entrancelogs | [OPEN] "These shallow waters never met what I needed. I'm letting go; a deeper dive."

[~~MOM HOLY FUCK~~ Well, if you were hoping for a entertaining reaction when jumping out at him like that, just look at that startled jump and scream of terror from Fidds in response, before--]

S--Stanford? What... [We're sorry BillFord, Fidds is so startled by the sudden appearance of his best friend that, at first, he doesn't quite register the other man's words so much as how he looks.

His arm is missing. Why is his arm missing??]

What in the Sam Hill happened out there?!

"SAM HILL NEEDS to mind his own business!"

[Oooh, he actually got a scream out of this one! Not even Pinetree was good for a scare lately. Boy, that really takes Bill back! The amusement is almost enough to bring the demon away from the CRIPPLING AGONY OF HAVING A SEVERED LIMB- oh yeah, should get back to fixing that.]

"OH, THIS AND THAT. Got ULTRAVIOLET DIRECTIONS from a PARTICULARLY NARCISSISTIC FLOWER, TRUDGED through a STREAMARGUEDWITHacoupleaBIRDontheLOGISTICSofEXISTENTIALFULFILLMENTFORTHECARRIONSPECIESTRAMPLED some PLANTGROWTH--
AND- Oh yeah. I got my ARM LOPPED OFF by a bunch of HYPED-UP RAGAMUFFINS THIS WAY TO SUNDAY!!"

[And it HURTS. So how about we FIX IT. PLEASE. Not that Bill's tight grimace of a smile is showing much beyond rabid enthusiasm.]

"Now I'VE got a QUESTION for YOU: What makes you think I'm STANFORD~?"

[Now that he's paying attention to the words, at first his mind immediately thinks to the group of kids that Stanford had been trying to communicate with before getting kidnapped--they had been dangerous, yes, but chopping off Ford's arm? That was even worse than anything he could have imagined them doing.

Fidds starts to reach his hands out toward his friend (clearly the blood loss has made the other man delirious, something needs to be done about his injury, otherwise Stanford is going to bleed out and--) but that question immediately causes him to retract those hands as if he has suddenly been burned.]

I beg your pardon?

[There are so many red flags with asking that kind of question, and now Fiddleford is taking some steps back from him rather than coming closer, tone changing to one of suspicion.]

What is that supposed to mean? If you're not Stanford, then who are you?

[Bill almost regrets saying that last part. Almost. Frightening Fiddleford was counter intuitive to the current objective but how is he supposed to resist when the other man is feeding into it with every fiber of his being? If this guy doesn't want to play a game of cat and mouse he should stop acting so much like *prey*]

“You REALLY don't have,the SLIGHTEST CLUE? I KNOW you've SEEN ME...”

[The demon blinks unevenly, one eye at a time. He has certainly seen you. The vessel stalks forward now, making up for the space Fiddleford has been trying to create between them.]

“Guess I shouldn't be surprised what with the-”

[He taps his temple and then makes the Finger-guns motion with his one working hand.]

“And all."

['Don't hurt anyone'the terms of the deal echo internally. Bill rolls his eyes and then stops his progression forward. 'Aye, aye, Sixer.']

"Anyway Stanford Pines is still in this SUFFER PUPPET somewhere. IQ just needed some TRANSPORT ASSISTANCE; call it..."

[Bill’s grin twitches a hair wider.’]

“‘A little HELP from a friend~’"

[Oh no, dwindling personal space and unsettling blinking does nothing to help Fiddleford feel any less fearful. But it's the finger-gun motion that really causes his eyes to widen momentarily.

Stanford... no, no one other than himself should know about that device he had been working on back home. It hasn't been tested yet (as far as he remembers......) and he's never said anything to anyone about it, not even Stanford, so how does this... this demon with disturbing yellow eyes...

... eyes...]

You... you're him, aren't you? [This revelation almost causes him to miss Bill referring to Stanford as a "suffer puppet" but "help from a friend"...] You're the one that Stanford told me about, the no-good demon that had been deceivin' and usin' him back in Gravity Falls...

"DING DING DING!! GIVE THE MAN A PRIZ-err well no wait, can't do that right now-ANYWAY'LLGETTOTHATLATER!"

