You see a guy. You know this guy— he’s always looking at you, a bit too intently, running your errands, cleaning up after the shows (remember? Your traveling road show? There’s a bit of oddity to the memory here, when you try and remember how long you’ve been doing this, a fuzziness to it that burns behind your eyes when you try and concentrate on it, so you don’t). This guy, he’s hanging on your every word— well. Yeah. You know this guy. Sazed. Lately, as you’ve been performing, he’s been stepping out into the stage, giving a few sparks, a little catchphrase to the audience, and he thinks maybe you haven’t noticed.
You have.
A few days ago, you’d had this . . . weird conversation.
“Look. Listen. I’ve… I’ve really enjoyed working with you, and I think--I think--what would be great is if we could co-host this thing. Just like shared credit. Put- your name’s up on the--the stagecoach and it looks awesome; but i--what do you think about “Sizzle It Up With Taako and Sazed”? Just like, shared credit! Fifty-fifty split! And, you know, we share the workload and, uh, share the--share the glory, you know? And we—“
You aren’t pleased. Something burns in your gut.
“We just--What do you think?”
Eventually you speak up.
“Well, that is so groovy, I love that. It trips off the tongue, you know, but, um. I got all these t-shirts that already say “Sizzle It Up With Taako” and—“
“I can get new t-shirts! I can--y--I can--I printed those t-shirts for you! So I can print out new t-shirts.”
“That’s bad business, Sazed! I-I would love to help you out, but it’s just bad business! “Sizzle It Up With Taako” is the brand! I mean-- We’d have to throw all these in the- in the junkpile! And you can’t write on them! There’s not enough puffy paint in the world for all these t-shirts to add “Sazed” on there. Sorry! It’s mainly a merch thing. A licence, a merch, then the brand--you know--got the logo painted on the side of the, uhhhh, wagon. Already. So, I don’t know. I’ve got my brand established. I just don’t think it-it jives!”
“Okay. Alright. I get it. I get it. Okay.”
“Do you get it? Because I don’t want to keep having this conversation.”
“No, it’s locked in. Definitely. I-I got it, Taako…”
“Excellent!”
As for the next part. You remember this recipe like the back of your hand, like over the next… you know. Until today! Probably every day you think about this recipe, and think about the measurements, and think about what you could have possibly screwed up so very, very badly. So you’re doing this flashy production. A mix of magic and traditional cooking that seems more unnecessary than it is, but they seem to love it!
You finish the meal and the audience has been rapt this whole time, and you go to offer samples. The audience starts to walk towards your stagecoach and time freezes. And you remember what happens next. Um. Everybody dies, who eats that chicken. You’re lucky that you didn’t eat the chicken to taste it. Which is weird, because normally you would sample the food while you’re cooking it. Which you think could be leveraged as evidence against you for whatever repercussions you face for this horrible event that happens. And that’s the last time that “Sizzle It Up With Taako” ever takes place.
But it hasn’t happened yet in this scene! Time has been frozen. And this is the weird part of the memory - a girl, holding a golden cup, takes you by the hand. You suddenly realize the whole time you’ve been watching this as a sort of spectator in your own life.
“Come with me.”
She walks you behind the stagecoach to another smaller wagon that you towed alongside the stagecoach, used for storage. It’s also where Sazed hung out most of the time. And y sort of pass through the wall of that smaller wagon. Sitting inside on a small crate and looking extremely nervous, like, gripping his hair and staring intently down at the floor is Sazed. And they’re holding a bottle and there’s an apothecary’s note scrawled on its lid, and you can see this was a bottle full of arsenic.
The girl speaks again.
“I guess this must come as some small relief, right? Like all this time you thought your transmutation, your reckless magic, is what killed the town of Glamour Springs. In actuality it was, you know, plain ol’ jealousy. But… still, all those people died.
The people of this town died all the same and you fed them their death.”
[He definitely wasn't kidding about having been framed.
When the memory ends, and the two of them find themselves back in the kitchen again - away from the stagecoach and the smaller wagon and that girl and her exoneration that's all wrapped up in an accusation - Flayn's expression pinches together in concern as she watches Taako's face.
