driftfleet | 'cause it's better than nothing

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'cause it's better than nothing

[ Calibration Rooms ]
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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - P

Otono-Tachibana Makie

Q - S

Sandalio "Biffy" de Rabiffano

T - V

W - Z

(last updated: 1/25/19)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She flinches, unable to help it, as the static and the sharp pinch of electricity wars with her will to keep this up. She doesn't break contact, though, moving her hands to wind around his wrists - of the version who's looking down - and try to shake his attention from his hands to her face. She ducks her head as well, forcing herself into his field of view.]

Taako! Taako! It's me, it's Lup, wake up! It's your sister! I've got you!

[She's growing more desperate as the seconds pass, as if she could shake the confusion and the voidfish static out of his mind through her presence alone. She knows it doesn't work like that, but it's not as if anything else is working. She has to try.]

[When she grabs his wrists, another version of him appears, glitching just as badly as the rest. He's younger in this one, no red robe, nothing but well-patched clothes and a determined but sad look on his face. This version of him is staring at the objects scattered around the room, pointing at nothing in particular, but everything at once.

The version she's holding? Is stuck in its pattern of staring, not seeing her even when she crosses his field of vision. It continues to stare while the second version of him keeps talking.]

Ȋ̶̦̫̳̎̇́̅̽̅̾͒͐̚͝'̴̢̻͎̮̪͚̜͉͈̹͔͓̝͇̙͂̅̽̽̉̃̋m̴̢̩̰̼̥͔̱͈̪̱͖̝͓͋͝ ̷̥̘̳̻͚̼͖͑͗͐̊͌̉̀̈́̋̂͝a̴̢͔̝̯̟̅̋̐̂̍̌͂n̶̩̊ ̴̛͔́̃̀͐̈́̋̀̈́̎̎͗͌́͘ǫ̴̛̰̖̮̭̻̻̝͛͗́͐͐͜ͅn̷͈̣͔̄͆̽̊̈̅͗͂̈́̾͘l̵̠̺͙̥͓̦̪̎̈̆̄̈́͗͆͝y̸̧̱̫̜͎̪̮̹̘̌̉̿̂̂̐̕ ̷̢̯͕͙̝̦̩̲͕̺̟̞̩̂̅̈́͜c̴̢̡̝̰̻̯̎̌͒ȟ̴͈̖͈̤͚̱̻̳̹̭͉̘͖̞̿̊̑͐͒̾̾̋̕̚̕͝͠i̵̢̯̬̳͍̝͔̘͍̿̇̀̊͂̔͗́̅̀̕ͅl̵̮̊̀̈́͌͋͆̚d̵̛̛̫̯̞̻͕͒͋̍͛̔̀̀͜͝͝͝͠.̵̡̳̜̦͂̐̕͝ ̴̛̛̘͚̣̰̂̓̿̐͊͒͂͘͝W̴͓̮̣̻̹̳̯̰̅͜h̴͔͇̪̋̍͊ȏ̶̬͚̙̌̂͂̓̋̆̐͘͘ ̴̻͉̼̝͛̉̓̏̀̔̿̂̀̓͊̈́͘ͅỉ̶̛̯̌͒̈́̌́̐̕̕ś̶̨͎͚͍͒̒̀̐̑̅͌̊ ̸̛̛̪̤̫͙̤̙̜͖̬̤̊̊̃̽͆̽̀̀͝ͅL̴̢̛̘̥̽͐͋͌̌̑̒͋̄͝ṷ̶̟̩̻͉͇̯̰͕̙͕̗̞̥͊͜p̵̙̦̯͕͗̽̌̅͑͊͂̀̅͘͘?̴̧͖̣̰͎̺̙̠̻̬͒̒͠ͅ ̶̛̲͚̰͈̣̅̄̓̌̒͗͋̑Ŵ̴̝̻̓̾́͂̈h̸̡͉̜͍̩̙̗̩̼̩̪̓͗̒͑̚͝a̴̧͔̳͑̂͌̒͂͆͠t̷̛̛̤̣̝̩͐̋̒͌̚̕ ̴̬̣̭͑͊́̅̀̈́͂̽́̓̈͆̚͝î̶̡̡͔̲͉̻̰̲̖̥s̷̡̮̝̞̭͈̦̱͇̼̿̍ ̷̛̗̬̮͓̻̥̥̣͈͈̮̖̣̞̇̆͊̈́̐̔̇͘̚͜͠͝͠t̷̺͒͐̒͋̓́̀̉̄͠ĥ̴̨̫̫͈̓͆̉̆́̔̈́̊͐̊̾͝i̷͔͇̝̦͓̙̬̼̪̻̼͓̒͂́̆̏͜s̵̡̰̪̪̹̗̙͈̠̤̠̓̃͜?̴̭͂́̃̿̈́̌̏̊̃̕

[The static burns in her ears as much as the words ache in her chest, and with some reluctance she lets go of the one that isn't giving her any response and turns towards the red robed figure. He's doubting her, but at least he's acknowledging her.