[So, you know, look forward to that~]

"But DECEIVE is such a HARSH WORD, FIDDS. Like you HUMANS don't all USE each other for SOMETHING!"

[At least he's honest about being a lying monster! The demon taps one of his six fingers on his chin, staring down the man before him as if seeing someone else.]

"GOTTA SAY, think I preferred the OTHER you... but hey, if it ain't broken don't RECONFIGURE THE SPACE-TIME-CONTINUUM TO PREVENT IT FROM BREAKING IN THE FIRST PLACE, am I right?"

[Little multiverse humor, there! A one armed shrug.]

"STANFORD didn't get ANYTHING he shouldn't have SEEN COMING; but SEEING as he's said SO MUCH about ME. He ever give a NAME to go along with all that?"

[The other... us?

Much like how the rest of this conversation has gone, Fiddleford's got a bad feeling that asking what the hell Bill means by that is not going to provide an answer that he likes, so while it is obvious that he's bothered by the comment, he tries not to react to it.]

"Bill Cipher" is what he told me... [There's a pause, before he adds, a touch defiantly.] I would have expected a more terrifyin' name for a so-called demon, honestly speakin'.

[But despite the attempt at a jab here, there's a noticeable twitch to the way he holds himself here, unable to really stand completely still. As if his legs are anticipating for if and when he'll need to start running away from here at a moment's notice.]

[The jab is met with a burst of delighted laughter. It seems insults have the opposite effect on this entity.]

"OH, it's not my REAL NAME- think of it as a MONIKER of SORTS; WOULDN'T DO to BLOW a MORTALS BRAINS TO MUSH because they couldn't COMPREHEND or REMEMBER my TITLE-- AS FUNNY as that WOULD BE, tends to STAIN THE UPHOLSTERY HEHEHE! Has a nice RING to it, though, DONCHA think?"

[One of Bill's eyes flickers to Fiddleford's twitchy legs. It's hard to ignore the impulse to CHASE and Stanford's vessel's breathes come in more and more ragged at the exertion of holding back-- or perhaps that's just the blood loss. Either one, really.]

"SO YOU GONNA MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL, TEMP, or HIGHTAIL IT OUTTA HERE? EVERYONE'S WAITING! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT?"

[Who the hell are you calling temp... either way, the words gets Fiddleford to glare at him before his gaze returns once again to Ford's injury, the bouncing of his knees here now doing so for a different reason as he frowns.]

Fine, but only because I'd rather not have my best friend bleed to death right in front'a me.

[His hands are shaking, but he's reaching out now to put his hands on Ford's good arm, despite the shiver at the thought of touching anything that Bill Cipher is possessing, even if it's Ford.]

Is he gonna last long enough to walk back with me a few feet to safety, or... [There's a pause, attention flickering to the injury again.] Are you gonna be capable of stayin' still while I work on doin' somethin' about it here?

[The flesh that meets Fiddleford's touch is beyond cold and clammy and despite his bluntly worded request, the demon hesitates just a fraction before relinquishing the arm to the other scientist. He steps in time with the other man, allowing him to lead.]

"EH, HE'S LASTED THIS LONG..."

[Bill snorts to himself. As if a couple feet in another direction is any safer than their current location; ah, to be delusional again!]

"NEVER MIND, STAYIN' STILL. I'M STICKIN AROUND UNTIL THOSE ODDS ARE IMPROVED."

[He was afraid you were gonna say that... but fine, maybe, just maybe, we can accomplish our goal here, and that is to make sure that Stanford doesn't die on us.

Fiddleford is not a medical professional like Mikan and such, but for now, he'll try not to look too green around the gills here, so to speak, once they're in a spot where BillFord can sit down and let Fiddleford do something about the missing arm here. However, Fiddleford is quick to point a stern finger at his possessed friend before he gets started.]

Now be quiet and don't interrupt, I need to be able to concentrate on what I'm doin' here.

[... He says, as if he actually expects Bill to be able to keep his mouth shut the whole time.]

[Bill takes a seat and leans back, but his compliance ends there, outright smirking at the request. He outstretches his regular arm, flexing the tendons and looking it over. Weird, finally sitting down is making him feel kind of woozy already!]

"It's FUNNY that you think you're in a POSITION to BARGAIN!"

[Make him!]

"We both know I hold ALL the CARDS in this little ARRANGEMENT."

