Work Text:
Infinite knowledge was, in theory, a blessing. The prospect of knowing everyone and everything was tantalizing to most. Yet to D3rlord... it was excruciating. Not only did it induce paranoia, but it weighed heavily on his body. His brain often felt as if it were on the verge of splitting in half— perhaps that would liberate D3rlord, never having to think again. A particularly intense aspect of such a curse is the burden of knowing every single language. D3rlord had originally been monolingual: English with a couple of Spanish phrases here and there from high-school. Yet now, he knew everything from German, to Latin, to French. His thoughts switched rapidly from language to language, finding the best possible word from each. It would've been incoherent to anybody else, yet it was a slurred mess of which he understood. It opened new opportunities for self expression and speech, assuming the person he was conversing with knew multiple languages. Unfortunately, the man standing infront of him only knew English, being less literate in comparison.
"Verdammt noch mal!" D3rlord's voice rises in frustration, clutching his cranium. The languages switch jarringly, yet he settles on a mess of German and English.
Avery blinks in confusion at his incoherent outburst. "You okay?"
Avery, being generous, had offered him stay in his home. He had found the knight, writhing in pain as he clutched his neck. It looked as if he were making an attempt to tear it off in his desperation. He had collapsed in his attempt to journey and warn Avery in writing. The thoughts were too incessant, flickering memories of the present, past, and future all pestering him. Perhaps it worked out, as he could provide a more detailed explanation directly. If only he could communicate anything, with his head on the verge of exploding. Avery wanted answers from him, yet knew that he needed time to really heal first. If that were even possible.
D3rlord curls up into himself, crouching on the floorboards. "No, no, halt!"
Avery approaches him with caution. "Do you have a... headache, or something?" He's genuine, trying to help him.
D3rlord draws out his words with difficulty. "Everything... I know it all." He reels in pain, his brain pounding.
He knows what Avery will say next— he knows everything about him. "What do you mean?"
"Der könig." Two words he can manage, and Avery doesn't understand either.
The king.
It haunts him, the gold draped over his form. His imposing figure. His robes, yellow. Yellow... he couldn't bare to look at it.
"I don't speak German." Avery is confused. "Is English not your first language, or something?"
Avery hefts him up, his hands malleable and soft, yet just firm enough to keep their form. He's a slime, body green. His "hair" is more slime, styled, it seems. D3rlord doesn't resist, only slumped into his side willingly. He's aware Avery is talking him into his bedroom to rest. Avery allows D3rlord to angle himself for support against him, his breath heavy and strained. His brain continues to go over everything that there is and ever will be.
"Vielen dank." He thanks him, despite Avery being unbeknownst to his words. It rolls off his tongue easily— he's already familiar with every single language there is.
D3rlord can hardly focus on the hallways he stumbles through with Avery. He already knows the layout of the house, so there's no need to memorize it.
"I don't speak German, but I wish I could." Avery is apologetic, it seems.
D3rlord continues on, incoherent to Avery. He catches one crucial thing: "...hurts." English, the one thing connecting them and it's only a single word.
The pair now reach the bedroom; Avery pushes the door open with his hip.
"Lay down," he orders, not too firm but rather worried. To further his point just in case, he gestures to the bed expectantly.
D3rlord abides, stumbling onto the mattress. The environment surrounding him is a blur. D3rlord can only focus on the impending thoughts paining him. He catches Avery, rifling through a drawer, and knows what's to come. He'll offer him a potion, and D3rlord will drink. It will suffice him for a short period of time, and they'll talk then. There's multiple paths he can see, twisting and turning. He needs to choose his words carefully, as to steady them along the right direction.
Avery, brandishing a healing potion, offers it to the knight with a sheepish smile. He drinks, expression mostly obscured by his helmet. He's glad— D3rlords face twists in disgust at the flavor and sensation. It's acidic in his throat, the harsh pink liquid overriding his systems. The potion quickly eases the physical distress, yet the thoughts remain. He settles into the short burst of calm, meeting Avery's gaze level-headedly, for once. It's worth it, despite the gross aftertaste.
"Much thanks." An English thanks this time, now Avery can respond.
"No problem dude." Avery grins, a little stupidly. It's lopsided, genuine, and characteristic.
D3rlord can comprehend his environment better now; he surveys it. It's a moderately small bedroom. The bed lays flush against the left wall, while the dresser is adjacent, facing it. Between the two pieces of furniture, is a full length mirror. It's minimalistic, surely. Or perhaps lazy in terms of decor. The layout aligns with D3rlord's pre-established knowledge.
"So...?" Avery wants answers, and he wants them now.
D3rlord is unsure of where to start, or where to place his hands. "I have knowledge of all there ever will be, is, and was. It takes a toll on my being; I can't escape it." Vague in it's description, and D3rlord knows Avery's reply.
"What?"
D3rlord furrows his brow in frustration, thoughts clashing with one another. Italian, then Swedish.
"I was cursed with infinite knowledge." His confusing statement is furthered.
"Uhm," Avery tilts his head, "okay."
Now, the correct path. D3rlord said the right thing, he knows the series of events soon to be. He's relieved.
Avery will be safe.
Another vague, yet important piece of information: "Don't turn left at the crossroads."
Avery doesn't quite understand. "What crossroads?"
"You'll see in due time."
The knight is cryptic, and, without further response nor inquiry, settles into rest. His exhaustion wears him thin, his armor offering little protection against the mental turmoil brewing. He feels as if it's impending, his death. D3rlord has little left, yet he uses that essence to offer something to Avery. Perhaps it's in his nature, to protect.
His last thought is of Avery before he falls asleep. He wishes him well, unwanting him to fall victim to the same fate.