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> Dave: Go on a first date.
Sort of. You’ve “sort of” already had sex with this woman, and by “sort of already had sex” you mean that you’ve been having sex with her fairly wildly and with a fair amount of frequency since you met.
(It was at some vaguely-famous-person’s party several weeks ago—you’re still only vaguely famous, though you have plans—and it was lust at first sight.)
You think she might know things, the way you sometimes Know Things.
How are you liking the fois gras?
yeah its pretty good
You figured it was high time you got gentlemanly about this and went on a real date, since you feel good about her in general. You—Dave Strider, upcoming maker of Moive Maigic—and her—Rose Lalonde, excessively wordy, goth booksmith—seem like a fucking winning pair. You even wore your best tie.
You’re at an upscale, kind of French-y place—although, come to think of it, you don’t think you remember choosing this place, exactly—
Dave, I must know, how is your script coming along?
Might there be more tragic falling down stairs that you should warn me about?
I did so enjoy that scene in the first.
A waiter stops by to refill your wine. You’re momentarily distracted.
wow
haha wow our waiters an asshole
What makes you say that?
look at his fuckin pointy shades
amateur
hes on the right track though
go get em kid
Says the grown man wearing sunglasses indoors.
Rose’s smirk is both infuriating and also turns you on quite a bit.
my eyes are too intense for most of the world to bear ok
im just sparing them an immediate death from exquisite beauty
Rose reaches up to dust a stray tentacle from her shoulder, and—
> Reset?
Rose reaches up to scratch her shoulder—even that motion seems creepily and alluringly delicate, goddamn her. You know too well already that any aura of breakability she puts on is baldly false.
She’s wearing a necklace, a thin silver chain with a small, glittering pendant at her throat. It’s shaped like—a skull. No. An octopus?
whats that on your necklace
My necklace?
Rose glances down, and for a second her eyes go very wide. Panicked, you think, oh shit, she thinks I was staring at her tits —which you were doing, earlier, and that’s not the point—but she only closes her elegant fingers around the pendant and looks back up at you, expression unreadable.
It was a gift. A gift presented largely in jest, I think, but it’s dear nonetheless.
wearing it out of spite then
im down with that
shit looks expensive, i wouldnt turn it down either
...
You could say that.
Rose takes a sip of her wine. You have an itch on the back of your head, but scratching it doesn’t help. You want to see the pendant again.
Abruptly, you realize that the wallpaper has changed since you entered the restaurant. Rose is looking at you again, smiling, and damn she looks so sad, you thought that was just an act she put on—
ok this is gonna sound weird but
does something look different about this restaurant to you?
Hmm? I don’t know what you mean.
the wallpaper
i feel like the wallpapers different
and wait a second
werent we drinking white wine
Rose holds her glass up to the light, inspecting it. A shadow passes overhead.
I don’t think so, I really much prefer red. Dave, why don’t you tell me about what you’re working on a bit? I’d love to hear about it.
She looks hopeful. The itch in your head gets more intense. The light settles.
ok well
youre like one of the few people ive ever met who seems to understand the true depth of the comedy
also you fully appreciate the shitty pictures which i like
good job on that
just between us
because i like the cut of your jib
im thinking of introducing a new character
Oh my.
A shadow passes, again. You shake your head, but the itch persists.
ok im sorry
but something weird is going on here
What do you mean?
can you really not tell?
there have been weird shadows like all up in this restaurant
and just
i mean fuck how did i just notice this
were the only ones here
What?
Rose whips her head around, and the itch gets stronger. You realize, this time, that Rose looks panicked. Something deep inside your gut twists—you want to grab her and run, and keep running, with her needles aimed behind you and your sword aimed in front—
ok seriously what the fuck is going on
Dave, please calm down. You have to be imagining things.
We can still have a nice dinner.
Rose has never negotiated with you like this. You know Rose Lalonde, you know her—
Something—inside you?—snaps, and you know—
> You know you’d die for this woman.
The illusion breaks.
jesus fucking christ
Dave—
> Dave: Resist Batterwitch forces
> Dave: Flip the fuck out
You launch yourself across the table to her, your heart swelling into your throat. The dishes clatter and fall around you, but there is no sound of them hitting the ground.
God, how is she still standing with all the blood? How is she talking to you?
rose come on
its her isnt it
some kind of trick right
its the batterwitch
jesus that sounds stupid
what am i even saying come on lets go
You’re holding on to her too tight, your hands pressing against blood and torn skin. You want to throw up. You want to run. You want to curl up into a ball with Rose tucked in your arms and stay that way. She’s still bleeding.