[His eyes drift to the rest of surroundings. Hmm Is there any of Mcgucket's supplies he can mess with from where he is sitting perhaps?..]

[There's the blaster that Ford gave Fidds before he got abducted so that the man would have something to protect himself with while on his own here, but one look at Bill has him adjusting it so that it's not within arm reach of the demon.

There's also what could be charitably called "medical supplies" in this context that Fiddleford takes out of his pockets and sets aside, such as cloth that could arguably be used as bandages and the like, but he's not as worried ~~as he probably should be~~ about Bill touching those as his frown simply sets in deeper here at his words.]

Doesn't make it any less aggravatin' to listen to while I'm workin' here.

"Well it's a Good thing that I DON'T CARE."

[Bill chuckles at the preventive measure Fiddleford takes with the gun; so maybe the guy isn't totally out of his depth. He settles for leaning over to paw at bandage rolls, uncaring if he knocks any over in his attempts to grab one.]

"SO WHAT's on the MENU, GLASSES? Or maybe it should be GOGGLES for you. SURE your HANDS are STEADY ENOUGH for all this DELICATE work? This ain't one of YOUR TYPICAL projects."

[And he's made you shake from just the slightest thing already.]

[Glasses? Goggles? Fiddleford shakes his head, trying to focus on what he's doing rather than asking questions for what is probably something ridiculous.]

There are fragments of bone in his arm here from where the fracture occurred, splintered into different pieces in various spots. It's part of what's causing the pain that Stanford is in right now, and if allowed to remain, they may even cause an infection.

[Thus, he's trying to see if there's any pieces close enough to the surface of the skin and stump of arm on display that can be removed without making it worse.

There's a pause, debating whether or not if he should even bother warning Bill that "this might hurt" while he's removing what he can, but after a moment...]

Don't move.

[And that's about the amount of warning Bill is going to get before he starts working here. It's going to feel like something sharp is poking into the mess of skin and fractured bone here as he tries to keep his hands from shaking, trying to keep them under control as he deals with the pieces of bone broken off in here. It's probably a good thing that Stanford isn't the one in control here because yes, this would be a very uncomfortable and painful thing to be awake for, really.]

“REALLY- had no IDEEAAAAHHHH-!!!”

[Bill stomps his foot but miraculously manages to keep from jostling the side fiddleford is working on. He breathes furiously behind clenched teeth.]

“H-Hhhhhhh.”

[Boy, the synapses are firing all the way today! WOW that smarts! W-why does it hurt this much- it doesn't usually hurt this much?!?!

’They're right. I can TAKE that PAIN for you. ‘

Of course- that wording- he agreed to take Stanford's pain, not the pain HE would feel in these circumstances. Bill inwardly fights a groan. Looks like he’s going all the way on this one. How many deals has Wonderland botched now?? Another twinge of bone fragment hitting tender flesh has the demon shooting a particularly venomous look at Fiddleford.

No.
Calm down. Jobs a job. He's already won. He's suffered through eternities of worse. Just got to get through it. And lest his actions actually affect the other man..]

"StOp for even a SECOND and I will SHOVE THOSE down your THROAT."

[At his side, Bill’s good arm starts fumble around. Reaching for something. Anything. Ford carried a flask right? Shouldn’t alcohol help??]

[For his part, Fiddleford does look appropriately intimidated for a moment by the look that Bill gives him here, but otherwise he keeps working nonetheless.]

Wasn't plannin' on it.

[Oh look, is that a small piece of bone fragment that he's managed to extract? Yeah, he's going to just drop that somewhere aside before he starts picking out more of the others that can be safely removed here.

He raises an eyebrow at the other arm moving around, but at least Bill isn't causing a mis-step on our end here, or potentially shoving things down our throat, so that's a plus as far as we're concerned.]

Edited 2016-12-07 03:40 (UTC)

[There's a dry laugh as Bill attempts to keep his pitch in check and his voice from cracking- it sounds more like a cough.]

"And That's YOU for YOU, ain't it, FIDDLES?"

[His skin is feeling so- so-- cold? Wet? Clammy? Clammy. It's making him shiver as he finally secures the flask in his grasp, maneuvering it his lap.]

"The kind of man WILLING to turn a BLIND EYE for the GREATER GOOD!"

