Chapter Text
Dedusmuln sweeps their gaze once more over the photographs covering the table.
Some of the Wayniforms shown are simply natural phenomena, they'd wager: bits of the landscape that happened to erode into the shape of two horns. Then there are crescent-topped urns and figurines that offer more intriguing implications. The most tantalizing pair of pictures, though... They pick up one of them, a distant view of two spires of rock emerging from the sea, hovering between them in the night sky the twinkling cluster of debris that had once been a moon. In their other hand they take the second photo, a closer look at the same location in daytime, revealing that the stone horns curved beneath the water to join at a base.
They put the photos down and sigh.
Across the table, knight-errant Pongorma, respectfully silent during their contemplation, at last says, "My work is unsatisfactory."
The ever-level intonation of his sepulchral voice fails to hide his disappointment from Dedusmuln. They reassure him, "No, not at all! Quite the contrary, I couldn't have asked for a better collection. I'm only thinking about, you know, the logistics of such an expedition..."
"Ah. Well, better to go now while it's cold and dry, rather than cold and wet."
"Yeah, that's my biggest concern," they muse, staring at the paired photos. "I'd have to seriously fast-track it to get there before winter sets in—if I decide to do it at all. ... Oh, what am I saying? I surely will." They sigh at the prospect of writing a great many emails tomorrow morning—and then look to Pongorma, lightening up. "Nevertheless, thank you, my friend. This was hardly the foremost purpose of your trip, yet you've gone to great lengths to help me."
"Think nothing of it."
"Say, what will you do now that you're back?"
"I'm not yet certain." He folds his arms and exhales quietly. "To be frank... the same inertia that kept me sessile in that old vault through the years... may be surfacing anew."
"Well, you've been questing ceaselessly since Gibby was felled, haven't you? Think you've more than earned a rest. I'm happy to offer you a space in my abode, but try asking Somsnosa about her own apartment first. She has a television."
"Hmm. Perhaps I shall."
At this point Dedusmuln thinks to check the clock, and goodness, they're glad they did. "Oh dear, is that really the time?" they say, gathering the photographs, regardless taking care to sort them into neatly-clipped piles.
"You've an appointment?" asks Pongorma as he stands up to lend a hand.
"Something like that. I'm terribly sorry. Truthfully, it's not for a little longer, but I've got to get prepared."
"What is it, if I may ask?"
"Oh, I'm just—" here they must pause, however briefly, to summon the wherewithal to speak his name— "meeting Wayne for dinner."
"Oh. I see."
"But don't—don't get the wrong idea," they're quick to tell him, punctuating with a nervous chuckle. "I-it's not a, date, or anything like that. We're just gonna, you know, meet up, as friends are wont to do—"
He lays a solemn hand on their shoulder, silencing them instantly. "It's okay to be in love." They just nod, unable to muster any sort of denial to him. He releases them and continues, "Although... Wayne... I can't say I expected that."
"Uh, why not?"
"He doesn't strike me as... your type. He is remarkably incurious."
"Oh, I don't know if I would phrase it so. It's more like he's, hmm, content to inhabit his own world. And I don't have a problem with that. God knows how fully I get absorbed in my special interests." They laugh gently at themself, and their next words seem to happen of their own volition: "But he's sweet, in his own sort of way, don't you think? He always looked out for us when we were all traveling together, and he cares for his larva siblings..."
Pongorma actually starts laughing, a throaty chortle subtly reverberated in his helmet.
Why must they keep saying things like that...? They rub their neck, quite embarrassed. "Forget I said that..."
His tone is only warm when he responds, "Apologies, Dedusmuln, truly. I wish you the best of luck."
Presently without the heart to explain the depth of their reservations, they just smile and thank him.
"Certainly. Though, when you see him... I should inform you that he has acquired an unusually constructed pair of boots, with which he can—"
"Oh, no, no, I know. I'm aware."
"Ah. Very well."
They stop by Somsnosa's again, just for a bit. She insisted, and it's on the way—and maybe she can provide some direly-needed reassurance, too.
"Hey, Dedusmuln. You dressed up, huh?" she says as she lets them inside.
"Did I? I thought I was attiring myself more casually," they say, glancing down at their cardigan and button-up. They miss the comforting weight of their doctoral armor and sword, but somehow they doubted those were appropriate for the occasion.
"I dunno, it's sorta dressy for what we're—like, what Wayne and I are used to, but I mean... Where did you say you're taking him, again?"
"Oh, I didn't. I let him decide where we're eating." She purses her lips. "... What's that look for?"
"Okay, I'm not saying you goofed up already, but it's just... he has no standards. Ugh, he's gonna take you to a chip shop or something for your first date."
At the final word, their horns twitch peevishly (and, behind them, their face warms). "First of all, it's not a date."
"It kind of is."
"We're not dating, so it's not a date. And second of all, what does it matter where we go? Isn't the most important thing that we enjoy each other's company?"
"That's, like, the most generous possible way of looking at it. Oh my god, you're too good for him; you're too good for all of us!"
"What? Don't say that. I'm not better than any of you."
"Mmm, you kind of are, though? Like, think about it!" she implores them before they can object again. "We're a bunch of weirdos! Pongorma's a million-year-old grandpa; Wayne's this weird bug who crawled out of the afterlife to get raised by this, like, monastic order of assassins?? And you've already seen what a schlub I am! But then we got Doctor Dedusmuln over here—"
For some reason, it's the off-campus utterance of their title that's the final straw. "Somsnosa, I came here for help. You told me you were gonna help me," they say, their exasperated hands gesturing sharply between them, "so is that what this is?? Is that what's going on right now?"
