Skylar sighed, gazing upon the disk mournfully. The sad thing is, this is still a million times better than my old life, even with my head full of evil trickster gods while an entire civilization hunts me for crimes I didn't commit. It's almost depressing enough to make me kill myself a second time. He poised his thumb over the raised triangular section, then paused as another flood of comments inundated his brain.
Hmm. Seems a little well-organized to be a gang's stash, but I guess it isn't the smartest thing in the world to fool around with my stolen goods at the scene of the crime. Carefully, he replaced all the boxes he'd disturbed as best he could, then slipped out of the door and replaced it to the best of his ability; maybe they won't notice the hole through the lock for a while. He glanced around, annoyed; not a lot of safe places to experiment; I can't exactly hang around down here, since the Professor might still be running around the area. I'll need to find another safe-ish place where I won't be disturbed before I can do any more shenanigans.
Time travel, huh? Skylar looked at the disk contemplatively for a moment, then shoved it back in his pocket; let's not jump to conclusions, but if it's something like that, it's really dangerous to experiment with. If I really am wearing somebody else's fleshly existence, I wouldn't want to accidentally kill their grandfather in the past or something.
Skylar frowned at this idea as he picked his way along the sewers back towards the entrance he'd come in through. I'm not even sure this is really possible. Even if this is actual, literal time travel -- and that's a big if -- how would that work? If I change the past -- or someone else changes my past -- what happens to my present? Skek, what happens to causality? I need to sit down.
That's probably off the table while I'm dressed like a cultist and maybe have the Professor after me for some reason. Also, I have a worrying feeling about a couple of things, like the fact that Aymon, Reine, and Levan were in that vision. If it's time travel, was that my future? Or my past, and maybe my memories -- or all our memories -- have been altered? Skylar frowned even more deeply as he nimbly swarmed up the ladder and emerged back in the hollow mountainscape of Gavispar. Or maybe it sent me to a parallel universe or something, even? Fratz, maybe it's like some kind of hallucinatory game, but it does real injuries? I'll have to see if I can steal things and bring them back.
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Moving easily through the shadows, he returned to the underpass he'd been lurking in before; after a furtive glance, he fished the disk out again and pressed his thumb carefully against the triangular projection, but this time nothing happened; he frowned again. Maybe I have to bleed on it? He tried pressing harder, and even pricking his finger on one of his new thieves' tools to bleed on the protrusion, but nothing stubbornly continued to happen. Skek. Maybe it has to recharge?
Not sure I want to do that. What if it sends them somewhere instead of me, and sends the disk with them?
I don't think Timurus can actually hear my thoughts -- just project his/her own into my mind, probably using a fancier version of Weir to force me to experience the sensory input of subvocalization. He tapped one finger against his chin, pondering the implications of this. That said, Timurus did say they could hear prayers, so that might be a last resort -- but I think I want to hold off on that until after I've been interrogated, just in case I get put on the spot about ever having prayed to any dark gods. He sighed. Which means I think I know what I'm going to have to do next.
Reluctantly, and greatly against his own judgment, Skylar made his way back to the scene of his escape and surveyed his surroundings critically; he was amused to discover that the ambient lighting accidentally cast the specific window of his cell in pitch-black shadow. Probably why nobody yelled at me during my absconding.
Hardly daring to believe he was taking such a foolhardy course of action, he made his way carefully back up the wall towards his cell window, removed the bars once again, and contorted his way back through the tiny square window; with a sigh, he replaced the bars and sucked in a deep breath in preparation for the disassembly of his sewage-stained effigy.
"About time," Amara commented from behind him, making him jump; he whirled around, scowling. "I was starting to get itchy." The young woman was almost identical to how he'd seen her in their last few meetings, but something was subtly different; it took him a moment to realize that her boots were slightly cleaner. I wonder if this is because this is earlier in her timeline, or if she just cleaned them. Sorbnek, this is confusing.
"Okay, look," Skylar started, crossing his arms, "we're alone here, so maybe I can actually get some answers from you for a change. Who are you, really? Why are you dressed like me? And how the drotz do you know so much vark about me?"
The young woman rolled her eyes. "In order: Amara, in case anybody came to check on you, and it's complicated." Skylar noticed with interest that she did not show any irritation that he didn't seem to remember her name; another point in favor of this being an earlier meeting from her perspective. Holy skek, it really could be time travel. But I can't let her know that I might have figured that out.
"Amara, huh," he responded cautiously, leaning up against the wall of the cell. "Assuming I'm willing to take 'it's complicated' for an answer, what's your deal? Are you my friend? My enemy? Are we dating?"
Instantly, her cheeks flushed furiously as soon as the last word left his mouth; before he could blink, she abruptly ceased to be where she'd been standing and was instead directly in front of him with her fist buried in his solar plexus. The coat blunted the impact, but not much; he doubled over, gasping and coughing. "You son of a sakpa," she hissed, kicking him for good measure.
"Ow," Skylar mumbled, raising his hands in a placatory gesture. "I was... joking... okay?" He wheezed for breath, cautiously climbing back up from his knees and watching her warily. "Got it. So either we're not dating, or we are and I forgot our anniversary." She glared and started to move towards him again, but held back with an expression of great frustration.
"Listen, zubnak," Amara retorted, waving her fist at him threateningly, "I know you think this is funny, but you need to start taking this seriously. You're going to get yourself killed if you don't stop treating everything like some kind of joke."
"I am?" Skylar raised an eyebrow. Note to self, be even more of a tremp in the future. "Is that a threat, or a prediction? And why do you care if I die or not? A lot of people keep saying they need me alive, but none of them are saying what they want me alive for, and there are fates worse than death." I should know, I've died once already. "If you want me to treat you as anything other than an enemy, maybe stop with the aggression and domestic violence and start treating me like someone who might want to help you in the future."
"Aaargh, you always do this." She tousled her own hair in frustration, turning away and putting her hands on her hips before glancing back over her shoulder at him. "Look, I know you're smart enough to know that I can't tell you everything -- and I know that by this point you've learned more than you're letting on, even though you know that I know you're bluffing. So can we please stop wasting time?"
Skylar sighed. "Okay, okay, fine. Cards on the table -- I have enough evidence by this point to suspect, but not prove, that you have a temporal existence discontinguous with my own. Are you happy now? Are we making progress according to your four-dimensional meta-schedule?"
Amara patted him gently on the cheek in an incredibly condescending manner. "Attaboy. So now that we're done dancing around it, let me streamline it for you; you need to stay in the cell until you're brought to trial, weasel your way out of a conviction, and team up with the alvs and the Loathborn. You can fight me, but you'll lose, because I know a lot more than you about what's going on and also what's going to happen in your subjective future; or, you can save yourself some time and do this the easy way." She leaned in almost close enough for a kiss, and purred, "So what's it going to be?"
SERIOUSLY???
