[undarkest timeline] oopfsb: watchers always make lists

[stilljustandrew]

He needs to write that list. He promised Matt.

Watchers always make lists.

Abilities

can take on the form of any individual dead or formerly dead

can (apparently) know anything known to the dead

can sometimes interfere with magical energies so as to disrupt spells aimed at it directly

can give abilities such as superhuman strength or clairvoyance to its chosen followers, while transforming others into Harbingers

can appear and speak to one individual while remaining unseen and unheard by others present

has claimed the ability to pull people out of hell (unconfirmed)

can communicate with people through dreams nightmares

Known Strategies

winning followers through promises and/or corruption

impersonating close friends / loved ones, to deceive and mislead (esp. if the individual is not known to have died)

appearing as close friends / loved ones / enemies without keeping up pretense of actually being them, to stir up strong emotion and cloud judgment

passing misinformation / interfering with communication

damaging morale through constant harassment, esp. of those in fragile emotional/mental states

Andrew hesitates, then adds under that last: On more than one occasion the First has attempted, often but not always successfully, to talk people into murder and/or suicide.

He stops and looks at it for several minutes, trying to decide if that sounds melodramatic.

"You okay?" asks Jonathan's voice behind him.

He turns before his mind catches up, and stutters "Y-yeah."

Jonathan's sitting there on the edge of his bed, looking sad and sympathetic and even a little indignant on his behalf. "He dumped you, didn't he. I'm sorry. That sucks."

Andrew closes his eyes. "If you wanna talk to me," he says unsteadily, "stop looking like him."

"Sorry," says another voice, ruefully; when he opens his eyes, it's Ava Wilson sitting there. "Better?"

"Not much." He turns back to the list, shoulders hunched as though he could hide what he's writing.

"I mean it, though. I am sorry. Especially since it kinda was actually my fault? I called it wrong, I figured for sure he'd stick it out with you."

Andrew's fingers close hard on the pen. "Did you want something?"

She laughs. "What? I told you I'd be back. But listen, if this isn't a good time I can always come back later."

"Yeah," he says to the paper. "Do that. Please."

A pause, and then sounding pleased: "Well, since you ask so nicely. Sure. Just -- one thing before I go?" She pauses, and then when he doesn't respond goes on, her tone shading into concern: "Don't ... don't let it get to you, okay? If he's not gonna be there when you need him, he doesn't deserve you."

Silence. Andrew waits, then slowly lets a breath trickle out.

Then freezes, as his own voice breathes wickedly into his ear: "He deserves me."



When he turns to look, the room's empty.

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

"I know that. I do. It's just ..."

He rubs a hand across his forehead, trying to be surreptitious about wiping his eyes (and miserably aware that he's probably failing at it).

[nita_callahan]

Shit, she sucks at this. She looks around for a box of tissues, a towel, anything. At the very least, she might give him a moment to compose himself, if he needs it.

[stilljustandrew]

(There's a box of tissues on the desk, within easy reach.)

Andrew swallows, trying hard to keep himself together. Trying to work out how to end that sentence.

[nita_callahan]

She snags the box of tissues and proffers it to him.

"Sorry."

[stilljustandrew]

He takes the box with a mumble of thanks, tugs out a tissue and wipes his eyes again.



"He didn't even give me a chance. H-he just decided it wasn't a good idea."

[nita_callahan]

"Oh, Andrew," she says, helpless. "I'm sorry."

[stilljustandrew]

"But I don't --"

He struggles to get the words out through the sob that's lodged itself somewhere south of his throat.

"I'm scared it's gonna try to make me hate him. I don't want to."

[nita_callahan]

--Well, scratch the strategy of telling him what an asshole Matt is, then. Not helpful.

"You can feel hurt," slowly, "and you can -- it can be okay to be hurt by him, and you can not hate him."

[stilljustandrew]

There's a pause.

His nod is small and shaky, as he rubs at his eyes again.

"Can you ... remind me of that? Later? If, if I need it?"

[nita_callahan]

Immediately: "Yes. As often as you need."

[stilljustandrew]

He sniffs hard, and blows his nose.

"Thanks."

[nita_callahan]

"Anytime."

She sits back, sighing.

"It really is okay to hurt, you know? But if won't last forever. It really won't. You're gonna be okay."

[stilljustandrew]

"I hope so." Muffled, as he blots at his eyes with the crumpled tissue. "I just ... feel like such a wreck. I mean I was already a wreck, after ..."

[nita_callahan]

She nods, rueful.

"It's hard to catch a break."

[stilljustandrew]

"I thought I had."

[nita_callahan]

"Oh, Andrew," she murmurs. "He's -- it'll be okay."

She doesn't see that there's much else she can do, besides repeating that: it'll be okay. Eventually. It gets better, eventually.

Eventually just seems like such a long way away.

[stilljustandrew]

This time there's impatience in the gesture when he wipes his eyes, as though he's trying to push his misery aside with the tears.

"I should -- we should talk about the First."

[nita_callahan]

She hesitates, then nods. Let him drive the conversation.

"Yeah, we probably should. What else can you tell me about it?"

[stilljustandrew]

It was just here.

The words stick in his throat, and he holds out the list he's been writing instead.

[nita_callahan]

Her expression, as she reads the paper, quickly goes from curious to startled to intent.

"'Can appear and speak to one individual while remaining unseen and unheard by others present?'" she reads, dismayed.

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah." He's getting some of his composure back; enough to make a wry face at that. "Like your very own Harvey."

[nita_callahan]

"Interferes with magical energies -- Jesus. Okay."

The last line also gives her pause. She reads over it a couple of times, absent-mindedly rubbing a thumb over one of the scars on her forearm.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew's gaze flicks down to the scar, then back up to her face.

[nita_callahan]

"I can see what you're worried about," she says quietly, looking up at him.

"But if we're forewarned -- some of these strategies shouldn't work as well. I mean, I'm sure it's good at what it does, but at least we can prepare ourselves."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah," he says, "like -- actually impersonating people, that won't work if we're on our guard."