something up. by ... aging? but he doesn't know what else to do aside from keep talking; at least now he has a crumb of a hint to what's causing Dirk's confusion.]

Yeah. It's ... kind of a long story, but I haven't seen anything, or anybody, from that session for a year at this point.

[that doesn't really answer the "but you were dead" thing, Dave. but there's something in his tone that's almost apologetic. like he really wants to help here, but he's equally ready to accept that he's making it worse.]

A year?

[And now you're on to stupidly repeating things. Wow, Strider. Really nailing the first impression thing here. Dirk runs a hand through his hair, realizes it's an obvious gesture, and then forces his hand back down to his side. He really doesn't understand what's going on, and part of him wants to ask but the rest of him is choking on the idea when he's already made such a goddamned fool of himself. He opens his mouth to ask instead if anyone else is here, but Dave said he hadn't seen anyone in a year. Except, no. He also said he hadn't seen anyone from that session?

Goddammit.]

I... Okay, so give me a break on how completely uncool this is. But can you tell me what's going on?

[it's sort of the weirdest fucking thing to latch onto, but Dave is ... oddly calmed by Dirk's admission here. if Bro ever managed to do something that could have been defined as "uncool" by his own code, then he never would have owned up to it. at least, not in Dave's presence.]

[it's enough to get him to recenter, slow down the panic roll enough to realize that they're not going to get out of here unless they climb that mountain, they have to at least try instead of standing here panicking for eternity (though that's certainly a completely reasonable course of events, too). he breathes out a sigh, trying to calm down.]

It's cool, dude. Uh. You can sit if you want. [that's less of an offer and more of a request.]

[Well, Dave didn't laugh in his face. So that's probably good. Right?

Dirk sits on the ground. Elegant. Very cool, cool as all fuck.]

Yeah. Uh, at your leisure. ['At your leisure.' What the fuck. God, it's even worse saying things on the ground. He should just lie down. He should give up, and lie down, and surrender all hope of ever having any human connections again for the rest of his too-prolonged life.

Dirk just lies down.]

[Dave has no idea how to interpret that splatting on the ground Dirk is doing. it's actually pretty similar to how Rose sometimes reacted when something really dumb was going on somewhere on the meteor — or she was just having a crisis over her feelings about Kanaya or something.]

[actually, Dave had no idea how to interpret it when Rose did this, either.]

[he elects to just keep talking. at his leisure. okay.]

I guess ... About a year ago, the same thing that just happened to you happened to me? I got randomly taxi'd to an entirely different universe. And I guess ... the rules about, uh. Death and shit don't really transfer when you go to an entirely different plane of existence.

Oh.

[Very intelligent. Fuck it, he's on the floor now. It doesn't matter how stupid he sounds. He could say anything, who cares? His friends are dead and nothing matters and the rules are bullshit. So he can just let himself sound like an idiot.

He still doesn't want to sound stupid in front of Dave.]

So... you got saved. [Okay. Okay. A year ago, Dave was saved. That's time bullshit. That works. So who else—

No. Dave said no one else from their session. Fuck.]

Is it... just us?

No. Terezi's out there somewhere, but she's from a different timeline than me. Us? She's from the alpha timeline.

[yup, absolutely more time bullshit.]

I mean ... for a while there, anyway, I thought I was the only one who really managed to safely get out of ... that session. Before it all got eaten or something. But, uh.

[fuck, he's blurting something out and he doesn't know if it's wanted. but he also can't quite stop himself.]

But you're here now? So, that's something.

[That's... one of the trolls, probably? He thinks he kind of vaguely remembers her from that time he was (became?) the splinter of him in Jake's head. Or whatever.

God, his existence is so stupid.

Then Dave says something extra, something more. And Dirk sits up enough to look at him.]

Is it? Something.

[A good something? A bad one? He has no idea, but there was this little flutter of that duckling desire to imprint again and he asked the stupid question before he could stop himself, and now he has to live with it.]

[man, these shades have never been more useful. aside from the fact that Dave just plain likes them, they're hiding something that would probably make, at least, this very first encounter even more awkward than it already is.]

[because behind them, his eyes are wide. almost like he's terrified he's said something wrong and he's about to reap however many years' worth of karma for it. he wants to say yes — but also, please don't hurt him.]

... Yeah. [it's hard to explain; it doesn't sound like an agreement just for the sake of agreement. it sounds a bit like he means it. whatever it is he actually means.]

[it's ... better than nothing. it's him saying that he's glad to see Dirk here, someone from his timeline who would probably understand, even if he can't quite figure out how to word it. awkwardly, Dave runs a hand through his hair, playing at the fluff of his bangs.]

[That... is not elucidating. Shit.]

Right.

[Shit.]

I... cool.

[Man, the ground sure is comfortable! He's going back to that.

[Dave kind of watches him for a moment, not sure what he should say or do, until .... you know what?]

[you know what. Dirk has the right idea. he flops down on his back, too. two awkward Striders on the floor, at least one of them with his wrist to his face as he texts someone.]

[what feels like hours pass. but it's actually just an extremely, agonizingly awkward ten minutes of silence before Dave finally works up the courage to say something else.]

I think the other team's probably won.

[It's a very long ten minutes. They're super cool during every single second of it.

Dirk, whose eyes had shut closed to embrace of the complete and total failure he had made of his life, opens said eyes back up. But he doesn't look towards Dave.]

