- Pronoun
- they or she
-
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Whispers of Andre and Ridley
- Thread starter Jackie Cat
- Start date
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
The quiet darkness faded slowly. What it revealed was... a bar. A bar filled with mostly humans, but some pokémon as well, mostly humanoid. Their conversing voices were muffled, as if heard behind a wall, though they were right there. The same went for the club music playing through the speakers.
The strangest part wasn't the soundscape, however. It was that everything in the bar was in black and white, even the gay pride flag hanging above the counter. Or, no, there was one man - a white twenty-something with bleached dreads and a red vest with the initials 'MT' stitched in. Some gold chains, thin and unimpressive, hung around his neck, glistening in the light of the colorless lamp above. The man seemed to be browsing his smartphone, an annoyed expression on his face.
If Ridley looked at himself, he would also find out that he was in his old human body, apparently dressed for a night out. He, too, was in color.
The strangest part wasn't the soundscape, however. It was that everything in the bar was in black and white, even the gay pride flag hanging above the counter. Or, no, there was one man - a white twenty-something with bleached dreads and a red vest with the initials 'MT' stitched in. Some gold chains, thin and unimpressive, hung around his neck, glistening in the light of the colorless lamp above. The man seemed to be browsing his smartphone, an annoyed expression on his face.
If Ridley looked at himself, he would also find out that he was in his old human body, apparently dressed for a night out. He, too, was in color.
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Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
...what?
Of all the things Ridley might have expected from a dungeon, this hadn't been on the list.
Ridley checked his hands, splaying them out before him: thumb and four fingers, bitten nails with cheap black nail varnish, dark hairs playing from the thick forearms to the back of the hands and creeping up the fingers. His hands. His human hands.
He slapped both hands to his shoulders, caught his braid in one of them, checked it: half his natural brown, half dye-fried pink. He let it drop.
The only other spot of colour in this world was a man sitting at the bar. The music thumped in Ridley's ears, oddly distant. Ridley could hear himself think but wasn't sure what he was supposed to be thinking about. He raised a forearm to his mouth and bit down hard.
Pain. Upon releasing his arm: the indentation of his teeth, visible.
Okay. Fine. So. Not a dream, then. This was what was happening. Okay.
Ridley slid in next to the colourful man.
"Hey, are you Andre?" he asked. Even as he said it, Ridley suspected he was wrong about that. Andre seemed like the kind of guy who'd worry about dreads on white people being cultural appropriation. How did the dungeon decide how to pair people with each other, anyway? Ridley rattled his brain, trying to recall who else had been in the group. Koa seemed too young, but - "Archie?"
Of all the things Ridley might have expected from a dungeon, this hadn't been on the list.
Ridley checked his hands, splaying them out before him: thumb and four fingers, bitten nails with cheap black nail varnish, dark hairs playing from the thick forearms to the back of the hands and creeping up the fingers. His hands. His human hands.
He slapped both hands to his shoulders, caught his braid in one of them, checked it: half his natural brown, half dye-fried pink. He let it drop.
The only other spot of colour in this world was a man sitting at the bar. The music thumped in Ridley's ears, oddly distant. Ridley could hear himself think but wasn't sure what he was supposed to be thinking about. He raised a forearm to his mouth and bit down hard.
Pain. Upon releasing his arm: the indentation of his teeth, visible.
Okay. Fine. So. Not a dream, then. This was what was happening. Okay.
Ridley slid in next to the colourful man.
"Hey, are you Andre?" he asked. Even as he said it, Ridley suspected he was wrong about that. Andre seemed like the kind of guy who'd worry about dreads on white people being cultural appropriation. How did the dungeon decide how to pair people with each other, anyway? Ridley rattled his brain, trying to recall who else had been in the group. Koa seemed too young, but - "Archie?"
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canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
So where was Andre in all this?
The bar itself was clearly a gay bar. Even if the greyscaled six-striped flag above the counter hadn't suggested it, the denizens themselves would have. Human men and humanoid pokemon. Something in Ridley recoiled at the thought, but hadn't Andre made it clear that pokemon were people in his world?
Ridley flicked his eyes around, but the other guy - Mike - continued to be the only spot of colour in this landscape.
Okay, then. Without any real idea of what he was supposed to be doing, Ridley might as well play along and see where it took him.
