Work Text:
Soon.
You.
Davenport.
Face.
Please.
You.
Soon.
Ah, fuck. They’re going to worry about her, huh?
Lup took a deep drink of the soup Taako had made for dinner last night and sighed. She wouldn’t be gone long. Maybe a week at the most. The trip out to Phandalin wasn’t too egregious, but who knew how long the rest would take.
She tipped her head back and finished the last of the broth, chewed her lip anxiously. She didn’t want them following her, this was something she had to do on her own.
Hm.
She rinsed the empty mug a couple times in the sink. Reapplied her lipstick, not sure what to do.
It felt unfair to just disappear, no matter how brief the journey.
Lup did a quick search through the cluttered kitchen, and smiled when she found one of Lucretia’s notebooks. Creesh left them littered across the Starblaster, “in case of emergency,” which really was ridiculous since she didn’t go anywhere without one, so when would there ever be an emergency?
Lup blinked. What was she supposed to be doing?
Ah.
Yes.
She conjured a quill and scrawled a quick message near the back, then tore the page out and tossed the book back to it’s original place near one of Merle’s succulents.
Lup banished the quill and kissed the note. Shit, she nailed that. A perfect imprint. ‘Fuckin’ nice one, Lup,’ she told herself, and with that she grabbed her robe and headed out.
Back soon.
On their 15th cycle, the Starblaster’s crew found themselves on a plane in which the most accessible thing its citizens had to eat were massive creatures comparable to hogs. Despite this, they did find a group of people who were incredibly well versed on the health risks and benefits of a high fat diet. They taught Taako how to utilise every part of the hog-like creatures, they taught Magnus how to take three down in one hit, and they taught Merle the term “transient global amnesia,” a condition caused by what they called “ischemia,” which occurred due to elevated levels of something called “cholesterol” in a patients “bloodstream.”
Didn’t make a lick of sense to Merle, and he basically wrote them off as loony. But 85 years later, somehow his brain makes that connection when Davenport drops his tarot cards, he’s sweating, and blinking, and looks generally nothing like the gnome who manned the Starblaster for a century.
He looks like he’s gonna be sick, and he’s tugging on his earlobe like he would when they would have a particularly bad run in with the Hunger, or when one of them would die too early into a cycle. It’s a nervous habit, one Merle hasn’t seen him do in a while.
“Wait...” Dav presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, he’s hyperventilating. “Wait... Where am I?” There’s a beat, and he looks up at Merle, scanning every inch of his face frantically. “You’re.. you’re Merle, right? I know you... what’s going on?”
Uh oh. Classic transient global amnesia. Fuck.
But before Merle can relay any information, it’s gone. And it’s on the tip of his tongue and then it’s not. And he doesn’t know how to help the frantic gnome in front of him, the man who has tears streaming down his face and his right earlobe is turning red from how viciously he’s yanking on it.
He glances out a window and holy shit they’re up high. Oh, fuck. There’s this pit in his stomach like when he knew John was done with the conversation and was about to k
He blinks as he loses his train of thought and fuck why were they up so high? There’s this terror, and an odd sense of grief like when they’d found Magnus dead during that 8th cycle.
He was actually having a hard time picturing Magnus, now that he was thinking abo
His attention turns to the gnome across the table from him, and to Merle’s horror his face is gone. It’s unseeable. It’s there but he can’t process what those shapes make up and he feels dizzy and his eyes hurt from trying to focus on the blurry static but the dude said his name so he must know who Merle is.
“Wait... who are you?”
137 years is a long time to be alive.
Davenport had been a captain for 116 of those years, and he’d experienced more victories, tragedies, and adventures than most would dream of in an entire lifetime.
He liked listening to Merle talk. There was something soothing about the way his friend seemed to be able to talk about nothing and make it worth everything. Asking open ended questions was usually the best bet during their yooker games, though, best to get him distracted. Davenport sucked shit at yooker.
“How do you wanna live, Merle? Like, I don’t have a- this mission has been my life for a century. I don’t know what I want to do.”
“You wanna know what I’d like to do? I’d like to move to the beach.”
Cycle Twenty-One: 5% land mass. Found the Light day one. Magnus made him spill a whole glass of 500 year old wine from cycle eleven.
