I'm having stream of consciousness issues today. My heads a little fuzzy so the chapter is a little short.
Dialog Will be filled in. When is up to me and how I feel next week.
I'd like to say thank you again to everyone who favorited or followed in the last week.
Last I'd like to say thanks to the creators of Whoohoo, I use it for all of the scotsman's translations, I wouldn't be able to do it without their excellent website.
On a side note, I'm not happy with this chapter I just can't do anything about it right now.
o0OXWX…..Taylor Hebert…..XWXO0o
The sounds of a fight filled my ears for a few seconds, but all is silent now. I groan, maybe if I make a noise someone will fill me in on what's happening.
"... ork ...gether. Ne.. … ..lp." Crap. Still can't hear very well. I always read that sensory deprivation could kill a person's mind, and now I kinda believe it. Can't see very well, can't hear very well, can't move. ".. netic ..tation.. option." At least the voice sounds nice. It reminds me of some of my mom's work friends, intelligent, cunning, and most of all compassionate.
"... … ..anacea?" That one, not so much. Hard and unyielding, it's not a very nice voice.
"...?" The first voice is back. I wish it wouldn't go.
"ca.. … ...cea?" Ack. It's like being hit in the ear drum with a brick made of stupid.
"Bu. … … ... Hero!" My dad. He's still holding onto my hand. Still with me. Whatever strength I have is being dedicated to holding on.
I groan again. Only catching snatches of words is really starting to grate on my nerves. Which reminds me. OW! Whatever they had me on either wore off or burned away with the light. I hope they stop talking and pay attention soon.
"Wh.. .. H..t? It would help if I could understand you dad. At least he's actually talking at me now.
"Do .. ...ermision …?" I grunt this time. It's getting to hard to groan. Hurts too much.
There's a clatter in the background and the first and second voices speak, but it's much to soft for me to even make out snips. I get the unmistakable feeling of being leaned over and a small circle is pressed into my neck. I wonder what it is, but before long a soft hiss reverberates through my skin. Warmth spreads through me, starting in my neck but working its way down through my system, dulling pain as it goes. Finally settling in my brain like a dense fog.
The fog lingers for a moment, but is swiftly cleared. It feels almost like someone turned the ventilation in my skull on for the first time. At least the pain is still muted.
"... … uncon... . ...st ..urio.." I wonder for the first time why I feel so good listening to a stranger's voice. Then I remember that Morgan Freeman is a thing. Maybe it's not so weird. "...ger dose. ...n't wor.. ..k .. ..ould"
".. ...ould ..t ..or .. pana.." The gruff voice again. Why is it even here. It's not helping.
".. do .. ..ow." Trust. That's the word I would use to describe how I feel about that voice. I've never seen its owner but I implicitly trust it not to hurt me, but there's something else. I can almost hear it, but… not… not in the voice. I can.. hear it, for lack of a better word, in my mind. I can hear it saying something about the voice.
It speaks with no voice. Like a stream of ideas, not my own, slipping into my thoughts. Not controlling, helping. Filling in the blanks. Helping me know the voice's origin. I know where it's coming from. I know it wants to help. I can almost know what it's saying. It's there I just can't reach it.
In time… It not-whispers.
It dawns on me. Voices in my head. Giant dialog boxes floating in my mind's eye. Knowing a voice. So this is what crazy feels like. I kinda want to cry a little, and can feel the moisture begin to form in the corners of my eyes. I… I guess they win…
"Sae, yoo're jist gonna gie up? They win? If Ah hud jist laid doon an' lit mah enemies win, mah haem woods hae bin consumed by Aku."
("So, you're just gonna give up? They win? If I had just laid down and let my enemies win my home would have been consumed by Aku.")
Gah! What the hell was that? Another voice in my head. God I'm crazier than I thought.
"Lassie, if ye thooght up mah entire personality, memories an' aw, Ah woods be amazed. But aam bonnie sure ye didne."
("Girl, if you thought up my entire personality, memories and all, I would be amazed. But I'm pretty sure you didn't.")
Oh look, The voices in my head are responding to my thoughts. Great.
"Is 'at anyway tae address yer rescuer? Ah dornt hink awa' wae th' fairies anyway. Ah cannae afford tae lit ye hink 'at either, coz if awa' wae th' fairies it means Ah dornt exist."
("Is that anyway to address your rescuer? I don't think you're crazy anyway. I can't afford to let you think that either, because if you're crazy it means I don't exist.")
Ok… voice in my head. If you want me to talk to you I guess there's no way for me to refuse, and I can always see a shrink later. So, what do I call you oh mighty rescuer?
"That's interestin', Ah can taste yer sarcasm. it's th' scotsman, by th' way. Ah dornt min' mah given nam sae dornt ask."
("That's interesting, I can taste your sarcasm. It's The Scotsman, by the way. I don't remember my given name so don't ask.")
There's a shuffling. In my head. Hows he doing that?
"Dornt ask me. It's yer heed. Noo, let's shed some lecht oan uir discussion."
("Don't ask me. It's your head. Now, let's shed some light on our discussion.")
Click.
What sounds suspiciously like a pull chain being tugged on immediately precedes a blinding light flaring throughout my mindscape. It takes a moment for my metaphoric eyes to adjust, but once they do I'm startled to see a giant man sitting on a small plastic chair next to a box fan. All around us is a featureless black void except for the heavy looking matte black door off to my left. The man is holding onto a pull-chain, linked to the single naked light bulb that hangs from the infinite blackness above.
I have a really dull imagination.
"Ah dornt hink thes place is finished yit. Ah cannae dae anythin' wi' it. Althoogh th' reek ay magic an' potential is heavy in th' air, but we'll lae 'at fur anither time."
("I don't think this place is finished yet. I can't do anything with it. although the reek of magic and potential is heavy in the air, but we'll leave that for another time.")
Wait. Box fan. You have got to be kidding me. My mental fog was literally blown away? Ok maybe I underestimated my imagination.
Or maybe I'm just crazier than I thought.
The towering man sighs. "We've got a lang way tae gang, an' Ah hink ye shoods spend th' next while in haur anyway."
("We've got a long way to go, and I think you should spend the next while in here anyway.")
Spend some time in here? What does that mean? I'm not in anywhere. Except, it's been awhile since I heard anything from my own ears. Come to think of it I'm not getting anything from any of my real senses. I should focus on that, no need to feed the crazy.
"Ah pure wooldnae dae 'at. Mordin's in th' wey o start oan yer surgery an' th' anesthetic isnae pure workin'. If ye gang it thaur yoo're gonna be in agony."
("I really wouldn't do that. Mordin's about to start on your surgery and the anesthetic isn't really working. If you go out there you're gonna be in agony.")
Who's Mordin, and why is he performing surgery on me? and now that I think about it, how the hell do you know?
"Mordin's fa ye pit in mah place. Hoo Ah ken is a lot mair complicated. Let's jist say 'at Ah can hear it an' move oan."
("Mordin's who you put in my place. How I know is a lot more complicated. Let's just say that I can hear it and move on.")
Alrighty then, agonizing pain doesn't really sound all that appetizing so I'll stay here for a while. I just… I guess I trust you. I just don't know why.
"Let's see if we cannae wark 'at it. together."
("Let's see if we can't work that out. Together.")