"Ah," Ridley said. "Sorry, I'm new in the area. A couple friends of mine recommended this place to me, but it seems neither of them are here tonight." He nodded towards the bar and said, "You got any recommendations? I'll buy you a drink if you help me out. What's good here?"
The bar itself was clearly a gay bar. Even if the greyscaled six-striped flag above the counter hadn't suggested it, the denizens themselves would have. Human men and humanoid pokemon. Something in Ridley recoiled at the thought, but hadn't Andre made it clear that pokemon were people in his world?
Ridley flicked his eyes around, but the other guy - Mike - continued to be the only spot of colour in this landscape.
Okay, then. Without any real idea of what he was supposed to be doing, Ridley might as well play along and see where it took him.
"Ah," Ridley said. "Sorry, I'm new in the area. A couple friends of mine recommended this place to me, but it seems neither of them are here tonight." He nodded towards the bar and said, "You got any recommendations? I'll buy you a drink if you help me out. What's good here?"
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
"Oh, alright," Mike said. He seemed a little disappointed that Ridley hadn't responded with whether or not he'd heard of him, let alone positively, but he covered it with another smirk. "Don't worry. Stick with me and you'll have a good time." He leaned past Ridley to look at the bar. "Uhh... well, I've never been good with those frilly drinks. I just get beer." He pointed to an empty pint next to him.
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
"Of course," Ridley said agreeably. He flagged down the bartender and ordered a couple pints of whatever they had on tap.
Hey, Betel? Betel, can you hear me? Are you there?
"So, what do people do in this town for fun?" He raised his glass. "Besides talking to fascinating strangers at a bar, of course."
Hey, Betel? Betel, can you hear me? Are you there?
"So, what do people do in this town for fun?" He raised his glass. "Besides talking to fascinating strangers at a bar, of course."
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canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
"Of course," Ridley agreed. Wyndon, then, but not the Wyndon Ridley knew, not if humanoid pokemon were in this bar, acting like any person would. Why was Ridley here? Where was Andre in all this?
"Excuse me for a second," he said, hopping to his feet. "My friend, you know, he was supposed to meet me here, so I've gotta go check..."
Ridley headed towards the exit of the bar.
"Excuse me for a second," he said, hopping to his feet. "My friend, you know, he was supposed to meet me here, so I've gotta go check..."
Ridley headed towards the exit of the bar.
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
As Ridley got further from Mike, the world around him seemed to darken. The pressure of the air around him seemed to increase, a headache began budding, and the sounds of the bar became more distorted. The further he went, the more oppressive the feeling got.
He could still keep going... but should he?
He could still keep going... but should he?
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
Ridley felt the weight of the world against his skin, heavy and oppressive. Did that mean he was doing something right? Was the dungeon trying to prevent him and Andre from pairing up?
He pushed forwards, trying to ignore the way his building headache throbbed at his temples. "Andre," he called. "Andre, are you there? Where are you?"
He pushed forwards, trying to ignore the way his building headache throbbed at his temples. "Andre," he called. "Andre, are you there? Where are you?"
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
The atmosphere grew heavier and heavier and the world turned darker and darker, until --
In a blink, Ridley was back at the table. The world was normal again - or, well, as normal as it was before, the colors still drained from his surroundings and the bar's noises muffled.
"Well, Wyndon's a big place," Mike said, with the exact cadence as before. "I'm sure you can find all kindsa people here. Me, though, I'm a trainer. Though that's not 'for fun'. Nah, that's a lifestyle."
In a blink, Ridley was back at the table. The world was normal again - or, well, as normal as it was before, the colors still drained from his surroundings and the bar's noises muffled.
"Well, Wyndon's a big place," Mike said, with the exact cadence as before. "I'm sure you can find all kindsa people here. Me, though, I'm a trainer. Though that's not 'for fun'. Nah, that's a lifestyle."
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
Wait.
What.
Mike's words were a low hum in Ridley's ear, barely distinguishable over the background noise.
Ridley found himself on his feet without having meant to move. His gaze flicked from left to right, up to down, window to window. Himself and Mike were the only spots of colour in this greyscale world.
Hadn't Mike said this already? "Hey," Ridley said absently, fairly sure he was cutting off whatever Mike was saying but not really caring. "How about we go somewhere else. You've gotta know better places than this, right?"