(Davenport finds ‘cycle statistics’ can be triggered over next to nothing. It’s nothing major, usually just a quick memory related to what the person said. He doesn’t mind them, it keeps his mind busy.
Forgetfulness stresses him out. Nothingness stresses him out. ‘A cluttered mind equals a happy Dav,’ that’s what Lucretia says.)
“— You know why? Because with the ocean, the scenery is always changin’.”
Cycle Forty-Five. Maybe Forty-Six: The physical land shifted every night. It was like the plane was alive, honestly and truly.
“—the scenery to always be changin’, man. I don’t wanna be lookin’ at the same thing all the time…”
Cycle Eighty Something: Barren wasteland. Forced into cannibalism. Can’t remember who we ate first. He scratches his right ear to relieve himself of that memory, happy to report it’s already slipped away. The unpleasant ones usually stick aroun
“—I wanna see a million, billion shells…”
Cycle : Hermit crabs?
Davenport swallows hard, and realizes with a start that the past few cycle stats have been getting less clear.
“I wanna watch rain come sweepin’ in…”
: thunder
He stares at his shaking hands. The floor of the is spinning. The floor of the. . The floor is spinning and he can’t remember the name of his own damn sh
Of his what?
“That’s, that’s the life, right there! Change it up, man! Keep it interesting!”
:
Davenport drops his tarot cards and, blinking wildly, he rubs his eyes. “Yeah.....” The walls are moving. Breathing. Breathing like the
The
Fuck, he was just thinking it a second ago, one of the cycles.
One of the what?
Forgetfulness stresses him out.
“Wait...” The walls are moving, and his breathing is too fast. He digs his palms into his eyes but the static won’t leave him be. “Wait...”
Ground yourself, that’s what Magnus tells him to do when he’s panicky.
That’s what who tells him?
A cluttered mind equals a happy Dav. Fuck.
“Where am I?”
He looks up at the dwarf across the table from him, tugging on his earlobe frantically. “You’re.. you’re Merle, right? I know you... what’s going on?”
Why is he up in the sky? Why are the walls fuzzing out like that? Why can’t he remember his family? Fuck, who is his family? Is it the dwarf sitting across from him, who looks like he’s
Gone. The whole room is an abstract painting and it reminds him of th
It won’t stop moving.
A voice in the chaos asks, “Wait... Who are you?”
His mind grasps for something, anything to cling to in this storm of madness.
Who is he who is he who is he ground yourself ground yourself gr
The colours are muting themselves. The shapes go still and blend together. A sharp, prickly blanket of nothing falls over him.
Nothingness stresses him out.
A cluttered mind equals a happy Dav.
Dav.
Davenport.
“I’m Davenport.” It slices through the blanket like
Like what?
Fuck.
“I’m Davenport.” His voice is breaking.
“I’m Davenport.” Each syllable rolls off his tongue. It’s almost soothing.
“I’m Davenport.” Ground yourself.
Davenport.
Davenport.
Davenport.
Davenport.
Davenport.
Davenport.
Davenport.
Davenport.
Davenport.
“I’m Davenport.”
Taako didn’t know where Lup was. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop looking for her.
Barry is exhausted. He’s running on as little sleep as he can manage, and when he does sleep, it’s out here, on the deck of the Starblaster. No one questions it, just like no one questioned why Taako started casting “Alter Self” every hour, on the hour.
Taako peeked inside Barry and Lup’s room one day, about a week after Barry grabbed a few blankets and set up camp outside. There was literal dust on Lup’s side of the bed, the only disturbance being on Barry’s side.
“Barry sleeps like he’s dead,” Lup confided in him once, a long time ago. “Homeboy hops in bed, rolls over and stays that way. It’s freaky.”
A cool breeze brings Taako back to the present, and he realizes he has lost focus and is back to normal. Fuck. His brain feels blurry, and he doesn’t have the energy to recast. The spell has slipped his mind anyway, jeez-o-Pete. Instead, he decides to try to strike up conversation.
“How’s it goin’?”
Barry jumps, and Taako realizes he was dozing off. Shit.
“Oh sorry, I-“ he stops when he sees Taako, and blinks. Taako and Lup were never identical, but they were pretty damn close.
‘Fuck, I look like Lup,’ he thinks. ‘Fuck.’