[His fingers begin attempting to twist the cap- ugh, why can't he just gnaw the stupid thing open- with marginal success.]

[Of all the things that Bill could have said, that's the one that causes Fiddleford to momentarily stop what he's doing, teeth gritting a little as he needs a moment to focus again, keep his hands from shaking.

This time Fiddleford keeps his mouth shut rather than taking the bait and responding to it, but Bill can guess pretty easily that he's hit a nerve somewhere here, even as Fiddleford manages to remove another bone fragment or two to cast off to the side.]

"HEH-HNN"

[Bill would laugh more at the sudden change- ha, and Fiddleford thought he could shut him up- but his mouth is currently preoccupied with the flask. At last he feels some give in the screw top and its contents splash generously into his- thankfully not eye- mouth, dribbling down his chin, sending a few rivulets down his neck.

He drinks greedily with great haste, forgetting to breathe until he resurfaces from his fervor with a sputtering gasp. Fiddleford gets his wish it seems, Bill has little to say as his chest heaves, catching his breathe and waiting for the alcohol to work its sweet magic.]

[Drinking should never be encouraged, but if it gets Bill to shut up, then an exception can be made.

Now that he's quieter, Fiddleford can concentrate better on what he's doing here, and unless Bill has another hilarious quip to throw at us before we're finished, soon Fiddleford will speak up again.]

Right, I reckon I've removed what bone fragments I could from here. He's still going to be in pain and he will need further medical attention, but he should be able to last a lot longer than he would have before.

[Like... probably once the event ends it would be recommended for him to immediately seek out help from someone who can stitch this up better than we can.]

“GOOD RIDDANCE!!”

[Bill sits straight up with a jolt, moving to clap his hands together before—realizing he lacked the extra limb to do so.]

“…WELL then, TIME for ME to HIGHTAIL it OUTTA HERE. I’d say its been NICE WORKING WITH YA But it hasn’t. I’m FEELING really SWELL about ALL THIS!-- LATER!!”

[His eyes roll towards the back of his head at an alarmingly fast rate as he shuts them, collapsing to lay back down . . .]

“AND BY SWELL I MEAN – there is some DEFINITE SWELLING in these ABYSMAL TISSUES you HUMANS are SO PROUD OF. YEESH you guys are GROSS! Thought you’d wanna know!”

[You know, for clarity! And with that, Bill collapses once more. When next the vessel opens his eyes, it won't be the demon behind them.]

[...there are a few more seconds of glorious numbness until Ford rises out of it and surfaces into consciousness with a hiss of pain and a low groan. He convulses once and then stills, lying on his back in the sand.

Where... how...

He closes his eyes again.]

...oh God.... Stanley... [They open once more, blinking at the human shape nearby. It isn't his brother, but it's a welcome sight anyway.]

...Fiddleford? Oh thank God...

Oh, Stanford!

[It's not the demon triangle anymore, god bless.]

Thank heavens... um. [He props Stanford up a little so that his stump of an arm isn't directly in the sand because the last thing we need is sand somehow getting into the man's wounds (thanks for that, Bill) allowing him to lean on Fidds some here if necessary.]

Are you... well, I'm not gonna bother askin' if you're feelin' alright, but...

[God he's trying, but he has no idea what to say here.]

[He reaches his left hand at Fiddleford, clutching at him. He's weak, and it's a miracle he hasn't gone into shock yet (but he's not far off).]

Fidds... I'm sorry... I-- [Ford leans on Fiddleford, resting his head on him as he can barely hold it up. He is as terrified as he sounds.] ...I-I'm sorry.... I left him, I left Stanley, I-- I left you... I'm so sorry.

[Perhaps most surprisingly, this big strong old owl lets out a sob. The emotional agony is comparable to the physical. He wishes he was unconscious again. Death would be better than dying slowly like this. The weakness, the way his entire body feels so heavy, the desperation and guilt... he might as well be 10 years old again.]

I let him into my head, I let him... back in... I didn't want to, I didn't, oh God, I'm sorry... [He left Stan. Frisk held him down while Rick pulverised his arm. He left Stan. He let Bill into his mind. He left Fiddleford alone. He left his brother.

Softly, Ford cries against his friend's shoulder.]

[OPEN] "These shallow waters never met what I needed. I'm letting go; a deeper dive."

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