FSE

Furry search engine

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-Oh you know I never said did I? My name that is; it's "?" like the Greek symbol, y'know "Key" or "Kai" whatever you want. I kind of like having a name that has multiple pronunciations, it's like I get to know something about someone before they've even said anything of importance to me like what do they use? Key? Kai? I had a dude say Kei before, as if his ass was not deciding, you get me? Xenopronouns? I have a Xeno... Name! Yeah, I'm kind of ahead of the curve with that one.

The Elf stars back at The Bat with annoyance as another Elf with a medical coat hovers their hand, covered in symbols and glyphs, up and down Skúmálfar's back. Slowly but surely the pain and irritation is regressing to a numbness and the visual of the damage recedes before everyone's eyes. After their work is finished, the doctor bows at the pair before the very wall behind them starts to peel away brick by brick revealing a corridor back to what looks like a GPs office. The wall comes back together and seals up the hole after the Doctor has walked back through it of course. Skúmálfar gives a worrisome look to this whole affair, while ? doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised at all.

-Proper good in here arn't they? Seems like they have resources for any kind of Monster imaginable. ? continues.

-I've seen places that are accommodating to Monsters, but none that are "The walls open up and the exact professional you need walks out" resourceful. Comments Skúmálfar. In fact that's gonna be the 3rd person that just conveniently came out of this pub when I needed them today.

? lift's up their eyebrow, while they tap their paw, consisting of one huge lone finger, on the table.

-That's this place you know? ? answers. It knows

-Why? Is the pub alive or something? Asks Skúmálfar.

-Yeah of course.

? taps his paw on the table again, tho this time the very wood of the table reverberates, reacting like a cat might do when stroking its back. From the ripples of the table appear two Mojitos somehow emerging from nowhere out of the very oak, oh with two little straws in them of course.

-...O- Oh. Replies Skúmálfar, clearly not ready for the casualness in which that was confirmed.

-It protects you, well it protects all of you. The you's you all are now, back when there was just three of you and before when they were one.

Skúmálfar grunts with frustration, as she grabs her cocktail and drinks as she stares The Bat down the rim of the glass.

-Well thank you for the nice vague lore bullshit. Skúmálfar sneers. But are you going to tell me anything actually useful?

? smirks as he leans back on his chair, contemplating what he was going to say next.

-Well do you remember when your headmates got free, Huntsman?

Skúmálfar tenses up at this stranger, being able to recall a history that with every passing second, Skúmálfar is struggling to recall accurately. But vague recollection of them repressing themselves come to the front of her mind, even reacting at other plural people who embraced this multiplicity with violence.

-I take that deer in the headlights expression as a yes. ? continues. Well I recommend your next step is to link up with them, you're going to need confidants for what's coming next.

-The Elven Empire, they're gonna send more guys?

-Oh shit, now you mention it... ? replies, rubbing his claw through his hair. More the merrier for whenever that happens. But no I'm talking about something else... You didn't kill that thing in the cabin Skúmálfar. Not yet.

Another tensing up, Skúmálfar was beginning to think they could write all of that off as some anomaly outside of time or reality. A little fun trauma, to keep to themselves. These events being spoken out in the open, brings the beads of sweat to The Elf's brow.

-What the hell are you? She asks The Bat.

-In a nice turn of phrase? I'm your Magician on The Fool's journey, here to give you the means for the perils in the road.

-Uh huh, And in a not nice way?

-Babysitter.

Skúmálfar's expression drops, like yeah they probably shouldn't of asked.

-You got lucky that time, but you're not gonna get the jump on it next time. ? continues. But the good news, each time you get it's ass, it gets weaker! Eventually you'll be able to deal with it yourself, but not yet. And uuhh if you don't mind a little critique, you're not exactly bursting at the seems with friends Skúmálfar. Your old head mates are gonna be your best bet.

Skúmálfar slumps back in their chair and for the first time since this entire ordeal she doesn't slip immediately into indignant anger... She starts to chuckle at first, as the tears start to well up in her eyes.

-You ever feel like you're being picked a part bit by bit?

? smiles warmly, as he just nods, all the while The Elf in front of him starts to go into hysterics. She holds her hands in the palm of her hands.

-I dunno what I'm supposed to do now? I feel like shit. Everything about myself is being overwritten by someone I don't know. I feel like such fucking shit man. Where are they? I just wanna find them and say I'm so sorry. Why can't I find Butters? Why? Where are they? Fucking hell, fucks sake. I'm so upset, why am I so upset Bat!?

-Because something inside you is about to die.

Skúmálfar recedes inside themselves, they claps their arms and bring up their knees to their stomach. In-between every sob a strand of shadow starts to seep out of their body, more and more of it escapes from Skúmálfar, through any means it can.

-I just wish I could've gotten better, without needing to suffer, got over myself and say sorry before... Be...

The seeping dissipates and everything goes quiet.

The Elf's tight grip on her own arms begins to loosen, as she swings her head towards the sky. Inhale. Exhale. As her gaze returns to The Bat, she wears a confused expression on her face, before sniffling and touch her eyes with her fingertips.

-Was I just crying? Skúmálfar asks.

-YOU weren't, no. ? replies.

Skúmálfar shrugs, before sipping the rest of her cocktail and getting out of her chair.

-Whoa whoa, hey where you going? The Bat asks.

-You've given me my assignment, link up with my head mates for round two with that wretched thing from the woods. Replies Skúmálfar. I reckon the Lycanthrope will be the best bet, she got out first and maybe she's gotten over it? Seems my best bet anyhow.

? is one of the few beings of this world who completely understands the machinations of what he just witnessed... And even then the personality shift takes him back a little. This is Skúmálfar, unburdened by the Huntsman no longer, someone completely present in this chronology. But still the sheer confidence of the person now standing in front of him is something to be admired. He gives his blessing via a little nod and Skúmálfar heads out and opens the pub door, with some new local neither of them recognised waiting for her on the other side. Skúmálfar nods, impressed, as she runs her hand down the side of the doorway, affectionately.

-One last gift? Thank you, Hound. She says.