“Sorry,” Barry turns back to the map, and Taako gives him a minute to compose himself. “So, um, anyway, there’s a… there's a dungeon out beyond the Felicity Wilds?” He kind of tilts his head, beckoning him over. “It's a… subterranean… demonic keep… thing. There’s a bunch of arcane energy coming off of it. I was gonna check it out tonight, if you wanna come with.”
“Yeah, where were- where were- remind me, how far is that in relation to the last glassing?” Hachi-machi, his head hurts. He hasn’t rested in 4 days, and his vision is getting fuzzy at the edges. His ears are ringing, too, which is weird, but brushes it off.
“Um, I’ve triangulated it here.” Barry points to a part of the map with black circles drawn on it, and the dungeon is pretty close to one of them.
“Yeah, it seems like a good a place as any.” Taako yawns. “Do you want to do the usual: I’ll go down and start casting around, see if I can pick up anything, and then you start talking to folks?
“Yep. That’s uh, I mean it hasn’t worked so far, but… it’s gotta work one of these times.” The man next to him…
Whatshisface?
Barry, that’s it, he takes off his glasses and rubs them on his shirt. His eyes are glossed over.
“Taako, what if she’s just gone?”
“Who?”
Barry’s face falls, and he takes a step backwards. “Ta- Taako? Taako, I’m…”
“What if who’s gone?” He’s racking his brain and he’s coming up empty handed.
“What are we...” Barry blinks and looks at the map, which to Taako’s surprise is swirling on the table, the black circles fading until he can’t remember what was there in the first place. “Oh, god, Lup… Taako, I’m- I can’t remember her face, Taako.” He’s hyperventilating, fumbling with his glasses as he tries to put them on with shakey hands. “Taako, where—“
“Whose face?”
“Who?”
Barry is certain he’s going to pass out.
“What if who’s gone?”
He stops. That’s a good question, one his brain doesn’t feel like answering. “What are we...” Oh, fuck. His map, all his hard work, it’s gone. Taako seems mesmerized by it, enchanted. “Oh, god, Lup... Taako, I’m—” Her face is a pointillism piece and the dots keep shrinking. “I can’t remember her face, Taako.”
His heart is pounding out of his chest and the Starblaster behind Taako seems wrong, even without his glasses. He can’t get them on fast enough. “Taako where—”
“Whose face?”
The... what’s it called? Whatever’s behind Taako?
Oh, fuck.
Barry can’t remember the name, only that he should be able to. Whatever it’s called, it’s a patchwork quilt of movement and bright glare, which only gets worse with his glasses on. His brain can’t process it.
“Is this Fisher?” He chokes out.
Taako’s brows furrow and he takes a step closer to Barry, who backs up reflexively and slips on a pile of blankets on the floor. Who puts blankets outside?
He knows a part of his mind is screaming their name, whoever this person is he and Taako have forgotten. But that part is on mute. Barry looks behind him and sees a railing. Fuck they’re up high.
Oh.
By some miracle, he’s able to get it out before it’s gone. Jumping to his feet, he pleads with Taako, praying to whatever deity is listening that he’ll comply.
“Taako, k-kill me! Right now! I’ll, I’ll remember if I’m a lich, I can— please, Taako, just kill me! It’ll— I’ll be okay! I can’t forget, I’m, I’m, begging you, please, Taako! Please!”
Please.
Taako blasts him before he’s done speaking.
He hits the railing and oh shit ouch fuck he’s definitely fucked up a back rib but he can barely feel it because he’s one step closer to whoever he’s meant to remember. He tries to smile, and hopes to shit “Barry from 10 seconds ago” knew what he was doing because “Barry Right Now” sure as hell doesn’t.
Barry has died a lot. It’s part of the job, although while he’s falling he forgets that. He forgets a lot of things while he’s falling, specifically why the fuck that elf just blasted him off of... something he can’t make out. Too much glare.
Moments before impact, he forgets everything.
And then he hits the ground. And there’s nothing.
And then he remembers. All of it.
He sighs in relief, and stares down at his own corpse.
Then a face flashes in his mind, clear as day, and he smiles.
It’s Lup.
