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Whispers of Andre and Ridley
- Thread starter Jackie Cat
- Start date
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
The wall in that side of the room was no longer there. The room, instead, opened to a pitch-black void that seemed to have no end.
In that void stood a creature about ten feet tall. It had the body of a white cervid with a collar and socks of brown fur, but its neck was longer and thinner, leading the eye up to a mask-like human face with a wide, eerie, closed-eyed smile. A head of brown, wavy hair framed that mask, and from it emerged two golden antlers. From the antlers hung golden dishes, like those of ancient scales, suspended with thin golden chains. The antlers' tips looked sharp enough to stab a human with, and the fact that they were stained with blood seemed to suggest this had, indeed, occurred...
"Do not be afraid," the creature said, though its mask did not move. "I am Justice."
In that void stood a creature about ten feet tall. It had the body of a white cervid with a collar and socks of brown fur, but its neck was longer and thinner, leading the eye up to a mask-like human face with a wide, eerie, closed-eyed smile. A head of brown, wavy hair framed that mask, and from it emerged two golden antlers. From the antlers hung golden dishes, like those of ancient scales, suspended with thin golden chains. The antlers' tips looked sharp enough to stab a human with, and the fact that they were stained with blood seemed to suggest this had, indeed, occurred...
"Do not be afraid," the creature said, though its mask did not move. "I am Justice."
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
What was that thing? Some kind of pokemon? It looked a little like the illustrations Ridley had seen of xerneas, with its long neck and spreading crown of antlers.
Or like a deerling with a god complex. Be not afraid. And suddenly, Ridley wasn't.
"Making the world a better place?" Ridley echoed. The churning emotional turmoil inside him snagged on that moment of rage, and Ridley held fast to it. It felt good to be angry, better and easier than feeling powerless or horrified or scared or sad or increasingly aware of how it felt to have another person's blood slowly drying on his skin. "Justice? Is that how Andre justifies it to himself when he's jerking off to the sight of the people he murders?"
Or like a deerling with a god complex. Be not afraid. And suddenly, Ridley wasn't.
"Making the world a better place?" Ridley echoed. The churning emotional turmoil inside him snagged on that moment of rage, and Ridley held fast to it. It felt good to be angry, better and easier than feeling powerless or horrified or scared or sad or increasingly aware of how it felt to have another person's blood slowly drying on his skin. "Justice? Is that how Andre justifies it to himself when he's jerking off to the sight of the people he murders?"
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Justice tilted its head. "You heard what Mike was like. He abused his old girlfriend. And had you heard more from him, you'd know that he abused his team, too."
The creature leaned in. "He deserved to die. Alone, afraid, and in pain. What's so wrong with us deriving a little personal pleasure from that, too?"
The creature leaned in. "He deserved to die. Alone, afraid, and in pain. What's so wrong with us deriving a little personal pleasure from that, too?"
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
Ridley hadn't liked Mike. The guy had been an asshole, and it seemed doubtful that he'd improve on further acquaintance. If Ridley heard that he'd died, even that he'd been murdered, he wouldn't have cared. There was even a part of him, he could admit, which would have thought good riddance.
"I don't know if anyone deserves to die," Ridley said. "I don't know if anyone can do something so bad they forfeit the right to live, and I don't know who gets to decide that. But that -" He gestured, still holding the knife, at the bed behind him, with its occupying corpse and greyscale blood. "- what you're doing, getting off to torturing a guy, that's not an execution. That's not justice. That's evil."
"I don't know if anyone deserves to die," Ridley said. "I don't know if anyone can do something so bad they forfeit the right to live, and I don't know who gets to decide that. But that -" He gestured, still holding the knife, at the bed behind him, with its occupying corpse and greyscale blood. "- what you're doing, getting off to torturing a guy, that's not an execution. That's not justice. That's evil."
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
"Evil? How can it be evil to use the deserved suffering of unrepentant scum to create art?" Some of its words were louder and more distorted than the others.
"Besides," it continued, leaning back, "you are not so pure yourself, Ridley. You often act with reckless abandon. Are you not aware of how it hurts the people around you?"
"Besides," it continued, leaning back, "you are not so pure yourself, Ridley. You often act with reckless abandon. Are you not aware of how it hurts the people around you?"
