step eleven
Sometimes Dreams Are Not Yours to Mold
BECAUSE YOU LEFT ME
David
David
David
Awake
David was awake
David was awake
David was awake awake awake
David was awake.
Awake
Awake awake awake awake awake awake
David was awake.
David was awake.
Awake David was awake was awake was awake.
David. Was. Awake.
David realized he was awake.
He was awake. That was good.
He didn't know how long he was awake, just that he was.
That was not so good.
But he was alive. Alive is nice, he liked being alive. And in a bed—an actual bed?
David was awake and in a bed. His body was locked in a ball, half pushed up against the pillow—okay, rephrase. He was enveloped by a gigantic pillow which in turn was on a bed. And for the longest time he was staring at a slowly focusing ball of flickering orange above him. It was a candle, a huge candle, on a gigantic table next to the bed. Beyond that was a tan colored wall with one of those wooden molding set halfway up the wall, stained a deep rich brown.
How long has he been staring at the candle and why was it only now did he realize he was staring at it?
Wait. No. He's small. That is a normal-sized candle—but what is considered normal-sized to him? Something that would be considered tiny to anyone bigger than him?
He sunk lower into the pillow and sighed loudly. His body fell limp, shivering as he squeezed an armful of stuffing and ignoring the pins-and-needles aches in his body. Why was he so relieved? That he was alive? Being alive is good. He certainly had no qualm at being alive. His head ached but that wasn't new but he was alive.
Deep breaths. Calm down, down down down. Why so frantic? He was alive—again, a positive— and he was sprawled out on what had to be the most comfortable thing he ever woke up on. Feathers, it had to be a feather-filled pillow—
Sadie. Sadie and Nick and—
The world swirled and spun and the candle blurred and twirled and he fell to the cushioning again and everything was tumbling tumbling tumbling tumbling.
David opened his eyes. The world listed around him. The edge of the bed slowly decided to run parallel to the molding of the walls after much arguing. Then they both agreed they were supposed to be perfectly horizontal though it took a long while. The unflickering flame sharpened into a single tongue of fire. His ears popped into focus—something wooden was complaining about being pushed against a stone floor.
Pap.
Did something just hit—pap-pap!
Gingerly, he turned—pap!—and blinked.
A Farfetch'd stood over him. She wore a brown cloak with a ton of pockets in the front and a—pap! …a second reed holstered in another pocket on her back. The—Pap!—the other being in her wing and methodically tapping him from tail to—chomp! David resisted the bird's tugs—pap! The second reed swatted his nose—where was his helm—pap-pap-pap-papapapapap!
The world panged and tilted; David hissed and relented and buried his head in the pillow. The Farftech'd bit the captured reed and pulled at it, then stuck it in a separate pocket than the second reed's. Thwack.
"You are the worst doctor ever heard of," David grumbled, pulling more at the edge of the pillow. There wasn't enough to cover his head.
"A moment, David. Amuse her for a second longer," a voice drolled from the far side of the room. David raised his head as much as he could to squint at a large figure standing oh so far away. It was holding something… a… a clipboard.
That can't be a clipboard. No, no way would that be a clipboard, how could it be a clipboard?
He shook his head but the world swirled again and he found himself back on the pillow. His arms trembled.
"Do not stress yourself further," the voice mulled over the turn of a paper. "You have been wanting to wake up for a long while now. Do not send yourself back into the nightmares."
Nightmares what night—pap-pap-pap!
"Yes, Allia, he's awake. You have antagonized him enough, well done. Get him something warm to eat." There was faint praise hidden in the low rumblings of the voice. Apparently it was genuine enough for the Farfetch'd; she squawked proudly and hopped down from the step stool. David's eyes squinted as they tried to follow the blurry green lines of the leeks as they waddled to the far side of the room, towards a large grey shape he assumed was a door.
"And try not to wake his friends," the voice hastily added. The green blur hesitated in front of the door. "The Totodile should be in a coma with how many sleep seeds we gave him, and the Minun is much too loud."