She closes the distance between them and reaches up to touch his face, holding his cheeks, bringing her own face up close to his. Force him to see the resemblance, maybe trigger some buried memory. Her voice is softer this time, urgent but struggling to keep her frustration in check.]

You're not. You're not! Taako, look at me- I've got your face, I share your memories, I was there! You know why that is, don't you?

[She'll keep trying, she'll go to every single one of them if she has to. There has to be a way to figure this out, to help him.]

[Her touch fragments him again and a fifth figure appears, small and young, huddled in on himself against the counter. It has its hands up over its ears, eyes squeezed shut, the static getting worse.

The one she's holding is staring at her, but can't track her movements. It still stares at where she used to be and while it can talk, the glitching is getting worse - color draining out of it, the red robe going dull, and entire swathes of him turning to gray static.

The one at the stove is almost completely eaten by it, the third one is dissolving, and the fourth is still pointing at the countertop.]

Į̸͚̣͙͙̰̞͛͊ ̵̢̻͖̹͖̞̘̗̪͈̰͑̀͆̌̀͆̓͒͒͘̚͠͝d̶̘̈͆̌̀̃o̵͈̻͕̖͓͙͆̅͆̈̎̒̓̈́͒̾̽̾͘͝ñ̷̛̛̤̲̻̙̝̺̲͉̼̯͖̅̈͗̇̆̍̾͒̈́͌͝'̸̝̭̘̲͈̀͆́̕ṯ̶̡̛͉̯͉̤͍̫͇̲͋̀̽̉̒̋̽̾̀̐̓̓͝-̸̨̟͔̰͇͇̣̥͎̞͌-̴̧̛̯̖̦̟̘̯̗̓͐̿̏͛̀̈͆̌͜ ̷̲̥͈̬͚̦̥̟̜̠̞̼͓͙̮̈ ̴̢̫̤̘̝̙͕͈̗̮̪͚̹͚̉͂̍̑̂̓̓̅́͛̆̕̚ͅI̷̡͉̝̳̖͔͑̿̿̌͒́̇́̈́̀͠ ̶̧̛̲̱̤̘̯̭͒̉͋̀̄̓̈̈́̀͒͘̕͝c̵̞͎͚̫̞̹̽̆̄͐̃̏ḁ̷̮͖̝̈́͗̀̀͊͛́̄̍̄̕͘͝ͅn̷͉̗̼̹̹͇͚̳͉̗̿̓̃̈̀̃̂̇̏̕̚̚͜͠'̴͚͕̩̂͐̇̋̄͑̇̿̔̈́̊t̷̎̓̌̉͜-̸̢̱̱̱͖̼͓̺̲̺͇̙̘̪͗̈͜-̷̢̻͎̻͚̥̩̣͓͎̜̺͐͑͋̃̇͂̿̾ ̵̭͖̓Ļ̶͙̫͇͇̮̘̮̟͇̈̈́̇̂ų̶͎̫͑͂̓͗͌̋̐͂́͌̎̚͠ṗ̴̨͈̭̲͉̝͕̤͈̖̳̜͍̋͛̈́͊̀̀̽̄̏̀̈́̚̕͝?