ALFG Chapter 166

#08: SEDATED by HOZIER

They go right back to rearranging the archives when they go back home. As interesting as it has been to see Kisaragi, sometimes it's too much too fast, and the holidays nearing isn't helping much. Even Kisaragi has Halloween, as removed as it is from Earth's history, which is surprising, but given how passionate Three is about figuring out his species' history, it makes sense.

The holidays mean Three has no excuse ducking his friends and family, though, so he apologetically has to leave Dirk by himself.

"Sorry for saddling you with the cat," the god says, wincing. "Again."

Said cat immediately jumps and latches onto Dirk's side, claws digging in. Little shit.

"We'll be fine," Dirk says, because damned if he's going to let a cat get the best of him.

The little bastard's mood shifts continue to evade him, but Dirk's pretty confident that he can counter them by now. It's been ten months. The furry asshole scratches and play-bites when he wants attention and screams when he wants food. On occasion, he jumps onto tables either Dirk or Three are working on to sit on whatever they're working on and look them in the eye as he does. Dirk has long since decided to exclusively work on long tables where he can just move to the side to avoid him.

Three's only gonna be away for two weeks at most, Kisaragi time. There's going to be a party at One's that Dirk's not keen on going since he doesn't know anybody there. He can handle a cat for that long.

"Thanks." Three bows slightly, still apologetic.

"Stand up, don't make it weird." Dirk starts to close the door in his face. "Now get the fuck off my porch."

Three laughs as the door shuts.

The cat climbs up his leg and meows. Dirk carefully pulls it off of him. Snack time for it, then.

He busies himself at the office over the next two weeks. He sorts through the records Three had left undone, tidies up the newly-emptied shelves, and works on his battle bot when he tires of archival work. When he bores himself from doing either, he goes through books in the library for anything on Heart magic, specifically those that concerned Princes and drifting.

In the time he’s been here, Dirk's learned that Three's archival duties are two-fold. He archives items for public knowledge and items that are exclusively for the ruling powers of Kisaragi, like his father's research, notes on magic, anything that has to do with Skaia. Dirk's been given the go-ahead to read his dead dad's journals, though, so he grabs every volume he can find in the chaos of the library and reads through all of them.

He throws up four times and has to take a walk so he doesn't have to think about the clinical, but horrifically detailed entries of Triton Peixes' 'research'. It's one thing to read accounts of borderline torture and another thing entirely to read accounts of borderline torture on someone you shared a house with for ten months. The journals sadly aren't organized, so he's going in blind with no idea if what he's reading will have what he's looking for, so he has to skim through most of them.

What new information he does find on Heart magic, he collects into a document on his laptop, just so he doesn't have to slough through Seabitch #2's work again. Three's younger sister, Four, is apparently a Thief of Heart with the Stand Primadonna Girl which allows her to steal, store, and swap between the magics she's collected. On her own, she isn't able to drift due to being a Thief class, but when she equips other Heart players' magics, the entries indicate that she had some success. It's where Dirk's getting the bulk of his new document on drifting.

The results of Four's training show that she found it easiest to drift with her dreamself, which is expected. She branched out to other timeline selves after a few more sessions, and once managed to tap into a completely different universe, though her account of what she saw is muddy. There is one entry that crosses over with an evaluation of Three's ability to sense timeline discrepancies where Four drifted with herself but at a different point in time – apparently, she had stabbed herself in the hand at the dinner table, when she was five years old, for seemingly no reason. At ten, five years later, Triton instructed her to test drifting with herself and prove it by doing the aforementioned stabbing. Three had sensed the timeloop closing successfully.

Dirk frowns as he reads through the copied entry again. Ten years old was awfully young to be using magic, especially with non-godtier bodies…decaytier, then? He's pretty sure there's a structure behind decaytier and that it was mentioned at the island with Nereus, though since it's been nearly a year for him, he's going to need a refresher. Hopefully, there are entries on how Peixes managed to unlock his children's magic. He's meticulous enough to detail other shit, he has to have that.

He ends up searching the library until five in the morning before he finds a dusty notebook with half-faded scribbles in the fuchsiablood writing system. Dirk can barely read it since there weren't a lot of resources for learning the language on his Earth, but he manages to make out forced gate opening, and doom.

That sounded like something One would know. If magic could be forcefully shoved into little kids' bodies and decaytiers could flood people with magic more than they're equipped to handle, then it should be feasible for Dirk to have his magic adjusted so he could drift, right? If he could drift with his version of Hal and follow that connection home, he's out of here.

…he's out of here. He can go back to the living version of Earth.

Three said he could come back to Kisaragi, but with visits practically impossible without rifts…

He looks at the library around him. A mess, but a now-familiar mess with his ten months here on Kisaragi island. He knows it as well as he knows this house, this street, this town. He even knows some of their neighbors here. Yesterday, One had thrown him an invitation to another party next month. It was someone's birthday or something.

Kisaragi was on a different time frame than everything else in reality. When he returns to NYC, it'll probably be like a week since he's left. Reasonably close. He's experienced the discrepancy first hand, he knows how this works by now.

No harm in staying a little longer, right? Giving himself some room to breathe? Some more time without having to wonder when he's going to eat next or when the world is going to fall to pieces around him?

He shoves the book back in its place and hops down to the ground floor. He kills the lights and heads for his room to go catch up on sleep.

#

The party is on the first week of November, just a few days after Crossing Week. One gladly explains to him that it's not going to be anything fancy, and he doesn't have to worry about dress code or etiquette. The first guardian is invited and he should worry about that but since it's a special occasion, the guy will probably behave.