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
"Wow," Ridley said, "wow, sorry, I wasn't aware I had to be a perfect paragon of moral goodness and purity to say that torturing a guy to death is bad. I mean, I always thought there was maybe a difference between hurting people by accident and feeling bad about it and trying to get better so you don't do it again and, y'know, that, but it turns out those are the exact same thing actually! Well, there's me told, I guess!"
He raised his voice as he spoke; by the end he was almost shouting. "Don't give me that shit about deserved suffering! How does that make anything better? How does that help the people he hurt or heal the harm he did? How does standing there pretending that people can pay for their wrongs with suffering do anything but let you feel better about what a monster you are?"
He raised his voice as he spoke; by the end he was almost shouting. "Don't give me that shit about deserved suffering! How does that make anything better? How does that help the people he hurt or heal the harm he did? How does standing there pretending that people can pay for their wrongs with suffering do anything but let you feel better about what a monster you are?"
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
"You would leave their deeds unpunished?" the creature asked. "You would show mercy to those undeserving of it?" It shook its head. "You do not understand. You are... like the others. Too meek carry out justice."
Justice stepped back. "Live your life, then. Do not worry. The Judge will do what you cannot."
The world began to darken, and the creature faded away...
...and Ridley found himself back in the cave, a mimikyu again.
Justice stepped back. "Live your life, then. Do not worry. The Judge will do what you cannot."
The world began to darken, and the creature faded away...
...and Ridley found himself back in the cave, a mimikyu again.
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Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
Andre would find himself in a world of twilight gloom. Even before his eyes adjusted to the low lighting, he'd likely realise that he'd returned to his human form.
Gradually, he began to distinguish between light and shadow, to pick out details from the world around him. He was standing in a clearing, bordered by a wild tangle of plantlife, overgrown grass and thorny bushes and trees grown twisted and strange. To his left and right a path extended through the trees, looking easily walkable and far more inviting than the forbidding depths of the forest.
In front of him was a door set in a frame, free-standing, apparently connected to nothing. Beside it was a small sign, reading:
A quiet whisper sounded, barely audible. Was it coming from the forest, or was it bypassing Andre's ears to arrive directly in his brain?
Gradually, he began to distinguish between light and shadow, to pick out details from the world around him. He was standing in a clearing, bordered by a wild tangle of plantlife, overgrown grass and thorny bushes and trees grown twisted and strange. To his left and right a path extended through the trees, looking easily walkable and far more inviting than the forbidding depths of the forest.
In front of him was a door set in a frame, free-standing, apparently connected to nothing. Beside it was a small sign, reading:
A quiet whisper sounded, barely audible. Was it coming from the forest, or was it bypassing Andre's ears to arrive directly in his brain?
...fuck is ... -ong with you?
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
"Guys? Guys!"
No, nothing this time, either. Andre had been wandering the darkness for a long time, calling out for his fellow Wayfarers, but he'd heard nothing in return. He'd begun to wonder if he'd ever get out. Would he be trapped in this dungeon for the rest of his days on Forlas? How long would that be? How long would it take for him to --
Oh, no, wait. Something was changing now. Something...
Was he...
He was standing on his hind legs. No, his only legs. He had hands. Human hands. Human hands and a human face with a human nose and mouth that he breathed through.
The darkness had changed, too. There was clearly something around him now. Nighttime woods. Or was it evening? Hard to tell. Sun was below the horizon, anyway.
There was a path to his right and left, but there seemed to be a... door in front of him. And a sign. A sign that said not to go into the long grass.And was meant for trainers. He wasn't a fan of trainers...
Well, this was clearly the dungeon weirdness that he had been warned about. He should mentally prepare himself for bad experiences. That in mind, he wondered if it would be smarter not to open the door, if it would avoid triggering something nasty, but then again, the dungeon could also punish him for not doing what it wanted him to do...
He reached for the door --
Huh? Andre looked around, but he couldn't see anyone...
Oh, right, this dungeon's whole thing was whispers. It might have just been another one of those, not meant for him in particular. He shouldn't worry about it.
He reached for the door and attempted to open it.
No, nothing this time, either. Andre had been wandering the darkness for a long time, calling out for his fellow Wayfarers, but he'd heard nothing in return. He'd begun to wonder if he'd ever get out. Would he be trapped in this dungeon for the rest of his days on Forlas? How long would that be? How long would it take for him to --
Oh, no, wait. Something was changing now. Something...