The door carefully opened but a much, much larger figure blocked his view. A Gliscor a seat on the top of the footstool. He wore a similar brown robe, but had a circle of silver tread sewn into the shoulders. He held the clipboard—it was an actual clipboard with an oversized clip and a wooden plank for a board! Why does that surprise him so much?—with a pincer, his tail wrapped over his shoulder and scratching at the paper. He was writing with one of the points of his tail, making notes with the inked tip as his golden eyes glanced over the Cubone. A flick of the tail and the page was turned by the un-inked tail spike. A single mark was made, then more pages turned. Turnturnturnturn—
David swallowed nervously, unconsciously edging away from the huge creature as he lay on the pillow. The clipboard alone was as tall as he was nevermind that he could probably fit inside the Gliscor's pincers. Everything about this room was super-sized for him, and yet just slightly too small for the Gliscor.
Over the silent minutes, David's vision slowly cleared and saw the face the Gliscor wore was of a blank, morose sort with the ears drooping. The eyes darted over him, narrowing with traces of resigned curiosity. The tail etched more lines.
The door opened again, "Swuib-squaaa~!"
The Gliscor took a lurched step off the chair and allowed the Farfetch'd to hop up with a tray. It had a bowl on it. The bowl smelled good—David immediately sat at attention. The good was fairly large. Fairly large had soup that was blue. Blue smelled delicious. Delicious had a spoon to eat with. Oh, all was so very, very good!
David's immediate excitement didn't go unnoticed. "You seem willing to eat. Good." The Gliscor nodded, dotting one last note on the clipboard. "Oran berry soup, likely with some other foodstuffs and such. For how energetic you are, you're awfully thin for a Cubone your size. Not exactly malnourished, but this is probably the most substantial meal you've had in a long while."
David glanced up, tilting his head with a questioning hmph? with his spoon half stuck in his mouth.
"At least that is what little research available to me says." The Gliscor shook his head dismissively but apologetically, flicking pages back and shifting his grip on the clipboard.
"But David. David, David, David, how are you?" the Gliscor met David's eyes again, the curiosity taking alight. David had a mouth full of soup but the Gliscor wasn't going to let him answer anyway. "Physically? Bruised, scratched, slight burn, and a concussion." He waved his free pincer and tail dismissively, subtly rolling his eyes. "They've all healed as you slept. Mentally? Heh. Keheh." The Gliscor frowned, the curiosity bursting into venomous intrigue. David's sudden enthusiasm for eating lessened remarkably. "…yes. There will be a moment for that, but it shall be for later."
The Gliscor bowed his head apologetically, then looked back to the clipboard, tail flipping pages back and forth. David squirmed uncomfortably, glancing around the room but the Gliscor blocked all sight of Sobek or Minnie.
The Gliscor's head snapped to David, "Ah! Yes. I am Chall. Second Bishop, Chall, of the Windfall hospital of the Square. Ah. Hmm. Unfamiliarity. So. You are not from the Abby after all. Curious. Hmm. Curious." The Farfetch'd held up a pot of ink which Chall recoated his stinger in, then scratched a note onto the pages. "Though, doublethought: we Abby clerics are pacifists, yes. Yes. Hmm. Curious assumption to make with evidence proving otherwise. Interesting." The golden eyes studied the Cubone for a long moment. "So. Where did you come from?"
"I-I don't—"
"Yes, yes, yes. We know. Amnesia." Chall spat the word with pained disgust. He passed off the clipboard to Allie (she carried it off to a counter by the door) and leaned down eyelevel to David. David noticed that all the sharp fangs had been filed down to small, blunt teeth. The biggest pair of fangs had been removed altogether long, long ago. The lack of fangs unnerved him far more than their actual presence would. "There was a thought you were an experiment of the Abby, and perhaps that thought still remains. It was not unfounded at the time, and the messenger still has two month's journey until we hear straight from the Abby Paladins. But where else in Shiiram could you be trained so effectively, so thoroughly that your medical training resurfaces within two days? Not here. Not anywhere close the Square." Allie reappeared at Chall's side, and a pincer gently lifted the skull helm from her wingtips and into its owner's arms. "So doublethought into triplethought.
"Yet quadthought: there is no reason for a Cubone to be here in the Duchy, certainly not the Square. So we here at the Windfall know little of your kind. We've yet to hear from the minds of Ferrocala, but your Totodile friend, as well as the Tapio Minister, seem to agree you are around the age of eleven." The head tilted and the gold eyes narrowed in confusion. "Far too few and far too young for an Abby Cleric—unless triplethought. Yes, unless triplethought is so. Ergo a digression, a revision—quadthought: how many of those years were spent studying medicine? Yet, if there was to be anyone to dedicate the waking hours to it, and then steal even more from the night, it would be a dutiful little Cubone. Hmm. A question for you. Do you remember anything about yourself, David? Not regarding your knowledge, but of you yourself. Anything at all that might have resurfaced over the last few days?"