̷̧̨͉̰͇̟͒̋̄̌̀̀̕͘̕ ̸̢̧̝̬͇̖̩̞̬̼̦̉̔̉̈̈̈́̌͑̽͜͜͠ͅL̵̨̧͖̠̞̂͒͆̕̚u̵̡̡͕̰̮͈̯̦̞̯͎̲͋͊̈̃ͅp̴̡̛̭̋͛̒̿̐̂̑̈̂̈́͂̈́̕,̶̧̧̛̞̰̰͔̤̺̝͚̯̗̙̥͛̐͘ ̶̡͈͉̜̯̣̟̠̏̓͌ẇ̸̡̤̥͚̼͉̻̼̗̊̀̅̉̚͝ḫ̴̣̜͔̯͔̳̞̫́̍́̈́̑̒̃͒̓̀̽̎̊͘͝a̴͉͎͒̈́͌͒́̓̄͋͛̈́̀͌͝͠t̸̛̟̯͍͆́͗͝'̶̢̟̠̹̙̺̹̟̳̋́ş̵͔̩͉̤͍̱̝͇͙̖͒̎͑̓̉̄͊̕ͅ ̵̢̡̨̗̹̦̣̑̊̑͋̽͛̍̿͐̔́͗̕ͅh̶͚̍̀̅̋͂͋̔̑̇͐̂͊́͝͝a̴̡̺̝̯͛̔̈́͑͛̔̈̎̋̿͠p̵̨̡̖̹̺̰̮̏̈́̋p̶̩͕͉̘̫̖̲̖̋̽͊̽̏͛͆̊͌͒̕̕͘͝é̴̡̻̟̙̝̯͇̘̗̋̐͌̽̄̈́ͅn̴̫̺̦̭̟̫̳͂̂̒͘̕ȋ̴̢̛̝̯̥̹̭̤̹̲̫̓̈́̾̏̊̎̋͊̇̚n̸̗̯̳̱̭̺̆̓́̐̿̓̋̌̆͜͝͝g̸̦͔̱̭̹̼̜̈́́̑̕̕͠?̴̫͖͉̯̪́͛̏̈̅̔̈̆͐̀̈́̀̕ ̴̳̼̗̰̜̑̆́͋͌̈͑̋͆́̈́̆̃Ţ̷̻̹̫͚̻͊̀͐͛̀̆̔̀͌̂̓h̵̥̜͉̘͚͔̓̏̌i̶͓̗͋̈́̅̀̊̀͆ͅś̸̢̻̖̣̰̖̣̝͛̑̿͂̄̈́͂̀͝ͅͅ ̶̢͙̼͈̙̙̹͎͓̩̱̠̬͛̍̕h̷̡̲̳̮͔̺̞̬͎̰̗͋̽́u̸͕͓̤͗̐̍́͜͠r̶̡̭͖͉̖̼͍̝̣̳̞̝͎̊̎̂͜ţ̵̛̮͍̠̩͕͔̈́͆̊͛́̐̌̊̅̇̎͌͜͝ş̸̯̜͕̺̠͎͚̒͛ ̶͔̪̰̥̫̙̙̎-̵̨̯̯͕̺̝̻̩̺̺̥̿̓͐͌̂̌̆ ̴̡͇̫̹͎̫͔̏ẁ̵̜̱̼̼̳̜͉̭̰̮̟̥̺̼́̆͗͐̏̅͋̍͛̑̈́̓ḧ̶̛̳́͛͊̎̆̊͂̈́ă̵̡̜̱̳̈́̋͂̾̀̒̃̒́̾̕͝͠t̵̮͍͎̱͗͗̊̀̓͊̊'̸̘̔͊̈́͆̊͌̃̋͊͂͛͘ś̸̡̛̬̜͎̘͉̣̯̯̰̻̯͚̀̈́͊̽ ̵̯̪̃̕͘ḧ̵̬͙̠͓̰͚́̽̄̀̅̑á̸̡̪̪̙͚̘̜̾̈́̍͗̂̚͠p̵͓̫̙͎͓̫͖̗̥̫͚͇̮̙͌̒́̂̆̋̏̚͜ṕ̸͇̯͈͍̘͇̯͙̙̭͙̦̣͎̃͗́̌͊̏̃͌ͅe̶̢̥̯̳̙̤͓̾́̍̌́̄̈́̐͜͝ͅǹ̶̨̢̰̖̭̜̩̭̉͆͑̄́̃̈̇́̅͝͠͝i̷̡̝̙̠̙̦̰̖̫̿́͐̿̑̄͝͠ṅ̶̡̌͑́̀́̀̽̈͊̌̄̀̕͝g̷̡̓̕?̴̬̹̫̥͚͈̽͜ͅͅ

[She can't even make the words out between the static anymore, the noise deafening, and a pained gasp escapes her lips as she lets go and stumbles backwards, hands over her ears. She doesn't know, she doesn't know! Is this just the price they have to pay for her to get somewhere, or is this making everything worse!? It doesn't feel right, this pain, the way he's fragmenting further, the way the static is practically fighting back against her, but she can't see any way but forward.

Once more. Keep going, once more. Grimacing, she stumbles towards the counter, where one is pointing, and with a shudder and a quiet cry she wraps her arms around the smallest figure, attempting to draw him close to her. She doesn't say anything this time; her words would just drown in the static, anyway. Instead she lets her presence speak for itself.]