Was he...
He was standing on his hind legs. No, his only legs. He had hands. Human hands. Human hands and a human face with a human nose and mouth that he breathed through.
The darkness had changed, too. There was clearly something around him now. Nighttime woods. Or was it evening? Hard to tell. Sun was below the horizon, anyway.
There was a path to his right and left, but there seemed to be a... door in front of him. And a sign. A sign that said not to go into the long grass.
Well, this was clearly the dungeon weirdness that he had been warned about. He should mentally prepare himself for bad experiences. That in mind, he wondered if it would be smarter not to open the door, if it would avoid triggering something nasty, but then again, the dungeon could also punish him for not doing what it wanted him to do...
He reached for the door --
Huh? Andre looked around, but he couldn't see anyone...
Oh, right, this dungeon's whole thing was whispers. It might have just been another one of those, not meant for him in particular. He shouldn't worry about it.
He reached for the door and attempted to open it.
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
The door opened easily and Andre found himself standing in a bedroom.
Based on the nature of its contents, he might guess it belonged to a child or young teenager. The room as a whole had a haphazard air, suggesting the occupant wasn't much for tidying up after themselves.
Ghost-type pokemon were obviously a favourite theme, judging by the posters plastered on the walls, the ghost-patterned duvet set hanging half off the unmade bed, and the lampent-themed lamp on the bedside table. At the foot of the bed was a pet bed for a pokemon, although its pristine state and the thick layer of black-and-white fur clinging to the bedspread suggested it didn't see much use. In one corner was a computer desk and game system; in another corner, a beanbag chair and a pair of bookcases so stuffed to overflowing that teetering piles of books had been piled up on the floor beside it.
Andre could hear muffled conversation, angry in tone, as though two people were having an argument several rooms away. If he strained his ears to hear more, he might instead catch another whisper, drifting into his head:
If he turned and looked behind himself, Andre would discover that the door had vanished, replaced by a set of steps leading down.
Based on the nature of its contents, he might guess it belonged to a child or young teenager. The room as a whole had a haphazard air, suggesting the occupant wasn't much for tidying up after themselves.
Ghost-type pokemon were obviously a favourite theme, judging by the posters plastered on the walls, the ghost-patterned duvet set hanging half off the unmade bed, and the lampent-themed lamp on the bedside table. At the foot of the bed was a pet bed for a pokemon, although its pristine state and the thick layer of black-and-white fur clinging to the bedspread suggested it didn't see much use. In one corner was a computer desk and game system; in another corner, a beanbag chair and a pair of bookcases so stuffed to overflowing that teetering piles of books had been piled up on the floor beside it.
Andre could hear muffled conversation, angry in tone, as though two people were having an argument several rooms away. If he strained his ears to hear more, he might instead catch another whisper, drifting into his head:
-ting off on murder...
If he turned and looked behind himself, Andre would discover that the door had vanished, replaced by a set of steps leading down.
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Huh. A kid's bedroom. Whose was it?
Well, whoever it belonged to, they certainly liked ghost pokémon. They also seemed to be the caretaker of a feral. Or... which universe's rules was this one operating on? Could pokémon become sapient here? Well, maybe it didn't matter. Andre was careful with addressing pokémon to begin with.
There was a muffled conversation. Sounded angry. He tried to listen to it...
That was someone else. That was one of the whispers. It was hard to make out, but it definitely said something about murder. But whose murder? Something done by the people that had gone into the dungeon before the Wayfarers?
He looked around, and the sudden sight of a set of steps replacing the door he'd come through made him flinch. But that was to be expected for a dungeon, right? Especially one with a reputation for messing with people's heads.
As it was the only exit, Andre didn't have much choice. He began descending the steps, trying to hear if the conversation was getting any closer on the way down.
Well, whoever it belonged to, they certainly liked ghost pokémon. They also seemed to be the caretaker of a feral. Or... which universe's rules was this one operating on? Could pokémon become sapient here? Well, maybe it didn't matter. Andre was careful with addressing pokémon to begin with.
There was a muffled conversation. Sounded angry. He tried to listen to it...
That was someone else. That was one of the whispers. It was hard to make out, but it definitely said something about murder. But whose murder? Something done by the people that had gone into the dungeon before the Wayfarers?