She’s talking to you, but you barely hear it. Around you, surrounding you, are nightmares of black and eyeballs and tentancles larger than your high-rise.
holy shit the fucking
the fucking horrorterrors like in
like in your goddamn books rose
Dave, please, they won’t hurt you—
are you fucking joking
look at them
we have to go
we have to find her at least
You reach for your sword, but it isn’t there. Your ears are ringing. Rose’s face is wan, her eyes colorless. She’s crying. Your head lurches.
Dave, please. I’m so sorry, I should’ve gone about this better.
wheres my sword
how the hell are you even still standing
Dave, you remember where your sword is.
what
Everything’s fuzzy. The restaurant has faded completely. Rose looks crushed.
You remember where it is.
You look down.
It’s there.
> You know you’d die for this woman.
> You did.
> Reset?
> No.
> Dave: Contemplate
You try to silence your mind. Time—or, what, memories of Time?—is still zipping through it. Rose is talking.
Dave, I’m so, so sorry. It was only
I
...
This memory, these memories, they’re very dear to me.
I didn’t want to upset you, I just...
I didn’t know what would happen once you remembered, and I...
I wanted to stay here. For a time.
It takes you a while to calm down. There’s a lot to think about, and frankly you just—you just want to push it all down for later. You can’t look at the blood covering Rose’s body without wanting to kill something—ha!—and you can’t look down at the gore in your own body without forgetting that it doesn’t actually hurt.
This was one of my fondest memories.
Our first date.
She’s looking at you warily. Rose Lalonde has never done anything warily, not to your knowledge. She never even side-eyed one of your malfunctioning SORDs.
rose
Her eyes are hopeful. You can’t believe you’d ever in your life thought they were cold.
Dave?
that wasn’t the dress you were wearing on our first date
She’s startled; she looks down at herself, as if she needs to be reminded of the atrocity that is the wrong dress.
and you werent wearing that necklace
and this isnt the restaurant we went to
I
...
Oh.
you didnt even remember our first date you fucknuts
For some reason, this upsets you far more than anything else you’ve experienced tonight—or whenever you are. Rose exhales shakily and puffs her hair with one hand.
I could swear we went to this restaurant. I remember it being very... unexpected.
I remember thinking you were a bastard and that I wanted to have a lot more sex with you.
well fuck of course you did
you werent nearly that cheerful when we actually first went out you know
i thought you were a stone cold bitch and i wanted to bone you into next week anyway
You probably could have.
thats just the natural progression of superior pieces of pure sex meat like us
Sex meat?
but no
its all wrong
rose how in the fuck can you not remember our first date
do you even remember our anniversary
I wasn’t aware we had one.
yeah well we do
god
was our whole life a lie
its november—
Dave.
what
Dave, please. Of course I remember our anniversary.
She smiling at you. It’s more infuriating than that time a truckload of your jpeggy skateboards fell into a ravine en route and floated slowly up into space. Though that did give you ideas.
our first date was at the restaurant with the neon fish in those god damn wall length tanks
cant believe you dont remember that
Oh, yes.
Because it was expensive and you wanted to impress me, as I recall. You clearly weren’t compensating for anything.
fuck you
In my defense, we did go to many extravagant places in those days.
yeah thats no excuse
jesus
you were wearing that purple dress with the gold trim
obviously
shit rose you got almost none of this right
The scene changes. You see tentacles waft slowly in the background right before it solidifies into neon fishtanks. Rose’s wounds seep and meld into a cinched, deep purple gown. Her eyes are misty.
She’s dead. You’re dead. You’re ghosts. That’s it.
This is it.
I suppose I did let my nostalgia run away from me a bit. I apologize.
...
You remembered my dress.
you remembered my tie
You’ve changed, too, back into youthful skin and the slightly (but only slightly) douchebag first-date suit that Rose had actually gotten right. You’d forgotten about this tie. She remembered everything about you.
You think, maybe she’d wanted this memory to be perfect. Maybe this scared her too.
You’re an ass.
> Dave: deflate.
so were dead huh
we lost
It feels pointless, now—the years of throwing trucks of money at shitty movies with messages, of test-reading books, of running and fighting and working and kissing and waking up with Rose’s thigh draped over yours—
Rose takes your hand; you think she’s very warm for a dead person. She’s still wearing the necklace—you remember now that you bought it for her when she was nearing forty, a Squiddle pendant encrusted with diamonds. Flashy enough to hide the sentiment you thought she hated.
Shows what you know.
The scene flickers, and horrors undulate behind the woman you love.
You always knew we were going to lose.
We were always meant to lose. I could see that, Dave, and so could you.
Of course she could See it. Somehow you always thought you’d be able to turn back time to escape it.
We did our best.