"Um. N-no?"
"I thought so, yes." Chall stood. "So. It all turns to quinthought now." He paced slowly, lumbering back and forth as he walked, wings flicking beneath his coat to keep balance. "Quin, fifth, five."
David nervously stuck his helm on his head and glanced beyond where Chall had sat. He sighed in relief; on the far side of the room was a table with a chair to the left of it, and there slept Sobek. The Totodile was sprawled out undignified on his back on a pillow similar to David's. Meanwihle, the opposite chair was on the floor on its side, separating a little alcove from the rest of the room with the table far above providing a sort of roof to it. Through a few holes in the ornate woodwork in the back of the chair, David caught a glimpse of blue Minun fur beneath.
Chall stopped on his third lap and was quickly in David's face again. His face was alight in excitement, ears flicking, eyes wide, fangless mouth sneering. "It all turns to quinthought. The point of where that medical knowledge ends and the thoughts that create the very self of David begin. Where would that be? Hmm? Dutiful little Cubone, studying to heal others, hammering the knowledge into his mind to the point where it refuses to be forgotten… yet should the remembering drag out forgotten memories of one's own self? If the two are not interwoven, then they are separate! If they are separate, there are only two answers to be had for you are a Cubone! These memories, they are either indeed separate by nature by ways of such a great mental block far beyond any psychic, or the very concepts that create the self of David… never truly existed."
David blinked. "What… what exactly do you mean that I never existed? My name was the only thing I could remember when I woke up!"
The excitement slipped from Chall's face as he nodded in understanding, the tired blankness returning as he took the clipboard from Allie. He sat down. He recoated his stinger in ink and then found a blank page to scratch lines onto. His eyes followed the morose lines. "You only remembered that your name is David, because that is what others called you. Before that fateful day when you awoke, David was merely a moniker for a malleable slate of a mind. But you awoke; the slate seized a chisel of its own. So began the life of David."
"Doc. I don't understand what you're saying."
"Hmm. David, allow me to—" The Gliscor's ear flicked and he glanced back to Sobek, he had flopped over in his sleep. Chall shook his head and continued, voice low, careful, and saddened, still not meeting David's eye. "Allow me to put it like this, David. As Second Bishop, broken bones are not my concern. What is my concern is all matters of the mind, that is what I specialize in. Not this," he carefully took hold of David's helm in his pincers and lifted it off to wave in front of him. "But this." He gently tapped David's forehead with the other pincer. The helm was handed back to David.
"All minds of Pokemon work in the same way if you understand where they stand from. But that only is true of they are civilized. Now. You are a Cubone, your kind has no feral counterparts anywhere in the Guilded Lands. Yet we live in an age where one in twenty civilized Pokemon—living outside cities like the Square, of course. One in twenty will find themselves lost to a Mystery Dungeon, and six in seven of those trapped inside will never escape it without outside help. And again, that is not counting wilds, whose numbers are perpetually decimated by Mystery Dungeons."
Chall paused, glancing back to the overturned chair before studying David. David was expressionless.
"The intelligent will soon find themselves dead, or worse, Irrational. And, sadly, then will fight those who enter their unfortunate domain, further spreading the Phage. But, a lost battle for them means they have a chance of being freed from their prison. Despite what your Totodile friend believes, an Irrational outside a dungeon quickly calms down. At worst, they become wild or something very close to it. At best, they are a shadow of their former self."
The Gliscor waved a pincer to the Farfetch'd. She seemed to take it as a signal to gather David's tray. He was done eating anyway. She made her way toward and out the door.
"David, look at Allie, my acolyte. She acts oddly, true. But when I first came to the Windfall, I was her acolyte-assistant and she, the Second Bishop. Then, the two of us were consumed by a Dungeon while rushing to give aid. I was soon rescued with my mind intact, but it was another year before Allie was found. By then, she was much like your Minun friend—almost consumed by the Phage. But while the Minun's indomitable willpower kept her mind intact, there was nothing left of Allie. It's been seventeen years since then, and she hasn't recovered. But she can learn. Consider: Allie was forbidden from the kitchen for the sake of everyone's wellbeing, but now she's one of the best chefs here at the hospital. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
David shook his head, eyes empty. But he answered in fever, "You're saying I was an Irrational. And was trained as an Irrational?!"