What.
Mike's words were a low hum in Ridley's ear, barely distinguishable over the background noise.
Ridley found himself on his feet without having meant to move. His gaze flicked from left to right, up to down, window to window. Himself and Mike were the only spots of colour in this greyscale world.
Hadn't Mike said this already? "Hey," Ridley said absently, fairly sure he was cutting off whatever Mike was saying but not really caring. "How about we go somewhere else. You've gotta know better places than this, right?"
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
"Yeah, sure," lied Ridley, who had no intention of letting it get that far. Nice though it was to have his human body back, he wasn't actually stupid enough to get his dick out in the middle of some dungeon illusion designed to screw with his head, thanks.
Ridley didn't have any real plan here, but he wanted out of the bar, and judging by the way the world had reset itself when he got too far from Mike, that meant the other guy was coming along for the ride.
So this was... what, one of Andre's memories? Maybe? Andre might well be humiliated for Ridley to learn that he apparently had a thing for guys with white-person dreads and a tedious interest in competitive battling and who, Ridley was knee-jerk certain, complained about how everything was too politically-correct these days and you couldn't say anything any more, but Ridley didn't give a shit. Andre's awful taste in men was none of his business.
Which raised the question of why this of all things was what the dungeon was showing him. Was it some sort of weird creepy sex dungeon? Was that why you were supposed to enter in pairs? Was Andre out there somewhere, trapped in a memory of one of Ridley's own regrettable past hook-ups?
Ridley approached the door with Mike in tow, on the lookout for any further scraps of colour, halfway bracing himself for the world to crumple around him again and reset him back to the table.
Ridley didn't have any real plan here, but he wanted out of the bar, and judging by the way the world had reset itself when he got too far from Mike, that meant the other guy was coming along for the ride.
So this was... what, one of Andre's memories? Maybe? Andre might well be humiliated for Ridley to learn that he apparently had a thing for guys with white-person dreads and a tedious interest in competitive battling and who, Ridley was knee-jerk certain, complained about how everything was too politically-correct these days and you couldn't say anything any more, but Ridley didn't give a shit. Andre's awful taste in men was none of his business.
Which raised the question of why this of all things was what the dungeon was showing him. Was it some sort of weird creepy sex dungeon? Was that why you were supposed to enter in pairs? Was Andre out there somewhere, trapped in a memory of one of Ridley's own regrettable past hook-ups?
Ridley approached the door with Mike in tow, on the lookout for any further scraps of colour, halfway bracing himself for the world to crumple around him again and reset him back to the table.
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canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
The world reacted now as well, but differently. Instead of darkening, the world brightened; instead of sounds distorting, they quieted; instead of headache, there was a feeling of relief akin to what one would feel once aspirin finally kicked in and defeated the pain.
Once everything had faded to white, Mike included, the world changed in another blink - now placing Ridley at a table in someone's apartment, sitting across from Mike. The apartment was spacious, neat and modern in decor, though still entirely colorless. Some paintings of landscapes hung on the walls. They looked like they would have been very nice to look at if they hadn't been grayscale.
Mike had a glass of beer in front of him and in front of Ridley was a glass of clear liquid - probably water. Mike seemed to be in the middle of talking about something, and Ridley would get the feeling that he'd been at it for quite a while.
"Man, Cathy," he said, shaking his head. "Ugh, what a bitch she was. Glad I ended up coming out. Didn't need to put up with her anymore after that."
Once everything had faded to white, Mike included, the world changed in another blink - now placing Ridley at a table in someone's apartment, sitting across from Mike. The apartment was spacious, neat and modern in decor, though still entirely colorless. Some paintings of landscapes hung on the walls. They looked like they would have been very nice to look at if they hadn't been grayscale.
Mike had a glass of beer in front of him and in front of Ridley was a glass of clear liquid - probably water. Mike seemed to be in the middle of talking about something, and Ridley would get the feeling that he'd been at it for quite a while.
"Man, Cathy," he said, shaking his head. "Ugh, what a bitch she was. Glad I ended up coming out. Didn't need to put up with her anymore after that."
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
The shift in location left Ridley feeling disoriented and rattled.