Magnus rubs his thumb against the wooden ducks forehead therapeutically as he makes his way across the Starblaster to Lucretia’s quarters. He did a really good job sanding, but the paint job was a little messy. Lup had gotten him a paint set for their first Candlenights last year but it the brushes were a little, well. Little. He had to repaint it twice just to get the hair right.
He was proud of it, though. It looked just like Lucretia, who had barely left her quarters in a month. Maybe two, he had a pretty shitty concept of time if he was being honest.
The door is open a crack, a faint glow lighting up the hallway. He raps the door twice with his knuckles and walks in. “Hey, Lucretia, I know you’ve been feeling a little down lately so—”
He stops. Lucretia turns, and her eyes are glassy. His brow crinkles and starts to open his arms for a hug, but stops when he sees what’s behind her.
“God, Magnus, no… You weren’t supposed to see this, I’m so sorry, Magnus...”
Behind her, floating in his tank, Fisher has his tentacles wrapped around a thick blue book with silver trim. He immediately recognizes it as the book he got her for Candlenights.
“What are you do.... what?”
And then he doesn’t recognize it at all. And his memories are fading. He’s trying desperately hold onto them but they’re slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. His head hurts and whatever that thing in the tank is, it’s starting to fall apart in front of his very eyes. It’s grainy and it hurts to look at so he stops, and looks down at his hands instead.
He’s holding a wooden duck that bears a striking resemblance to the woman standing in front of him. But when he looks at her his brain gets confused. So he looks back down at his hands and tries to stay focus on staying upright.
“Magnus, please— this is just for a little bit, I’m gonna stop this, what we’ve done to this world. I’m gonna find you a place where you can be happy again, it’s just for a little while, and then, you’ll remember, I promise.”
He drops the duck.
“Who are you?”
Lucretia knows Magnus looks at her like a big sister. It’s strange, seven years difference isn’t a lot when you get right down to it, especially not if you’re on the Starblaster. Seven years is a blip. It’s nothing. But she knows how much she means to him. He means a lot to her, too.
Maybe that’s why it hurts this badly to see him like this, dazed and confused with tears running down his cheeks even though he can't for the life of him remember why he’s upset. Maybe it would’ve hurt this badly no matter who it was.
“Magnus, please- this is just for a little bit, I’m gonna stop this, what we’ve done to this world. I’m gonna find you a place where you can be happy again.” The tears are threatening to spill over but she doesn’t let them, not yet, she has to stay strong for him. “It’s just for a little while, and then, you’ll remember, I promise.”
“Who are you?”
Shit. This isn’t fair to him, he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. But she can’t stop, she needs him to hear it.
“I can do this Magnus, please,” she takes his arm and tries to steady him. “Please just lie down, I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.” His knees buckle and he nearly crushes her as she helps him down as best she can. Once they’re down, his head falls into her lap and she pets his hair while the tears on his face start to dry.
“I love you, Magnus, I love all of you.”
His eyes are starting to flutter shut. Lucretia pulls him closer.
“I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.”
She keeps talking to him, trying to console him, trying to console herself, even when she knows he’s gone. She reaches across the floor and grabs the duck he made her. There are a few places where she can tell he had trouble keeping the paint lines clean.
For whatever reason, those unintended squiggles are what open the floodgates.
Lucretia throws the duck across the room and buries her face in her hands, sobs racking her body. Her tears fall onto Magnus’ hair and face, and she sniffles as she wipes his cheeks. She wants to say more but her throat is tight, and he wouldn’t hear her anyways.
Fisher hums, and she looks up. He’s got her duck, and he’s tossing it back and forth between two tentacles. He floats over to Magnus and taps him on the chest, and he’s glowing with excitement. He wants to thank Magnus for the duck.
Nothing happens.
He taps again, faster this time, his jelly cap dimming as he tilts it at Lucretia.
“I’m sorry, buddy.” She wipes her nose and inhales shakily. Fisher makes a sound she’s never heard before, almost a wail, and nestles up to Magnus’ side. He’s shaking a little, and she realizes he’s crying, or doing whatever his form of crying is.
Their family was gone. Just like in Cycle 65.
But this time, it was her fault.
Fuck.
“Back soon.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Davenport.”
“Whose face?”
“Please, Taako. Please.”
“Who are you?”
“It’ll be over soon.”