"Not an Irrational. You were Muted. Somewhere between a feral and an intelligent Pokemon. This is my theory, based on five thoughts: you were lost in a dungeon at a very, very early age. Perhaps a year old, most probably less. You were then rescued and brought to the Abby. I don't know what made them decide to train you in medicine, but they did—perhaps as an experiment to see how blurry that line between intelligent and irrational truly is. Cubone obsess over their passion, and here they had a mind so easily etched upon. Thus, they hewed their thoughts into your own, and so malleable was your mind you accepted every single one without even understanding what was happening.
"And so, with your entire being clay in their hands, they forged that passion into medicine. It was not your choice, David, but you knew no different. This is why you know so much. You were told to study and learn, so you did from the very core of your life to appease the Paladins—they follow Pavstral's behavioral theories to the letter. Do what you are told, earn a reward and think nothing more of the commands. There are several short tests I can check for as the conditioning would be ingrained deep into your mind. However, I digress. Those are for another day, when you are fully rested.
"You were also still Muted, surviving in the dungeon left you a fighter and that remains with you. The fact that it is not suppressed means the Paladins saw some use for you to keep your club. Why? I do not know. Perhaps the Dungeon had some lasting effect, some flaw in the clay they couldn't work out. Still, this quinthought is the only thought I can fathom that explains it all." Chall glanced over his shoulder. "But yes. In short, you cannot forget what you never had. It is not that you have amnesia; it is that you have nothing to remember."
Chall paused. David was looking through him. Listening, but distant. Far, far, far away. Very far. Burry but calm eyes, faint shakes, shuddered breathing. Hanging on every word
The tail moved to take note, but had nothing to write upon.
Chall shifted his jaw. Then he continued. "We don't know what the final bridge between Feral, Muted, and Intelligent Pokémon is. But it happened for you, several days ago. Sobek mentioned you understood the concepts of many things, but were confused all the same. You were suddenly looking at everything from a different angle—imagine a pyramid—you can, yes?"
The faintest of nods.
"Ah excellent. A pyramid you always saw it from the ground, therefore as triangle. But now you are looking at it from a high cliff, and now it's not just a triangle, but has more sides and more points than you thought. Yet you know what it is, it is nothing new, just different from what you perceived before. But new comprehensions have snapped into place—it is just the viewpoint that is giving you vertigo. Your unconscious mind understands quickly, but the conscious one doesn't understand why all the pieces are fitting together. It is the act of understanding that is in and of itself confusing. Sometimes, in order to make sense of it all and remove the vertigo, a Muted Pokemon fabricates memories based on the new ones they make."
David coughed, eyes blurring. His claws gripped at the pillow as he fought to keep the room from spinning. Oh did it spin.
Chall nodded. His words were chosen carefully. "Yes, this is a difficult thing to comprehend and accept. But it will be two months to hear back from the Abbey. Even with the Duchess' emblem she'll still be tangled up in the Abby's border. Still, we will know for sure in due time." His voice dropped low again, "But I mention this to you and you alone, it is best if you tell no one until we are completely sure. While the Duchess is attempting to give aid to the Muted, it's a concept so rapidly introduced that much of the population here in the Duchy are… perhaps it would be easier for you to understand yourself. You have a Mute on your Team, and while we have hid the Phage as best—"
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhh—tsssshhhh!" The noise hit David on the head, snapping him back into the world. The hiss came from beneath the table, and a bleary-eyed face of yellow poked through one of the larger holes in the chair. Minnie whined a chastising sigh, eyes already drooping again.
She then saw David sitting up and snapped awake, thunking her head on the chair. "Dav-vey?" Genuine concern was in her voice and her eyes. David waved blankly. "Dav-vey!" Thunk! There was much scowling as she fought with the chair to free herself. She carefully pulled her head out of the chair, and darted toward Sobek.
"Hold! Do not wake him! It took—"
ZZZZZZZAP!
"KZZZZZZZZ-AAALLFFF-MMPF!"
Chall dropped his forehead into the side of his pincer. "…it… it had taken us forcing seven—seven sleep seeds down his throat before we could get him to sleep." An eye opened to David. "Your partner has severe anxiety issues. He says it's because he's here in the Square; that he doesn't do well in towns and crowds. Sadly, the only thing I can do for him is believe what he says. Snorlaxes go into minor hibernation after six sleep seeds and yet with seven he awakens at any noise."