Was this where Andre lived? It looked like some place out of a magazine, but maybe Ridley just had particularly low standards for his living spaces. It was obvious at a glance that whoever lived here owned tables with all four legs the same length.
It would probably be weird and intrusive to start rummaging through Andre's stuff.
Any idea Ridley might have had about what to do next had hinged on the idea of getting out of the bar and onto Wyndon's streets, but whatever was operating the dungeon clearly didn't plan on allowing him any opportunity to disrupt the narrative.
Okay. So how was Ridley going to get out of this?
Maybe if he played the scene through to its conclusion he'd be allowed to leave, but Ridley didn't trust the dungeon enough to rely on that. And also he really, really didn't want to reach the inevitable conclusion to this particular scene, thanks.
What where the limitations here? If Ridley acted out would the dungeon punish him, or would it just keep resetting the scene until he gave up and played along?
Fuck it. Under the circumstances, Ridley figured he deserved at least one really good tantrum.
"You're an asshole and Andre has shit taste," he told Mike, and threw his glass of probably-water in the guy's face. Ridley jumped to his feet, raising his voice. "Hey, Andre! Andre, can you hear me?"
The reset hadn't been instantaneous last time. He had maybe a few seconds left in which to act. Ridley reached down inside himself, searching for that place where energy welled within his mimikyu body, and slammed his fist into the wall.
Either he'd use a Radiant play rough, or he'd just break his hand punching the wall.
Was this where Andre lived? It looked like some place out of a magazine, but maybe Ridley just had particularly low standards for his living spaces. It was obvious at a glance that whoever lived here owned tables with all four legs the same length.
It would probably be weird and intrusive to start rummaging through Andre's stuff.
Any idea Ridley might have had about what to do next had hinged on the idea of getting out of the bar and onto Wyndon's streets, but whatever was operating the dungeon clearly didn't plan on allowing him any opportunity to disrupt the narrative.
Okay. So how was Ridley going to get out of this?
Maybe if he played the scene through to its conclusion he'd be allowed to leave, but Ridley didn't trust the dungeon enough to rely on that. And also he really, really didn't want to reach the inevitable conclusion to this particular scene, thanks.
What where the limitations here? If Ridley acted out would the dungeon punish him, or would it just keep resetting the scene until he gave up and played along?
Fuck it. Under the circumstances, Ridley figured he deserved at least one really good tantrum.
"You're an asshole and Andre has shit taste," he told Mike, and threw his glass of probably-water in the guy's face. Ridley jumped to his feet, raising his voice. "Hey, Andre! Andre, can you hear me?"
The reset hadn't been instantaneous last time. He had maybe a few seconds left in which to act. Ridley reached down inside himself, searching for that place where energy welled within his mimikyu body, and slammed his fist into the wall.
Either he'd use a Radiant play rough, or he'd just break his hand punching the wall.
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
No elemental energy manifested. Ridley's knuckles crashed into the wall, which was wooden but clearly thick enough to take the impact. Ridley's hand, however, didn't fare so well. The pain of his bones fracturing took over all sensation in his hand - at first, unbearable, then bearable, but only narrowly.
"What the fuck?" Mike shouted, equal parts angry and confused. "Are you insane?"
Then, quickly, the world darkened - muffling whatever Mike said next, and bringing on another headache, much sharper than before... not that it was much compared to the pain in Ridley's hand. Everything seemed to happen much more quickly. And then --
Sitting back down. Mike was talking, and he was dry.
"Man, Cathy," he said, shaking his head. "Ugh, what a bitch she was. Glad I ended up coming out. Didn't need to put up with her anymore after that."
Ridley's hand, however, didn't hurt any less.
"What the fuck?" Mike shouted, equal parts angry and confused. "Are you insane?"
Then, quickly, the world darkened - muffling whatever Mike said next, and bringing on another headache, much sharper than before... not that it was much compared to the pain in Ridley's hand. Everything seemed to happen much more quickly. And then --
Sitting back down. Mike was talking, and he was dry.
"Man, Cathy," he said, shaking his head. "Ugh, what a bitch she was. Glad I ended up coming out. Didn't need to put up with her anymore after that."
Ridley's hand, however, didn't hurt any less.
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
Ridley's body responded instinctively, cradling his hand to his chest and curling in around it like that would somehow prevent further damage.
