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[assistente]

written correspondence preferred. please don't leave complaints here.

Comments

[skulltasm]

REALLY? PERHAPS I WAS MISTAKEN. YOU COULD HAVE A NEMESIS, THEN.

[ He bobs gently, turning his once again empty sockets to "look" at Salvio. Almost hastily, this addendum: ]

I DON'T MEAN ME, OF COURSE. I'M SIMPLY THE...TOKEN. IMAGINE HOW THAT MUST MAKE ME FEEL, BEING GIVEN TO SOMEONE LIKE SOME SORT OF KNICK-KNACK.

[assistente]

[A nemesis is somehow less terrifying a prospect, and more to be expected. Salvio leaves the blanket where it is all the same, and does not attempt to rise from the peculiar half-curl that he's adapted on the mattress of the other bed.

He considers the unnamed nemesis. And then the Skull.]

I-- well, I-- I would not call you a knick-knack. Myself. [Mostly because that is not a word that Salvio knows. Or is it two words? But anyways, he is telling the truth, there.] I... um, well--I wouldn't.

[skulltasm]

[ This time the Skull turns the opposite direction, away from Salvio. Dramatically. ]

YOU'RE JUST SAYING THAT TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER.

[assistente]

[With full and fervent honesty:]

I am not.

[Um. He... unclenches the blanket. Somewhat.]

Who-- who is it, that-- that placed you, in such a way?

[skulltasm]

[ It swivels a fraction of the way back. ]

YOU MEAN IT?

[assistente]

[Um.]

Well-- no. I do not-- would not-- Um, that is-- [How about just a simple--] No.

[skulltasm]

NO MEANING YOU DON'T MEAN IT? OR NO MEANING YOU WOULDN'T CALL ME A KNICK-KNACK?

[ It continues to slowly turn. ]

[assistente]

N--

[By the Maker, the slowness of the turn is worse somehow than any alternative. Like a third horrible moon, showing its face. Salvio's fingers constrict on the blanket.]

The second! The, the latter, of the-- I would not call you a knick-knack!

[skulltasm]

[skulltasm]

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A KNICK-KNACK IS, DO YOU.

[assistente]

An... object of some sort, [Salvio hazards, boldly, but deflates immediately after. I do not know. Not precisely. But-- all the more reason that I would not call you anything of the-- anything close, to-- that.

[skulltasm]

THEN THAT MEANS YOU CAN'T KNOW HOW DEMEANING IT IS TO BE TREATED LIKE ONE! WHICH MEANS YOU ARE JUST SAYING THAT TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!

WELL THE JOKE'S ON YOU, SALLY, I DON'T HAVE FEELINGS.

[ A theatrical sniffle would not be out of place with the Skull's tone, but he doesn't want to oversell it. ]

[assistente]

I--

[Shit. Salvio releases some measure of his grip on the blanket again, coaxed to lean forward by the timbre of despair he can hear in this voice.

Is he hearing this voice? Truly, it is hard to say. It seems to enter by way of his ears--so the Skull must be speaking, and he must be hearing what it is speaking, and anything else or more need not be considered. He swallows, hard.]

I suppose I might have the-- the merest-- Well. If you told me.

[None of this is settling the question of how the Skull came to be within his bed in the first place--by whose hand--but that can come in a bit.]

[skulltasm]

[ Who knows, perhaps the voice is being projected directly into your brain, Sal. Or worse yet, perhaps you're imagining it talking. Have you seen anyone else talking to this blasted thing? Troubling... ]

A USELESS OBJECT, THE SORT OF THING YOU PUT ON A SHELF BECAUSE IT'S NEAT AND THEN YOU FORGET ABOUT IT AND IT SITS THERE FOR YEARS, GATHERING DUST, UNTIL SOMEONE DECIDES IT SERVES NO PURPOSE AND YOU REGIFT IT OR THROW IT IN THE REFUSE PILE!

[ No, it is definitely talking, there are others in the group quarters who glance over when the thing speaks, some proceeding to mutter about cursed objects and some giving Salvio significant looks that hint at them misunderstanding why the skull is in the Seneschal's bed. ]

[assistente]

I--

[All too aware of the eyes of judgement behind him, the murmurs that question his motives, this arrangement, Salvio dives back for his bed. He is being watched, and this has made up his mind, committed him to bridge the gap between him and the Skull.

Only now that he's here, his skin crawls. He is entirely too close.

But... at least he's not imagining the talking. Small comfort. In a low and urgent tone:]

I would not say that of you! Any of it, any of it at all. [He tries to position himself between the Skull and the others in the room, shielding this strange object from their sight. Object? Is he part of the problem?] A, ah, thing, you are not-- Or no more than-- than any other thing. Person. Yes. I am sure-- all things, people, have-- purpose. Of some sort.

[skulltasm]

WHY, SALLY, THAT WAS ALMOST CONVINCING.

[assistente]

Thank you.

[--is his automatic response. He winces slightly at himself.]

I mean-- well, I did mean it. Do, mean it. It is what I believe.

[skulltasm]

WELL THEN, ON THE SUBJECT OF BELIEVING THINGS...
[ He looks left, looks right, tips in his jar as if leaning conspiratorially. ]

WOULD YOU BELIEVE THAT YOUR SECRET ADMIRER IS...

[assistente]

I haven't--

[But in spite of himself, Salvio has leaned forward by one small jot. It cannot be helped. It is a natural reaction, when someone leans in conspiratorially toward you to impart a secret. Even if that someone is a disembodied skull in a jar.]

Whoever you are going to say, cannot be--

[By the Maker.]

Who?

somewhere, a headless corpse's pants are on fire

[skulltasm]

...TEREN.

at least we know which body belongs to skull now

[assistente]

[Salvio leans back. His face tells a story of confusion and disbelief.]

W-What?

and someone none the wiser is very confused

[skulltasm]

YOU KNOW... TEREN. MATURE WOMAN? SCARS? ALWAYS LOOKS LIKE SHE BIT INTO A RAW ONION?

[assistente]

Yes-- Yes, yes, I know who--

[The blanket he was clutching has been lost from his hands now, and it would not be right to snatch it up again. Much as he wants to. Salvio looks around with great urgency, but there are no others who seem to be listening to this-- this-- whatever this is.]

You are mistaken. Please.

[skulltasm]

REALLY? IS THERE A TEREN LOOKALIKE AROUND, THEN?

[assistente]

What? No! I mean to say, if there is, I do not--

[Salvio rubs a hand over his face. Then he pushes a hand through his hair. His fingers are trembling, a little.]

There has been some mistake, is what I mean. Surely there has been some mistake. A-- A, an incident in the past that you have confused--or, well, not confused, but-- Not to place blame, or-- but you are confused. Surely. Pleased. [Wait, no--] Er, please. That is. Please.