"Sabby! Sabby! Dav-vey!"
The only sound the Totodile made was a repeated pitiful sobbing that made it very clear to all that Minnie was kicking him awake in case the electric shock and fall to the floor wasn't enough.
Chall obviously made the decision to ignore them. He clicked his pincer, and again took the clipboard from Allie. Wait, when did she get back in the room again? "I will conclude on suggest—" Zap! "—ing... conclude on suggesting that your Team get into the Rescue business—I understand you don't wish to go into dungeons—Muted Pokemon would do anything in their power to prevent it and become deeply disturbed when they do. But you stabilized a fatally wounded Nidoran, on the back of a lurching cart racing down a dirt roadway, while thwarting a group of pursuers at the same time." He hesitated, then let out an anxious laugh. "Perhaps a specialty Rescue Squad, a-a-an adjunct to be hired by other teams to ensure their clients' health—I am not versed in these sort of things but I believe it could be invaluable on certain missions."
The Gliscor cleared his throat and looked up from his clipboard. After finding his voice, he set in a quiet concerned tone. "David, it is best that you are, in fact, from the Abby—otherwise the Paladins will be in complete and total uproar. Can other Teams fend off pursuers? Certainly. Can others stabilize the Nidoran? Not as many, but yes. …I'm just not entirely sure if both can be done at once. Though all the Clerics here at the hospital credit the Nidoran for your success. Death has an utter disdain of his soul."
Chall's voice faded and his jaw clenched.
David let the silence sit for a minute longer. Then, "Sadie didn't make it."
"No. …ah! Hold on a moment—yes! There is that. That. Yes. That."
The pages of the clipboard blurred as Chall flipped to the very bottommost one. His face narrowed in forced annoyance. David didn't object.
"Oh yes. Yes. David, the Duchess wanted a Psychic to check in on your dreams. They were…" he rolled his neck somewhat, "fitful. Now, I don't ask how the Psychics work their magic, or lack thereof, but he apparently managed to get a name. Does… err. Hmm…." Chall grimaced and stifled an irritated grunt. He flipped back the page, eyes skimming over a few lines on the back side of the page. He scowled and rotated the page, "Psychics. Can't be bothered to write correctly or conservatively. An incredible amount of gibberish repeated over and over again, completely incomprehensible and yet somehow worth my time—ah! There! The name appears to be… how would you say…? Oh. Oh! I see. Pondoria. No, Paaan-deira? That would be Pandaria then…? No, that's—oh, choose one dialect and stick with it you insufferable Psychics! AH! Pandora!"
my arms hurt David, I can't.
I am not going to leave you here on your own!
But it hurts, David, It hurts…
"Hmm, I thought as much. My apologies." Chall mumbled, squinting at the lines on the page. "I'll make a note to track down the Psychic and get a reasonable answer out of him. …so long as I can decrypt exactly what the name of the Psychic was—I'll have to ask the overseers on this floor. This was all done without my knowledge. The first I had heard of it was in passing on my way to this room—there is a specific reason why Psychics are not Second Bishops. Very fragile minds are very impressionable. If it was not just sheer observation, I would be extremely angry. Instead, I am just extremely saddened by the Duchess' lack of faith in me." His voice faded into mumblings.
"Y-yeah. Sure." David blinked, flicking his tail to shake off the anxiety. "Um. So I can go?"
Chall ignored him for a moment, still muttering under his breath as he looked for the ink pot on the floor to dip his tail into, then dotted several notes before realizing the question. He double-taked. "Go? Go where? Oh! Yes! Ah yes, you can leave. I don't see any reason not to, seeing your friends are now awake. I will remain in touch with you of course, in case there's anything you need. Yes, it is time for you toooo…."
There was a fast, upbeat knocking at the door and Chall's blank face fell into an obvious annoyed grimace.
"I rephrase," He said sourly. "It is time I am on my way. Time, always losing track of time, you should have been out before she arrived!" He frantically flipped through the pages and back again. "I delayed so many things to later! Where did the time go?"