Okay. Well. Shit. That answered several of Ridley's questions, and he didn't like any of the answers.
The pain in his hand gradually faded from a white-hot explosion to a dull ache, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Bearable, as long as he didn't do anything stupid like trying to move it. Ridley had always considered his pain tolerance fairly good, but apparently during his time as a mimikyu he'd forgotten just how vulnerable his human body was.
The worst of it was that Mike was entirely dry.
Ridley hated that. More than the pain, more than the persistence of injury, he hated that sense of impotence. He was far too used to suffering the consequences of his own actions, but no matter how bad he made things for himself he'd always had the assurance that those actions affected the world.
Think. Focus. If Ridley couldn't do anything meaningful to prevent this scene from playing out, then his best hope of escape was to figure out why the dungeon was showing it to him in the first place. Which meant, unfortunately, playing attention to Mike.
"Yeah," Ridley managed. "Sounds like a real piece of work."
It was a weak response, but Ridley had been half-assing this entire interaction so far and Mike hadn't seemed at all daunted. Somehow he doubted Mike would notice his broken hand either. Was the presumably-real guy this simulacrum was based off genuinely that self-absorbed, or was the dungeon smoothing over the gaps in order to keep that narrative running smoothly?
Okay. Well. Shit. That answered several of Ridley's questions, and he didn't like any of the answers.
The pain in his hand gradually faded from a white-hot explosion to a dull ache, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Bearable, as long as he didn't do anything stupid like trying to move it. Ridley had always considered his pain tolerance fairly good, but apparently during his time as a mimikyu he'd forgotten just how vulnerable his human body was.
The worst of it was that Mike was entirely dry.
Ridley hated that. More than the pain, more than the persistence of injury, he hated that sense of impotence. He was far too used to suffering the consequences of his own actions, but no matter how bad he made things for himself he'd always had the assurance that those actions affected the world.
Think. Focus. If Ridley couldn't do anything meaningful to prevent this scene from playing out, then his best hope of escape was to figure out why the dungeon was showing it to him in the first place. Which meant, unfortunately, playing attention to Mike.
"Yeah," Ridley managed. "Sounds like a real piece of work."
It was a weak response, but Ridley had been half-assing this entire interaction so far and Mike hadn't seemed at all daunted. Somehow he doubted Mike would notice his broken hand either. Was the presumably-real guy this simulacrum was based off genuinely that self-absorbed, or was the dungeon smoothing over the gaps in order to keep that narrative running smoothly?
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
"Yeah, she was," Mike said, laughing. "Always going, 'oh, I don't appreciate the jokes you and your friends make about me. I'm really insecure about that stuff.' Like, come on, it's just banter. Women can't be that fragile, right?"
He paused, as if contemplating whether or not to add something. Then a smirk crept onto his face. "You wanna talk fragile, though? Well..." He lowered his voice and leaned in, though it seemed to be purely performative. "This one night, I told her to shut up. She wouldn't do it, though, kept bitching. Then I did something that was pretty risky, but totally worth it." He placed his beer down. "I raised my fist, and..." He raised a fist and punched it into his palm. "Bam!" He broke into laughter. "Felt really fuckin' good." His laughter died down and he grabbed his beer again. "Yeah, I almost got in trouble for it, though. Her friends wanted her to take it to the cops. But she didn't. Smart of her. Besides, it wasn't like I broke her nose or anything. And any man would have just shrugged it off, anyway. Probably thrown a punch of his own! But no, women are just... women." He took a sip.
He paused, as if contemplating whether or not to add something. Then a smirk crept onto his face. "You wanna talk fragile, though? Well..." He lowered his voice and leaned in, though it seemed to be purely performative. "This one night, I told her to shut up. She wouldn't do it, though, kept bitching. Then I did something that was pretty risky, but totally worth it." He placed his beer down. "I raised my fist, and..." He raised a fist and punched it into his palm. "Bam!" He broke into laughter. "Felt really fuckin' good." His laughter died down and he grabbed his beer again. "Yeah, I almost got in trouble for it, though. Her friends wanted her to take it to the cops. But she didn't. Smart of her. Besides, it wasn't like I broke her nose or anything. And any man would have just shrugged it off, anyway. Probably thrown a punch of his own! But no, women are just... women." He took a sip.