She shrugs her broad shoulders and concedes, "All right, I guess. But I'm just sayin'. His loss if he doesn't say yes."
"You're very kind. Let's move on though."
"Well, have a seat then," she says, motioning to the couch. "You want anything? Snacks, drinks? I know you're having dinner soon, but."
They sit themself stiffly on the edge, Somsnosa more easily lounging next to them. "I'm good, thanks. I'm not really hungry anyway."
"Nervous?"
"To say the least." With each passing minute, of which there are distressingly few left until their not-a-date, the feeling that they're about to make a terrible mistake creeps closer upon them. The ends of their horns wilt as they admit, "I don't know if I can do this," with a half-hearted laugh, like that makes what they're saying any better.
Her disappointment is barely contained. "Yo..."
"I know, I know, but I didn't really think about how... how I would have to be in his actual physical presence, and then use my words to tell him about my feelings! ... Okay, when I put it that way it sounds really stupid, but—"
"No, no, I get it, believe me. Are you sure you don't want me to just, like, tell him for you?"
They exhale heavily. A way out, and how tidy it would be, too. But, unhappily, they must tell her, "Yes, I'm sure. I did swear."
"That's true... Why did you do that?"
"Uhhh, you asked me to."
She sighs too and rubs her face, hissing a swear of a different sort into her hand. "I did, didn't I? Sorry."
"It's fine... I've made my bed and I'll lie in it."
"Hmmm. Well, look, I dunno about you but I've always found that, like... as impossible and intimidating as it might seem right now, once you see them and start talking to them and get the ball rolling, it's not as bad as you thought. And hey, it's Wayne! He's already your friend, and the Waynes are like, the easiest people to talk to on the entire planet."
"Ha, I suppose so..."
Maybe she's right. They haven't had a real conversation with him since they all went their separate ways after the victory concert. It may well be that their lovesick daze made them forget what it's actually like to talk to him, and—wait, that's bad, that's bad. That just means it's all the more likely they'll be an absolute disaster around him, oh no...
None the wiser to their inner turmoil, Somsnosa continues, "You know, one time I got wasted and rambled at him about the plot of my favorite game for, like, a whole hour; he ate that up."
"Did he really?"
"Sure did. I mean, in the way that he does: sits there and just vibes with the words coming outta your mouth."
"But how do you know he's not listening out of politeness? Or he's not simply enjoying the sound of, you know, your radio show voice?"
She giggles at the compliment and says, "Well, he tries to be polite but he doesn't try that hard."
"How can you tell? He emotes so little and—I already have trouble reading people, but he's—"
"Look, Dedusmuln," she interrupts as kindly as possible, "I think you're psyching yourself out pretty bad here. Just take a step back, yeah? Ask yourself... what's the worst that could happen? He turns you down, and that's it. Don't get me wrong, that's still awful, but it'll pass—"
"Actually, the worst that could happen is, I bungle it so hard, he no longer wants anything to do with me."
"Oh, that's not gonna happen, don't worry," is her breezy reply.
"... How can you be sure?"
"Well, because I'm still his friend, even though..." They're disconcerted to see her good spirits fade so quickly, crimson eyes downcast. Regret leadens her words: "I used to be, sort of, really mean to him. Back when we shared an apartment."
"Oh, um, really?"
"Y-you don't have to act surprised," she chuckles weakly, though it was no act: for all that she loves to tease and sass her friends, they can't imagine her doing it with real malice. "The point is... what it must take to drive him away... I don't think you'd go anywhere near that far."
There is little time to reflect on that statement; as if she herself is loath to dwell on the memories, she hurries along to another, lighter topic.
"You know what? Here's something that might help. Well, it's only a theory—sorry, a 'hypothesis'—" she does air quotes with a knowing smile, at which Dedusmuln scoffs fondly— "but let me tell you, I've been squeezing this stone dry of hemolymph over the past eight years. ... Hrm, and saying that out loud just instantly aged me another eight years. But anyway.
"He's... uh... actually not that dense."
"Yeah, I know that." There's plenty of evidence for it; they most vividly recall the Foglast television, with the whole crew let down that they forked over so many bones for such a niche gesture—except for Wayne, the cursed gloves already on his hands.
"But I mean, it's more like... he's willfully vacant...? Is that right?" she asks herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. "God, I've never had to articulate this before. What I'm getting at is... If he looks like he's not paying attention when he probably should be, there might be some kind of, you know, non-obvious reason for it. Like... maybe he doesn't want to get involved for some reason, or there's something bothering him. Maybe he's just tired, I dunno; stuff like that. Does that... make sense?"
"It does, it does," they assure her. In fact, they can relate quite strongly, particularly from their youth.
"Okay, good. Like, I know he's usually a little more animated around us anyway, but, hey, maybe it'll help."
"Well, thank you. I really am grateful for all your support... even if you apparently can't resist being cheeky at the same time," they pretend to gripe, their horns finally starting to lift.
Somsnosa laughs, perfectly happy to play both angel and devil. "What are friends for, huh?" Then she grins at them in a manner they don't clock as suspicious until it's too late. "Hey, if it works out, you'll be over the moon in more ways than—"
They get up and make for the exit. "And that's all the time I have for today; thank you so much for having me over."
Her delighted cackle follows them to the door.
And before Dedusmuln must step outside and go to whatever fate awaited them that evening, she claps a hand to their back and asks, "You ready?"
"More so than before. But no."
When she smiles this time, it's soft and sympathetic. "You'll be all right, mate, one way or another. But you gotta be real with him; that's where it has to start."
"Yeah," they say, with a resigned nod. "Well, I'll let you know how it goes."
"Can't wait. Godspeed, buddy."