The knocking came again. Allie had taken to bracing against the door. Chall put a pincer to his temple. "Naturally, your guest cannot bear to wait because her frivolous nonsensities are far more important than healing. I will attempt to delay her, as much as it pains me. But your friends should at least have a moment to say good afternoon." He stood abruptly, face hardening as he steeled himself. "I will contact you in a day or two to see how you are adjusting. Hopefully, your Totodile friend would have calmed down by then." He nodded with a slight bow, then hobbled off. He paused a moment to steel himself, then nodded to his assistant. In a blur, the Farfetch'd was through the door with Chall hobbling quickly after her and forcefully closing the door.
The din of a disagreement murmured its way through the wood and David turned his attention to the one growing in the room.
"I'm just sayin' it could be worse—ow, stop that!
"Pffffffff. Icky, skritch-itch-itch, dahhhhhh!"
"Heyheyheyheyhey! Don't rip it! Minnie, the entire point of it is to not make you look like an irrational. When we get out of the Square, then you can—hey, no—stopitstopitstopitstop—if you rip this one then they'll just an even worse one for you!"
Somewhere in the room there was a very unhappy Minun. Somewhere in the room was a very pathetic sounding Totodile.
With a hefty huff, David abandoned his pillow throne and crawled to the edge of the bed. He'd have to figure out a way to sneak it back to his home later….
Sobek groaned. "Okay. Thank—OW!"
Indeed, there was a very pathetic-looking Totodile below, standing opposite a wide, blue circle of a hat. The hat sported Minun ears that poked through the white cloth flowers that lined the brim. The right ear was wrapped in bandages and the more he looked at it the more he realized that that hat was actually quite well made.
"…what's with the hat?"
"Pffffff! Atta-atta. Atta-atta." The blue circle scoffed its disdain of the world.
"It's… a very nice hat," David backstepped. "Just not a hat that fits her."
"Dav-vey." She seemed to be in agreement.
The Totodile climbed and flopped onto the stool. "Blarhhggggthhhhh. …don't take her side on this. It hides the fact that she's an irrational. She just hates it more than she hates me."
"Pfff."
Sobek retorted from his back. "No matter how much grooming and 'battle injuries' they give you, Minnie, it's still obvious you have Dungeon Phage." With extreme effort, the Totodile pushed himself up to sit. He glumly met David's confusion with sickly blanched scales, and sagging demeanor. His bloodshot eyes were dimmed with deep rings of darker blues below them. "Her fur's so uneven they had to make it look like she was burned by the Cyndaquil and fake a few wounds to bandage."
"Well," David blanked. "It's… a very nice hat at least?"
Sobek swallowed a laugh, for his own sake. "It's more than the hat—but enough about that. You okay, David?"
David sat back on the bed, tilting his head. Well, he had a slight headache, but that was never new. No bones were broken, nothing hurt, his thoughts were clear.
He nodded. "I think I'm fine."
"You sure? You were out for, like, three days—"
"What—three—why didn't Chall say anything about that?!"
Sobek glanced down, exchanging an apprehensive glance with the blue hat. "I think me and Minnie agree that the best way to answer that is it's Chall. He's… a bit off." The hat nodded, spinning bandaged fingers around the ears. "But yeah, out for three. Well. Two, technically." He glanced away, grimacing. "David, if you're going have nightmares like that, warn me. Geez."
"Geeeuuughhh."
"I… remember something, something telling me stuff. What to do? I'm not sure what and I don't remember any of it, but… it didn't feel like a nightmare."
Sobek's face went plain. Forced. "That's probably for the best." The hat seethed.
David opened his mouth, then got the hint. "…how are you two doing?"
"I've been shocked about twenty times today," Sobek said as his face drooped. "I don't know if I even slept since we got here—"
The door quickly opened then slammed shut again—Allie was braced against the door. Her eyes shifted around the room. Once, twice. Suddenly she had Sobek's arm, then the poor Totodile was nothing but a blue blur through the door.
"Sabby—KA-HAHAHAAAHAAA!"
"Um."
Chall's head poked through, "Apologies. Compromises have been made." The door closed.
David looked down to the hat. "Minnie, what is going on?"
"HAHAHAHAAAUUUGGHHHHhhhhh." Minnie's laughter ended with a defeated sob. The hat walked over to the far side of the room. She turned, throwing her arms up in frustrated resignment.
David blinked.
David blinked.
David's head tilted in disbelief.
David blinked.
David's head tilted the other way. "They're making you wear that."
Minnie wore a dress. A loose, simple, light blue cotton dress. There was a yellow ribbon at the collar, the sleeves were cuffed around the elbows and had a bit of puff to them. Her left arm and right eye were covered in bandage wrap, as were her hands. The hem of the dress was at her feet.