That can't have been an easy thing to experience, or an easy thing to watch. ...it can't have been easy to let someone see it, either. Can it?
He's surprised her before, with his resiliency, but—]
[Yeah, he’s very pale right now. And has definitely dropped whatever he was working on, standing there for a second in shock before he scoffs and wipes his hands off on the front of his apron.]
Uh— see. Like I said, totally framed! At most 30 percent my fault. Maybe even just 25.
[He gives her a bit of look - maybe resenting what could be construed as pity - but he can’t help himself. Just humming and starting to move around the kitchen again. His hands are only a little shaky. He’s very very quiet for a bit, just working - pulling out ingredients and lining them up on the counter.]
[She thinks that he might - otherwise, why bring it up? But she knows from experience that you can say something and immediately regret it, so she'll take this at his pace.]
You're-- [He laughs a bit, crushing the tomatoes with the back of the wooden spoon.] Generous.
The, um, memory was this thing - we called 'em Grand Relics - but they were super powerful magic McGuffins, and this one was offering to, uh, undo the past. You could go back and erase it. Fix stuff, you know?
Extremely! Everyone thinks ol' Taako is all, uh, useless, but, jeez, I'm a fucking magic ace. Totally dangerous with it.
[Huffing a little bit of a laugh at that though.]
Yeah. That one, for example, makes a world where the mistake is fixed . . . but, uh, erases you from the one you're currently in, or locks you in a timeloop, over and over, trying to fix the very problem it caused over and over. My Grand Relic, the Philosopher's Stone, can transmuate anything to any other substance. In the wrong hands, well - you can turn a whole town into gold! But. That's the whole town. Every blade of grass, every speck of dirt, every person walking to the store.
So, I guess the lesson is, don't trust super magical items?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-07 10:24 am
no subject
[He doesn't finish getting it out.
You see a guy. You know this guy— he’s always looking at you, a bit too intently, running your errands, cleaning up after the shows (remember? Your traveling road show? There’s a bit of oddity to the memory here, when you try and remember how long you’ve been doing this, a fuzziness to it that burns behind your eyes when you try and concentrate on it, so you don’t). This guy, he’s hanging on your every word— well. Yeah. You know this guy. Sazed. Lately, as you’ve been performing, he’s been stepping out into the stage, giving a few sparks, a little catchphrase to the audience, and he thinks maybe you haven’t noticed.
You have.
A few days ago, you’d had this . . . weird conversation.
“Look. Listen. I’ve… I’ve really enjoyed working with you, and I think--I think--what would be great is if we could co-host this thing. Just like shared credit. Put- your name’s up on the--the stagecoach and it looks awesome; but i--what do you think about “Sizzle It Up With Taako and Sazed”? Just like, shared credit! Fifty-fifty split! And, you know, we share the workload and, uh, share the--share the glory, you know? And we—“
You aren’t pleased. Something burns in your gut.
“We just--What do you think?”
Eventually you speak up.
“Well, that is so groovy, I love that. It trips off the tongue, you know, but, um. I got all these t-shirts that already say “Sizzle It Up With Taako” and—“
“I can get new t-shirts! I can--y--I can--I printed those t-shirts for you! So I can print out new t-shirts.”
“That’s bad business, Sazed! I-I would love to help you out, but it’s just bad business! “Sizzle It Up With Taako” is the brand! I mean-- We’d have to throw all these in the- in the junkpile! And you can’t write on them! There’s not enough puffy paint in the world for all these t-shirts to add “Sazed” on there. Sorry! It’s mainly a merch thing. A licence, a merch, then the brand--you know--got the logo painted on the side of the, uhhhh, wagon. Already. So, I don’t know. I’ve got my brand established. I just don’t think it-it jives!”
“Okay. Alright. I get it. I get it. Okay.”
“Do you get it? Because I don’t want to keep having this conversation.”
“No, it’s locked in. Definitely. I-I got it, Taako…”
“Excellent!”
As for the next part. You remember this recipe like the back of your hand, like over the next… you know. Until today! Probably every day you think about this recipe, and think about the measurements, and think about what you could have possibly screwed up so very, very badly. So you’re doing this flashy production. A mix of magic and traditional cooking that seems more unnecessary than it is, but they seem to love it!