He looked around, and the sudden sight of a set of steps replacing the door he'd come through made him flinch. But that was to be expected for a dungeon, right? Especially one with a reputation for messing with people's heads.
As it was the only exit, Andre didn't have much choice. He began descending the steps, trying to hear if the conversation was getting any closer on the way down.
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
The conversation grew louder as Andre descended, although no more distinct. As long as he didn't pay too much attention the voices sounded as though they were speaking Galarish, but if he focused he'd find himself unable to pick any recognisable words from the jumble of syllables.
Andre emerged into a narrow hallway leading directly to another door. From the coat hooks and shoe rack beside it, it seemed as though it might lead him back outside.
There were no other doorways.
...or were there? If Andre decided to pause and scrutinise his surroundings more closely, he'd see areas of the wall start to shift and distort, new shapes coming in like a smeared painting in reverse.
Was it a good idea to stick around?
...gonna kee... -noring me?
Andre emerged into a narrow hallway leading directly to another door. From the coat hooks and shoe rack beside it, it seemed as though it might lead him back outside.
There were no other doorways.
...or were there? If Andre decided to pause and scrutinise his surroundings more closely, he'd see areas of the wall start to shift and distort, new shapes coming in like a smeared painting in reverse.
Was it a good idea to stick around?
-ine. fuck you.
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Wait, that was meant for him?
Oh, Gods.
'Murder'. His murders. Someone knew of his murders.
No, no, calm down. It was surely the dungeon itself. If the dungeon had access to people's minds, it would be trivial for it to find out about his acrylics. Still, that wasn't a good thing. If the dungeon knew, it could tell someone. Another Wayfarer. And they would tell everyone else. They would all turn on him, they would band together and kill him --
Wait, what was happening?
Andre had stopped for a while at the bottom of the steps to ponder his horrible situation, and it appeared that the walls had started to shift. Was this what happened with dungeons when they needed to change their layout? Oh, shit, what if it would trap him if he stuck around? He couldn't have that.
Andre sprinted to the end of the hallway...
"No, wait," Andre said to the voice. "Talk to me. Who are you? And what are you talking about?" It was better to play dumb, at least at first.
Assuming there was no need to stay in the hallway to hear the response, Andre attempted to open the door.
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Back in the woods. Now reminded that dungeons can shift, it was relieving to get to a more open space. Andre closed the door behind him.
Okay. The voice had seen right through him. Still, he shouldn't say it out loud in case the dungeon would send his words to another Wayfarer, provided this wasn't already one.
He stopped to consider his next words carefully, then spoke. "Are you talking about... my acrylics?" If the voice had access to his mind, they would know what he meant by that.
While he waited for the response, he decided to head deeper into the woods, choosing the path that was right of the door. Walking would alleviate his restlessness.
Okay. The voice had seen right through him. Still, he shouldn't say it out loud in case the dungeon would send his words to another Wayfarer, provided this wasn't already one.
He stopped to consider his next words carefully, then spoke. "Are you talking about... my acrylics?" If the voice had access to his mind, they would know what he meant by that.
While he waited for the response, he decided to head deeper into the woods, choosing the path that was right of the door. Walking would alleviate his restlessness.
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
...talking about ... -urder. you tort- ... to death. don't sanitise ... cute little euphemism. fuck you.
Andre could have been walking for minutes or hours. Was the dungeon playing games with time and distance, or with his perception of them? Either way, he eventually found himself arriving back at the same clearing, with the door and the jaunty little sign standing next to it.
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Oh, yeah. The voice knew. About the torture and the murder. Guess there was no beating around the bush anymore.
He sighed, and prepared to tell the Voice what he'd told himself a million times. "The people I... target are abusers and rapists. I am doing the world a service by doing... what I do."
He arrived at the same stretch of path he'd been in before. The path must be looping around. But then the option that remained was to go off-path. The thing the sign specifically warned him about.
He didn't like the thought of being attacked by a wild mon, but that's probably what he needed to go through to progress the vision and hopefully get out. And he'd been on the receiving end of some nasty attacks on Forlas already, right? Articuno, the Shado- Owen... Not that it was nice to reminisce about the pain he'd felt those times. Still, he'd lived.