She scratched at her right shoulder, bearing teeth and made it clear she wanted to gnaw the fabric off. Sparks flew from her cheeks.
David raised his helm to scratch behind his ear. "I mean. Well. It could be worse, yeah—but why are they making you wear that?! You look like a little dress-up doll for—well not little b-but— but why!? The hat, the hat I can understand, maybe without the flowers but—"
"Da! Da!" She seethed, pointing to him in agreement with the hand not trying to scratch her back. "Itch-itch-itch-ich-ch-ch!"
"Huh." David settled his helm with a shake of his head. "I just don't know, Minnie."
The Minun shifted to scratching the bandages on her arm, then paused. "Mmmmm-in. Ay. N-nnnnn-nuhhh." She knew what she wanted to say. She just couldn't make the right sounds—her entire face flinched in pain every time she got close. She forced more syllables. "E-e-exay mm—min. Nay. Min. Nay N-n-exay."
"Not Minnie?" The Minun nodded. "You don't want to be called Minnie."
She shook her head. "N-n-nnn. Oooot. M-min. Nay."
To fair, she never did have a say in the matter. It was given out of pure necessity.
"I see. That's easy enough, I suppose. I think Seve just called you that because it was better than Minun. Alright, not by much, it's pretty bad. What is your name then?"
She let her arms fall, her face a frustrated frown.
"Um, can you try to say it? You really do get close to things if you really try."
The Minun huffed. She tapped her forehead twice before going cross eyed, tongue stuck out with hands flailing next to her ears.
It took a few seconds for it to click. David slumped. "You can't remember?" She stayed quiet, half-glaring and half nodding. Well, based on what Chall was saying earlier, "You can't remember anything from before you went irrational."
She nodded simply. "Da."
…and Chall starts making some semblance of sense. That is precisely the last thing Chall needs to do right now.
"So… I'm sorry if you don't know this, but is this common for all irrationals? That they can't remember anything?"
She shrugged, yet nodded. She hopped in epiphany. "Dav-vey." She pointed at him, then went cross-eyed.
"Eh-heh. Yeah. I can't remember anything either. Chall—don't tell Sobek this, but…" He glanced to the door, shifting his jaw for a moment. He nodded to himself. "Chall thought I always was irrational—muted, he called it. That's apparently what you are, rational irrational." He shook his head. "He said I can't remember anything because there isn't anything to remember—but there are things I remember. Bits and pieces and figments that just shove their way into my head and… I get lost in them without any say in the matter. Not just the healing stuff, but—but actual memories. I just can't remember them after they pass."
"Pfffffff, sha!" She was snickering. Not in a mocking way, or at least not at him. So if not at him, then at Chall? If at Chall then—
"So I didn't go irrational then…?"
The Minun shook her head, "Urr? Durrrrrr!" She pointed at him, then pulled at her dress with a disgusted face.
David snickered. "Good point—"
The door launched open: "Haaallooooo, Daaaviiid~~!"
"GYYYAAAAHHHH!"
The Minun barely made it back to her hidey hole before red and blue and brown and cyan and green and red and turquoise and purple and blue and turquoise and cyan and stars and stars and stars and—
"There! Standing all nice and pretty! Now now—up-up-up!"
David was standing. David was standing far too tall for his own comfort and not by his own doing. Arms were pulled straight arms were pulled out to his sides arms were pulled over his head. His helm was taken, replaced, taken, replaced—he caught the pink whirl.
It was… slimy?
The reds and greens and blues and browns and cyans all condensed into swaths of fabrics, leathers, Sobek, felts, all neatly stored away in shelves and hangers. He was standing on a podium, a tall podium with himself at least twice his height off the ground with little candles with mirrors focusing the light directly on him. The podium was on a large dolly with everything else.
Then the pink solidified. The face of a Lickitongue formed in front of him. It was far, far, far too happy. It wore a simple yellow dress with many pockets and a wool bonnet on its head.
A very real and rational fear took hold of David as he jerked his hand away. "You are a tailor."
"Indeed I am!" The Lickitongue was far too happy in answering.
Tailor? Tailors made clothes, right? Or at least fitted them to their owners.
Wait.
"Doesn't a tailor need measuring stuff to measure with?"
"Oh, don't you worry about that, David! I—"
"Oh gods no."