Act IV - [Video]

[crapbearer]

So, imPorts, what are your thoughts on destiny?

[ Max is in his work uniform for the Museum of Folklore, framed by the charming backdrop of a cramped break room, soda in hand. ]

Admittedly, I'm a bit of a lit nerd back home, and a lotta stories out there start off with a prophecy. Modern stuff, too, but even then it's usually in an old timey magical setting.

A little bird once told me destiny is equal parts chance, free will, and necessity. Prophecy, divination, time travel... has anyone back home dealt with that kind of stuff? Knowing what's supposed to happen before it does?

Comments

[inchesofevil]

[it is actually surprisingly easy for Duncan to open up to Norman. something about his strong silence is very reassuring, and Duncan feels comfortable speaking around him the same way one feels comfortable confiding in pets: you know they won't judge you.]

Not...really. I mean, that's what I'm going back to.

But hey, the dinosaurs are actually just video game enemies, like dromaeoavids and shit. They already existed so that's not my fault, and the world merging with a video game world was also not my fault, even if I wound up in a...very prestigious, powerful position because of it.

And my signature ability is resurrecting the dead, which I do regularly as a public service, sooo... [not to mention he's responsible for actual necromancy being a thing now, not just proper lazarus-style resurrection. that's the shady state secrets part that he's not going to mention.]

I mean that's pretty much all three checked off and that's just my fucking day-to-day life now.

[manofmanylegends]

[—if anything, it's interesting how Duncan can relate in some way. It doesn't sound like he means to be involved in... certain things, at least not in a bad way.

Somewhere in the back of Norman's mind is a voice insisting Duncan's situation sounds like destiny. But there's no point in saying anything; besides, what would that accomplish? For him, the idea that destiny has no grasp over people here and now is questionable at best.]

No. That was your day-to-day life before suddenly showing up here. [If he looks like he's going to launch into a lecture about this being an opportunity to change things... he's not. Because that's not his thing.]

Who knows what's going to happen in a place like this. [A casual remark with a slight hint of caution.]

[inchesofevil]

[He goes still and just stares at Norman for a minute while that reply sinks in.]

...Well, shit.

[it's a kind of quietly stunned oath, because he actually hasn't thought about this in those terms yet. he hasn't been looking at it as some kind of new chapter in his life, some huge shift that's going to become his new normal. he's been approaching it as a break of sorts, a detour from his old life, like a mandatory, involuntary vacation where nothing actually counts or matters.

he glances down into his empty coffee mug, up toward the kitchen, then to Norman. instead of going to refill it, which is very tempting, he pushes himself away from the back of the couch and walks around it to take a seat beside Norman, setting the empty mug on the coffee table.

His day-to-day life before the merge started was college classes and video games, and then it was carrying a gun everywhere to protect himself from monsters, and then it was magic lessons and history lessons and bishops every-fucking-where telling him how to run things. and now it's this. but unlike those adjustments, this one feels like it's completely divorced from context, because nothing from his previous life has carried over with him.

except something has. Him. Himself and his experiences. That makes this a direct continuation just as much as every other huge shift.

Is this how the first people who got dragged into Zenderael felt? The ones who wound up there before anybody knew what was going on and had to make their own way in a hostile environment where nobody knew them?

He hunches over, arms on his thighs, one hand hanging between his legs and the other ruffling through his hair.]

Fuck, man. [just as stunned as that first one.] Does this actually count though? If I go back home am I going to remember any of it? Will I go back home?

[manofmanylegends]

[He watches Duncan's slow reaction, the way he suddenly doesn't refill his mug and comes around to sit before having what might be a frustrating deep thought moment. All the while, though, he's quietly thinking that only destiny will tell, which means there's little point to asking such questions.]

I don't know. [His tone remains casual. The conversation had been a little too dark and deep early on.] Don't know if anyone else knows, either.

The only thing I do know is, I'll just roll along with it.

[There's a little smirk on his face, his expression seemingly lit up with excitement as if facing a worthy opponent.]

[inchesofevil]

[He turns his head to look up at Norman, not shifting his position otherwise. He sees the smirk, and understands this to be an extension of what Norman's already said earlier in the conversation. 'Rolling with it' seems to have been his approach to much of his time, whether it's supposed-Destiny calling on him or something like this.]

I guess that's really all we can do.

It's just... I don't know, it feels like I'm being forced to put my life on hold. I don't have anyone from home like you and Max do, so they feel like completely separate things where the only common element is me.