Cash67
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I’m great at tucking in. - @Invisible, 2024
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Well it finally happened.
I got sick while teaching! Caught a 24-hour something (or it was just allergies who really knows) and I missed teaching for a day. I feel better now but Wednesday (the day I was sick) wasn’t great. Anyway immune system level up I guess?
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Pic nodded in tired understanding, then his vision went black. He was tired, both emotionally and physically, and his mind couldn’t take much more of his music being forced to end. So he just passed out on the bed. His hand still gripped Aventine’s, though the rest of him acted more erratically as he fell off of the bed. @InfiniteInsanity @Invisible @TheRavenHasLanded @Spark of Hope
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“That’s it? You’re just here?”
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“I’m confused” Pic muttered aloud. “I just want to know what you want.”
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Pic’s attitude softened slightly at this voice. This was the dissonant voice he expected, but it came from a different source. The dissonance was oddly beautiful and Pic was drawn to it. Who is this? Pic thought.
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Pic shivered visibly (Aventine definitely felt Pic shake here), as the percussion he was following ended. He was left with an ominous silence in his head. He couldn’t start any song. His mind cast out all thoughts of curiosity, and want back to fear. It only takes. It can’t give. Will it take anything from me? “What do you want?” He asks the voice, terrified of what it might offer, but knowing he would have to know, or he would live in fear for years to come.
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Pic nodded and replied, "I'll be," he shivered, "quieter, then." He then mimicked the tiredness of the voice by slumping his shoulders and sighing in a similar fashion to the voice. Following that, he immediately broke his promises to be quieter by doing percussion, a neutral sound to beginnings and endings. It merely persisted as an undertone and an omen of things to come. Sometimes it began, sometimes it ended. It was the best Pic could do in this scenario.
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However, his harmonies always came to a conclusion faster than anticipated. The voice spoke in only endings. He never opened a song, never began a cadence, just closed out the final chord. Some of Pic's fear was replaced with confusion, enough to make a primary feeling curiosity. "You don't take away voices," he mutters, just loud enough for him Aventine, and Ash to hear, "You simply make them conclude. You leave them with no other option." @Spark of Hope @The Aspiring Archivist @InfiniteInsanity
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Pic hums along with the new voice's tones. Strangely, his harmonies always came out sounding like a herald's trumpet, rather than the discordant harmonies he expected to make for one who takes away voices.
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"Who is he?"
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Pic remains silent, pondering how this can even be possible for any being.
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Pic jumped, but responded calmly. "You... you were taking my voice."
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Pic takes the waterbottle with his other hand, takes a sip and nods. "Thank you," he whispers.
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A flash of fear enters Pic’s eyes, but he holds himself together for this.
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Pic stopped humming the moment she touched his hand. His gaze softened, and he gave Aventine a confused look. After a few seconds he gave Aventine a small smile and squeezed her hand, then seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he was in. He didn’t let go of her hand, however. “Did I do anything to hurt any of you?” he asks the room, seeming genuinely concerned about everyone.
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Pic walked over to Aventines bed, sat on the foot of the bed, and pulled his knees to his chest. He took many deep breaths, and began to him a haunting melody. All around him could feel Pic’s fear, Pic’s single-minded terror on the possibility of the very thing his identity was based on dying and being taken from him. Or even worse, being placed in a situation where he was still himself, but unable to create, unable to sing, and unable to live. Pic seemed to grow more focused the longer the song went on, but the fear and haunting tone remained and merged with resolve. Pic’s face grew cold and hard as the song changed to be less of a song of loss, and more of a song of protection.
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At this sensation, Pic went deathly silent. His lines of light disappeared, and when he spoke, his voice was void of musicality, and full of fear. “Hello?”
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Pic kept pacing and humming to himself. As the pillow flew at him, Pic absentmindedly waved his hand, and five lines of light looped around Pic as he hummed a quick descending note. The pillow ran along this loop and was hurled back at Roy at a greater speed. Pic seemed unaware that any of this had happened.
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Pic composed himself, then blurted out, “What the heck was that thing?! It felt as if my very essence was being taken away, as if I couldn’t speak, as if I would never…” His voice trailed off as he paced, working off the adrenaline that had suddenly appeared. He picked up the pillow that had been thrown on the ground and threw it (maybe a little too hard) back at Aventine as he paced. @The Aspiring Archivist @InfiniteInsanity @InvisibIe