[Trying to hold the smallest version of him is like trying to hug the air. There's resistance that gives the figure a feeling of substance, but it gives away too easily, her arms passing through. Touching it sends out a sixth projection, this one of him at Refuge, wearing the BoB bracer and a skirt, looking down at the ground in horror as something emerges from below. The first image of him is completely gone, the second nearly eaten completely away. The third still stares at a patch of static where its hands used to be. The fourth is still pointing at the counter full of objects. The one she's holding hasn't moved, hands over its ears but still mostly itself.

The roar of static is louder than ever, deafening in the small space. It repeats after awhile, a single word, over and over.]

W̵̨̨̢̮̦̣͔͈͇̭͈̥̽͋̋͗̈́̃͋̑͆̓̄͊̈́̌ ̶̰͉͚̲͖̩̯͛̓͆̑̇̓͒̏͝h̶̢̛͇͉̣̗̯̰͈̤̼̱̣͇͎͛̉̈́̽̀͊̚͝ ̵͍̅́͗̀̑͗͘ơ̵̧̧͉̘̹̙̘̙̜̫̟̟̱͙̐̄̏͗̔́́̓̒͐̽͑̐̀ ̸̭̳̟̎͒̀̄́?̵̳̤͆͊͗

[She tries to hold on. She tries so hard, moving her body this way and that, hands trying to find purchase, following every indication of something tangible, shifting her focus when it dissolves in her fingers. She whispers his name, her name, trying to get some sort of reaction beyond the static, but there's nothing. Just that word. That fucking word, haunting them at every turn.

You won't even let him have my name? Why...?

Her head is pounding, like someone's using it as a cymbal in some crazy fantasy punk band, like it's being dragged against the side of a cliff, bones grinding on stone, reverberating through her whole body. With a noise halfway between a gasp and a sob she finally jerks away, dropping to her knees on the floor, her hands pressed firmly against both ears, and just... curls up, echoing the crouched figure's posture. The static is too loud, pounding and pounding away in her head, like some kind of deafening spell dealing psychic damage to her goddamned soul. She can't keep going like this, it's too much. There's too many of him, she doesn't know where to turn, she can't fix this. The fact that she's been erased is the root of so much fragmentation in his history, and trying to tear those walls down is just making everything worse for him.]

Stop it... [It starts out as a whisper, rising in volume as she echoes it, over and over, blinking back tears.] Stop it, stop it, stop it! Stop it! I'm sorry! I don't know what to do, I'm sorry...!

[The sound reaches a crescendo and then it all goes silent.

The emptiness it leaves behind is almost deafening on its own, an uneasy quiet despite the fact that nothing else has changed. The fragments of him are everywhere now. Each time she touched him, another version of Taako appeared, each one in different stages of his life - young versions of him looking defiant and alone and scared and brave and hurt, and older versions of him fighting, using the Umbra Staff, wearing a red robe, laughing without any real mirth, cooking. They're covered in static, now paused like a video screen, and all of them are staring in different directions. Except one.

This one is hurt, with bandages around his middle, cuts across his face. It's the version of him that's most recent, from his botched attempt at getting home. This one is standing right in front of her, looking down at Lup as she huddles on the floor. It's sad in a way Taako would never let himself be in real life, a raw aching pain etched into every feature of his face. He watches Lup in the oppressive silence for a moment and then he speaks. There's no sound, but his mouth moves slowly and deliberately so she can read his lips.

I wish I could remember you.

Then all of the versions of him vanish as the color drains from the room, back to its original setting. The vision of him standing stock still at the soup pot comes back up, paused mid stir, and the door to the wagon swings opens.]

[Lup is too stunned to say or do anything for a long, long moment, her ears still ringing, until eventually she lowers her hands to press against the floor and drag herself back to her feet. Her knees feel weak and shaky, as if the life and energy of her body had been drained out by the static noise. Those words... he hadn't said them, but they echo in her mind all the same. I wish, I wish. She wants to ask, but he's gone already, leaving behind only the one she'd seen when she first arrived here, frozen in time.

She reaches out towards him, hand coming within inches of his back. She pauses, lowers it. Tries again, her body trembling, before finally withdrawing entirely.]

...I wish you could, too.

[Her voice is barely a whisper, and before she can even find out if the remaining fragment of her brother responds, she turns and runs right out of the wagon, as fast as her legs will carry her, slamming the door behind her.

She doesn't belong here. As long as that wall of static remains, there's no place for her.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'cause it's better than nothing

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