And, hey. It was his duty to get through this vision, right? To get back to the others, to find Brisa, to find out what Brisa knew and to see if it gave any more clues. If he wanted to be useful, he would suck it up and march into the tall grass.
So he did.
Hap
octopus
- Pronoun
- he/him
A city boy like Andre would likely find the dense woods hard going. Outstretched branches and thorny brambles snagged at his clothes, and the uneven ground underfoot constantly threatened to trip him.
Still, though, it was less dark than he might have feared. Clusters of bioluminescent fungi gave off a gentle glow, briefly brightening if Andre brushed against them. Perhaps Andre would find these small points of light beautiful, like stars speckled throughout the night sky. Or perhaps their faint light only made the gloom of the forest seem darker and more oppressive in comparison.
Half-hidden amongst the detritus of the forest floor, Andre would spot a glint of metal.
Still, though, it was less dark than he might have feared. Clusters of bioluminescent fungi gave off a gentle glow, briefly brightening if Andre brushed against them. Perhaps Andre would find these small points of light beautiful, like stars speckled throughout the night sky. Or perhaps their faint light only made the gloom of the forest seem darker and more oppressive in comparison.
...don't pretend you're do- ...of altruism. you enjoy...
Half-hidden amongst the detritus of the forest floor, Andre would spot a glint of metal.
canisaries
the one draft wonder
- Pronoun
- she/her
Andre had never been the outdoorsy type. He didn't like that about himself - spoiled little silver spoon boy couldn't handle roughing it - but he'd never tried to rectify it, either. He didn't like that about himself, either. How he would recognize a fault in himself and do nothing about it.
Well, it was pretty, at least. It reminded him of Glimwood Tangle. He'd been there once as a kid during a family vacation going through all the major sights in Galar. Maybe it was Glimwood Tangle. Maybe it was drawing from his very own memories. Who knew how the dungeon worked.
Andre's mind didn't get to wander for long, however...
Andre's heart sank. The voice had struck down to his very core.
'Enjoy.'
He could deny it. He could deny it like he did the first time when Barely-There had asked. Gods knew he denied it himself every time the little voice in his head brought it up and told him how he was a monster. 'No, it's not like that. I do it because it's my duty.'
But how could he deny the feeling he got when the silky smooth aura of someone in horror caressed his brain? The inspiration, the motions of the brush, the beautiful end result? What was that if not enjoyment?
No. He wasn't a monster. He only targeted those he knew deserved it. He would never kill just to feel that rush. He contained himself. He put that part of him in a little box where it could live and do as it pleased but never venture outside. Because if that ever happened... then he really would have to be put down.
He didn't know how to answer the voice. Maybe if he waited a bit longer, something would come to him. Some fantastic argument that would convince the voice otherwise. Make them see his side of things. Make them realize that he was still human. A sapient, empathetic being who just wanted to do the right thing.
Andre looked around as he advanced again, and noticed a metallic glint in the ground. Was that important? He should find out. He snuck in for a closer look.
Well, it was pretty, at least. It reminded him of Glimwood Tangle. He'd been there once as a kid during a family vacation going through all the major sights in Galar. Maybe it was Glimwood Tangle. Maybe it was drawing from his very own memories. Who knew how the dungeon worked.
Andre's mind didn't get to wander for long, however...
Andre's heart sank. The voice had struck down to his very core.
'Enjoy.'
He could deny it. He could deny it like he did the first time when Barely-There had asked. Gods knew he denied it himself every time the little voice in his head brought it up and told him how he was a monster. 'No, it's not like that. I do it because it's my duty.'
But how could he deny the feeling he got when the silky smooth aura of someone in horror caressed his brain? The inspiration, the motions of the brush, the beautiful end result? What was that if not enjoyment?
No. He wasn't a monster. He only targeted those he knew deserved it. He would never kill just to feel that rush. He contained himself. He put that part of him in a little box where it could live and do as it pleased but never venture outside. Because if that ever happened... then he really would have to be put down.
He didn't know how to answer the voice. Maybe if he waited a bit longer, something would come to him. Some fantastic argument that would convince the voice otherwise. Make them see his side of things. Make them realize that he was still human. A sapient, empathetic being who just wanted to do the right thing.
Andre looked around as he advanced again, and noticed a metallic glint in the ground. Was that important? He should find out. He snuck in for a closer look.