Disclaimer: Not mine.
Leonard Burton never wanted to be the Voice of Night Vale.
He'd always thought he'd go on to do sports. That was his plan. That was what he banked his future on.
His parents constantly tried to dissuade him, tried to persuade him to apply for an internship at NVCR, but he'd brush them off. He listened to the radio, everyone did, but he had no desire to work there.
Then, on the day he turned twenty, he woke up in a dark box. When the lid opened, he felt...different. Like something else was inside his body.
Cecil Palmer, by contrast, had been dreaming of this moment for as long as he could remember.
He listened to Leonard's show almost religiously (but then again, so did everyone else; it was municipally mandated, after all). He even recorded his own mockups.
He was going to work in radio one day, he was sure of it.
His brother told him he was stupid, and it did affect him. But he usually recovered pretty quickly.
And on his twentieth birthday he woke up in a dark box.
When the lid opened, he felt whole. Like a piece had been missing, but was now back in his body.
It was somewhat fitting that their mutual successor, Haneet Dhillon, would be in the middle of the spectrum.
I say the middle. Really, she just shot straight from one end of the scale to the other.
She started out with no desire to work in radio. She wouldn't even listen to it if she had the choice. She wanted to be an analyst.
And then she found herself stood in front of the Night Vale Community Radio Station and realised that she'd found her calling.
She knew she'd never be the Voice.
She knew she wasn't even fully Night Valean; how could the prophecy be about her?
But it was, and she found out too early.
The twenty-year-old Han woke up in a dark box.
She has awaited this for almost four years.
Apprentice Leonard knew he had no talent.
He felt he has to pay attention for the next five years, for the good of Night Vale.
He knew he would be blessed or cursed with the position for twenty more after that.
He knew he was responsible for training the next Voice.
He didn't want to be involved at all.
He loved this city, he really did.
He just didn't want to speak for her.
Apprentice Cecil was pretty sure he did have talent.
He never stopped talking, and it annoyed Leonard a little, but he was a fast learner. In the future, he forgot how he learnt, but it was all still up there.
He loved Night Vale.
He loved having the chance to speak for her.
Apprentice Haneet was different.
She had talent - but she found out too early.
As Intern Haneet, she'd spend her free time learning what to do.
By the time she began her apprenticeship, what she didn't know wasn't worth knowing and she had near-perfect control over the third eye.
She felt like she belonged to Night Vale
And she knew that she would be able to speak for her.
Leonard was sure there had been a mistake, but there he was at twenty-five, stood in front of the entire population of Night Vale in ceremonial robes and a soft meat crown, resisting the urge to run away, far from the city.
He knew the identity of his successor now, searched for him in the crowd. Good luck, kid.
He wasn't sure what he was saying, but he made a promise to himself.
He wouldn't do his job; at least, not properly.
He would speak his mind. He would think for himself. If necessary, he would teach the young Cecil Palmer to do the same.
There had to have been a mistake. Soon the Council would realise. He would make them realise.
Twenty-five year old Cecil was the polar opposite. He was only too happy to stand up there in front of the entire population of Night Vale in ceremonial robes and a soft meat crown.
He, too, knew the identity of his successor, but she wasn't in the crowd. Her family moved away years ago.
He hoped she would return to Night Vale.
He would carry out his duties as well as he could, but he knew that some of what Leonard had taught him to do wasn't approved of by the Council or Station Management. He hoped it wouldn't leak through.
He also hoped Haneet Dhillon - wherever she was - wouldn't pick up on it.
He couldn't afford to make mistakes.
Han, at twenty-five, stood in front of the entire population of Night Vale in a soft meat crown and ceremonial robes, smiling nervously with violet-gold-amber eyes. It was difficult to remain composed when your irises gave you away.
She scans for her successor in the crowd and hopes the child will survive to adulthood.
Han was the first female Voice in centuries, but she wasn't intimidated. She wasn't struck by any feeling of inferiority. She was excited.
She had grown to love Night Vale. She had fought for this city. She would die for this city.
She was going to be the best damn Voice her home had ever heard.
When Voice Leonard passes his picture on the wall of the station for the first time he is sickened. The man in the picture is not him. It is something other.
When Voice Cecil passes his picture on the wall of the station he is proud. The man in the picture has achieved something, and in doing so is more than what he was.
When Voice Haneet passes her picture on the wall of the station for the first time she stops and looks at it a moment.
The woman in the picture isn't how Han pictures herself, but it is who she is and it will hang there for eternity. When Han is done soothing and informing her listeners, when she is done being the voice in the darkness that attracts strangers to the city, when the job falls to another, her picture will still be there. The woman in the picture, like the faces surrounding her, is beautiful, frozen in time. In this picture, she will be forever young, forever alluring.
Like a desert siren.