You think of the hours spent carefully planning for children you would never see. You think of jumping into a car with Rose’s frightening hands on the wheel, outrunning the inevitable. You think of overthrowing long-corrupt leaders, and how it made you feel righteous and victorious and also nauseous. You think of facing down a stone-cold witch and knowing you would lose.
You think of being scared for Rose, more than yourself, every minute of every day.
You wonder if she was scared for you.
> Dave: Consider worries
i guess its up to our progeny now
or whatever they are
Yes.
do you think theyll be ok
i mean
i just left him a bunch of shit now that i think about it
As far as I can tell, they’re as okay as is possible given the precautions we took for them.
Up until the point where they won’t be, that is.
But that is how it’s meant to happen.
jesus
what a way to pass on the torch
Well, frankly, we couldn’t have been expected to keep up our danger-fraught, sex-ridden escapades indefinitely.
rose are you kidding
i dont care how old we got i would have fuckin jumped at the chance to do anything with you described as ‘sex-ridden’
jumped up like a baseball player straining to catch the ball in his sweaty gloved hand
my spikes or whatever all kicking up dirt
bam
touchdown
goal for the home team
Oh, please don’t.
She’s smiling widely at you now, and you’re not sure that’s an expression you’ve seen her wear in at least ten years—memory-vision notwithstanding.
im still kind of shocked that we apparently have babies or whatever
and not the natural way
i mean given how many times we could have done it the natural way
Ah, yes. Wink, wink.
nudge nudge
ha
if theyre not ok
well i mean hopefully they are ok right now
but
would we get to meet them
Perhaps, eventually.
...
...
ok you know something
is that really all youre gonna say
For now.
Her smirk is much more familiar to you—so is her withholding information. Despite yourself, you’re comforted.
so how long do we putter around here anyway
do we need to move on or something
god that sounds dumb
No.
Well.
I don’t know. I can’t tell what’s going to happen.
You can see the moment that revelation hits her.
I’d imagine we can stay here as long as we’d like.
A second later, the scene changes again, colors swirling translucent, revealing that vast depth of rippling darkness—then it settles.
> Dave: Explore
> You liked this place.
hey
its our apartment
the little pretentious garden on the roof at least
haha
There are no roses here, which you always found kind of lacking.
I know you always thought it was ostentatious, but it relaxed me, given what we were doing.
You know she missed the space and nature surrounding her house when she left. You walk to the edge of the roof. Fearless, you step over. Your foot hits dusty earth. In front of you stands a rickety old motel; behind you, Rose laughs loudly.
Really, Dave?
what? i have good memories of this shithole
on the run from the feds
living like outlaws
planning for the greater good
truly we were heroic
also we had a lot of great sex here
Charming.
im going to pretend youre being sincere
You both continue to walk. Rose opens the door of the building and steps into the grand white space of a much more elegant hotel room. You remember it well; you both used to come here in your earlier days when the paparazzi got to be too much. One of your many suit jackets is draped over the couch. Rose’s many books and forlorn knitting projects are scattered around.
Rose has gone still. She runs her hand over the jacket, and a book beside it.
I ended up here a lot when I first realized what had happened to us.
what
you were alone
Yes. In a sense.
It was a long time before I found you, I think.
She’s crying again. You’ve never, never known her to cry. She wipes at her eyes, looking furious with herself. A stray wisp of tentacle glides around her ankle. Behind her, a luminous eye blinks.
god
im sorry
rose
The room melts away. Terrors surround you, but you’re ghosts now, and you have nothing to fear from monsters.
i would have found you
if i knew what was going on
i mean i dont even remember floating around in memories or whatever i was doing
but i would have found you
you know i would have
You remember your last few minutes of life, struggling together, unafraid, wanting to hold her hand. You remember how she wanted to go it alone, back in the days when you first discussed it; you remember how slowly she changed. Blood seeps through both of your clothes again, but you will it away.
Rose is still wearing the pendant.
I know. But that’s quite all right.
I was perfectly capable of finding you, as it turns out.
i always thought you were capable of anything
wow thats cheesy
but man i dont know
its the truth
Rose’s mouth twitches into a smile. You grab her hand, and you’re back in the apartment—the bedroom. A large, floor-to-ceiling window looks out over the city and the dark, all-seeing eyes above.
i love you
you know
Rose leans in. You keep your eyes open until the first touch of her lips on yours, real and warm as they ever were when your hearts pumped blood through your veins. You wonder if you can get lipstick stains as a ghost.
You’re content. You’re not sure you can remember ever feeling this way when you were alive.
Rose’s fingers twine at your neck. Time stretches out before you.
> Dave: Be with Rose.