Yeah. Probably. We should get on our half of it.

[But. But. Dirk started speaking, and now all the caveats are spilling out.]

Under the circumstances, it's difficult to conjure up the motivation. It feels sort of counterintuitive to need to prove my worthiness for a mission that I was essentially conscripted into with zero alternative courses forward when everyone I ever cared about saving is dead because I never brought anything of worth to the table anyway.

[Well. Almost. Dirk does acknowledge that.]

I mean, everyone but you, and it isn't like I haven't been waiting my whole life for the opportunity to meet you and prove my mettle to you, but everyone I've ever known dying in a clusterfuck I failed to prevent wasn't the context I'd pictured, and I think by this point we've established exactly what I'm capable of proving, which is to say jack shit.

So, like. You can go on without me, is what I'm saying, I guess? It'll probably go better that way. The Director can throw me in the space brig for moon insubordination or whatever. It's not a big deal.

[Dirk shuts up then. But at this point, he's almost too tired to care about how awful everything he said is.]

[it's Dave's turn to sit up, because that was some straight up awful and dark shit that he doesn't know what to do with; he had a hard enough time sorting himself out on that three-year meteor trip, much less anybody else. which is probably why the thing he winds up focusing on is:]

You ... want to prove your worth to me.

[that's a notion that's so wildly different than how he'd always viewed his own Bro that it's... well, it's enough to make Dave think that in his desperate attempts to read the guy flopped on the floor in front of him, that he'd gone and misread him anyway. tried to put too much of a terrible person on a dude's shoulders, someone who didn't really deserve that — no matter how much he might argue that it's still him. he doesn't really give a shit about the rules of splinters right now.]

[this isn't Dave's test to pass, though, and even if it weren't someone he desperately wishes he could have some sort of familial relationship with, he'd probably still at least. try to untangle this mess? run as much risk of making it worse as he does unraveling it.]

You don't need to prove anything to me, dude. [there's only one person on this Moon Base that he is comfortable being 1,000 percent sincere around, doesn't mind sharing his feelings with, and that's enough to encourage him to aim for at least 100 percent around someone who deserves it.]

I mean, unless you feel like proving your mountain climbing chops or something. But, I'm being kind of unfair — on a lot of different things that I don't really know how to get into. I've had a year to try to process everything that happened back in our session, and I just —

[ho boy. he pauses, then tries again.]

When I said that it's something, it is. It's something because ... I'm not alone anymore, I guess? You'd probably get where I'm coming from better than anybody — and I dunno, maybe it's the same for you. Or, I could do the same for you. Terezi understood, because she's got a bunch of different memories from different timelines jumbled up in her Mind powers or whatever, but it's not the same.

Also, I don't really know what the space jail visitation rules are and I'd rather not find out when I could just climb a mountain and tell you about some dumb magic bullshit that's happened since I got here.

— Wow. That was a sorry fuckin' attempt at a joke. You can forget I said that last thing if you want.

[Oh. Somewhere in the middle of that, Dirk realizes he should sit up too. So he does, staring at Dave as Dave says... so many words. Dirk understands all of them on a literal level, but so many of them feel contextually foreign that he doesn't think he can process them on a broader level.]

Oh.

[Eloquent. He wants to reply to the joke but that's difficult so what he says stupidly is,]

I've always kind of wanted to break out of jail?

[uh]

I don't know. It always seemed like a fun thing to do.

[So it's back to an ordinary level of sounding stupid, Dirk guesses. He still hasn't processed what Dave is saying, exactly. It feels unfair to say, "Hey, I have no will to live, but I think you might be uniquely positioned to help me find some kind of motivation to dodge a pixellated abdication from existence. Do you think you could keep saying I might have some level of utility to you until I stop wanting to die?" Unfair, and also stupid and crazy.

So a comment about jailbreak goals it is.]

.... I dunno why, but that's like. The least surprising thing you've said to me all day.

[which would mean that "I'm Dirk" was apparently more surprising. it's very small, but as he pulls himself back to his feet, there's at least some tiny hint of amusement there. maybe it's somewhere in that last sentence. maybe it's in the way he carries it in his shoulders.]

[he'd probably agree to be a motivator by way of simply existing, too, if it were asked of him, but that agreement goes unsaid, too. Dave knows how much he tends to internalize things, and it's not that difficult to draw the same conclusions about Dirk, considering he kind of just. went and made it all external anyway. but yeah, all right. he'll be the grand relic sitting at the top of the mountain, something to help pull Dirk of the giant pit he's in right now.]

[Dave sort of looks like he wants to offer Dirk some help up. he pauses, second guessing himself.]

You, uh. You want a hand?

My name was more surprising?

[Did alternate universe him not give his name? Whatever. He thinks, maybe, that he reads a hint of amusement on Dave's face. It isn't like Dirk didn't spend so much of his early life trying to read the wealth of human experience on the face of another version of Dave, trying to attune himself to his hero from the distance of four hundred years.

Amusement would be nice. He'd like to think it's there.

He knows what he's supposed to say. He doesn't need anyone's help getting up. He's fine. He's always fine. He's cool, even, and a Strider knows how to pick himself back up off the ground no matter how many times he gets knocked down.

Dirk instead replies,]

If... that's cool? Sure.

[There's more hesitation to the hand he holds out than he wants there to be. But he still holds it out to let himself be helped.]

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kinda suicidal stuff

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