You finish the meal and the audience has been rapt this whole time, and you go to offer samples. The audience starts to walk towards your stagecoach and time freezes. And you remember what happens next. Um. Everybody dies, who eats that chicken. You’re lucky that you didn’t eat the chicken to taste it. Which is weird, because normally you would sample the food while you’re cooking it. Which you think could be leveraged as evidence against you for whatever repercussions you face for this horrible event that happens. And that’s the last time that “Sizzle It Up With Taako” ever takes place.
But it hasn’t happened yet in this scene! Time has been frozen. And this is the weird part of the memory - a girl, holding a golden cup, takes you by the hand. You suddenly realize the whole time you’ve been watching this as a sort of spectator in your own life.
“Come with me.”
She walks you behind the stagecoach to another smaller wagon that you towed alongside the stagecoach, used for storage. It’s also where Sazed hung out most of the time. And y sort of pass through the wall of that smaller wagon. Sitting inside on a small crate and looking extremely nervous, like, gripping his hair and staring intently down at the floor is Sazed. And they’re holding a bottle and there’s an apothecary’s note scrawled on its lid, and you can see this was a bottle full of arsenic.
The girl speaks again.
“I guess this must come as some small relief, right? Like all this time you thought your transmutation, your reckless magic, is what killed the town of Glamour Springs. In actuality it was, you know, plain ol’ jealousy. But… still, all those people died.
The people of this town died all the same and you fed them their death.”
Then it ends.]
no subject
When the memory ends, and the two of them find themselves back in the kitchen again - away from the stagecoach and the smaller wagon and that girl and her exoneration that's all wrapped up in an accusation - Flayn's expression pinches together in concern as she watches Taako's face.
That can't have been an easy thing to experience, or an easy thing to watch. ...it can't have been easy to let someone see it, either. Can it?
He's surprised her before, with his resiliency, but—]
Taako..?
no subject
Uh— see. Like I said, totally framed! At most 30 percent my fault. Maybe even just 25.
no subject
...
Flayn seems to be considering something for a moment or two.]
I believe you. [He was most definitely framed.] ...if it is not too much to ask after... that.
Would you cook something for me?
[Feel special, Taako, she's breaking her "no food but the stuff I prepare" rule for you.]
I would love to sample your cooking.
no subject
. . . That wasn’t the bad part.
no subject
[She thinks that he might - otherwise, why bring it up? But she knows from experience that you can say something and immediately regret it, so she'll take this at his pace.]
no subject
I, uh, ran. You know? As soon as people got sick. I just left, and we didn’t stop for two days.
no subject
[i mean.]
It must have been frightening... to see that happen, and to not know why.
no subject
[Tossing garlic and oil into a pan.]
Which, uh, might have done a little transmutation— mixed up nightshade and garlic.
no subject
[she thinks about what she knows of them.]
I suppose that might be an easy mistake to make.
no subject
Maybe! Maybe. The point is, well. 20% my fault.
no subject
[So there! that makes it 100% Sazed's fault.]
no subject
The, um, memory was this thing - we called 'em Grand Relics - but they were super powerful magic McGuffins, and this one was offering to, uh, undo the past. You could go back and erase it. Fix stuff, you know?
no subject
...there are things that can do that?
[Can they, like, get a McGuffin and erase the Thots timeline? Kill Polly week zero. Spare them all. Thanks.]
no subject
[ . . . ]
They've always got a downside.
no subject
[She's impressed! ...but what he says next is concerning.]
...do they?
no subject
[Huffing a little bit of a laugh at that though.]
Yeah. That one, for example, makes a world where the mistake is fixed . . . but, uh, erases you from the one you're currently in, or locks you in a timeloop, over and over, trying to fix the very problem it caused over and over. My Grand Relic, the Philosopher's Stone, can transmuate anything to any other substance. In the wrong hands, well - you can turn a whole town into gold! But. That's the whole town. Every blade of grass, every speck of dirt, every person walking to the store.
So, I guess the lesson is, don't trust super magical items?
no subject
[???
Flayn thinks Taako is pretty great. But anyway, magic items. That, uh, that definitely sounds horrifying.]
...or be very, very careful with how you use them, I suppose.