"Show up," Damara tells him, crunching down loudly on a sugar cookie from where she's sitting across him. She and Seven are in town for the next month or so, and while they're staying at a hotel at the city center, they're over for the day since Seven hasn't seen Three in a while.

It unfortunately leaves Dirk to deal with Damara while the brothers are catching up on the back porch.

"It's a lot of fun,” she says.

"Forgive me if I don't trust your definition of fun," Dirk says, peering up from his laptop to look at her. She smiles ominously.

"Nobody's gonna force you to talk to people, you can just watch everyone from afar," Damara says. "Plenty of food too."

He eyes her for a minute but he doesn't know her well enough to decipher what she's getting at, so he looks back down at his work. "No, thank you."

"Hm, well, your loss," Damara says. "And don't get upset when you end up wanting to go, people did invite you."

"I don't think I'd do well with parties."

"I know." She finishes off her cookie and picks up another one. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Building a directory," he says. "Makes sorting through files easier."

"Ah, right, you're helping the weird sad guy with his job." Damara nods.

"He's not a weird sad guy."

"He's worse than Seven with his resting bitch face."

Dirk looks up at her properly just so she knows how unamusing that is.

"At least Seven's better with it 'cause he barely blinks or moves. He's like a sleep paralysis demon," Damara continues, ignoring him. "Three always looks like he's about to burst into tears whenever you do something."

"I'm not that intimidating; he's the guy who can set shit on fire with his mind."

Damara tilts her head, giving him the inquisitive stare this time. "Serious question," she says eventually. "Do you think when they look at us, they see someone else?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one, like I said." Damara huffs and leans back in her seat. She pats down her pockets like she's looking for something, and when she doesn't find it, gives up. Probably cigarettes. She was smoking in some of the photos she sent. "'Cause I think half the time these idiots look at us, they forget."

"I imagine there is some difficulty when we look like people they already know," Dirk says. "I've been guilty of doing the same thing."

"It's not the same with your dancestor."

"But mentally, I imagine it is," Dirk says. "Cut them some slack."

"You're not listening to me." Damara sighs, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. "Whatever. Anyway – show up. You'll just bitch about it after if you don't."

"I don't bitch."

"Wallow, then." She stands, brushing crumbs off her skirt.

"Hey – at least sweep those –"

Damara's already headed for the back, once again ignoring him. Three's cat hops off from where it's claimed a spot beside Dirk to sniff at the crumbs, but it doesn't eat them.

Dirk clicks the invitation message open on his chat client. Enough of the digital archive has been put in order, he can take a break; it's just a question of why on earth he would want to even go to some stupid party.

The back door opens as the others return. Seven huffs in exasperation as he leads Damara towards the kitchen while Three laughs in amusement. When he catches Dirk's gaze, he smiles and waves a little before following his guests to make sure they don't make a mess.

It's easy to brush off Three's familiarity with how they've known each other for nearly a year now. The guy's hosting him here, they live in the same house and have had to get used to each other's annoying habits. Of course he's going to act familiar.

And Hal had told him not to ask; Dirk has a million questions, but he can't ask Three. Even if he wants to, there's that pressing feeling that he shouldn't.

Besides, the guy could just deflect or not answer. Neither of his siblings would likely entertain his questions either.

But there is one other option.

He opens his chat log with One to confirm if he can just stick to the corners of the room during the party.

#

"Present."

The little clown – well, it's human-sized today – holds its clawed hand out to him and makes a gimme motion. Dirk steps back and raises an eyebrow. "Why should I?"

The clown gasps, fake-offended, and puts its hands over its chest. The bells on its ruffled sleeves jingle as it moves. "Don't you know what we're celebrating today?" it asks. "It's my birthday."

Dirk turns to Three, who pauses and goes, "Technically."

"You're serious?"

"Technically, it could be counted as its birthday." Three says, adjusting the sling of the cat carrier on his shoulder.

The clown eyes it and licks its lips.

He puts a hand on it protectively. "No."

"Come on," the clown says. "Not even as an appetizer?"

"Not on your life,” Three says. "I can give you cake later though."

The clown huffs, but steps aside and lets them both pass. As they do, it takes a snap at the ends of Three's hair, making the god hurry forward and bump into Dirk in a panic. The clown cackles.

[Don't harass them,] Electric Love calls out from the middle of the room, helping move a refectory table to the side. [It's Three's birthday too, you know.]

"Regrettably." The clown sighs, proceeding to literally melt into a puddle of shadow. "It's unfortunate how simultaneous births work."

The puddle of shadow zips from the floor to where Electric Love is, winding around his ankle and up his leg until it drapes over his shoulders and melds with his cape. The clown pops back into existence behind the Stand, arms wound around him.

[You could help,] Electric Love says.

"It's my birthday," the clown says sweetly.

"It's your birthday?" Dirk asks, turning to Three, who shrugs.

"Also a technicality," he says. "Time doesn't work right in Kisaragi, we have our own calendar here so people don't go insane."

"But it's your wriggling day?"

"Yeah."

They both stare each other down, but Three relents first, shrugging again. "It's just a birthday."

It is, and even Dirk himself doesn't personally celebrate his much, except this might be the only birthday he's going to be around for, at least for a while. Damara had said – Damara! Oh, she'd known –

He looks around the room to look for her and finds her at the tops of the stairs telekinetically directing streamers to the ceiling to hang from hooks. She notices him staring and smiles impishly, waving her fingers.

"It's fine," Three says.

[Seven and One are in the kitchen if you want to help. You're one of the few people here who can cook,] Electric Love says. He sets the table down where it needs to be and motions for Three's bag. [They said for you to go there. I'll get your luggage.]

Three nods, letting his cat out to roam before heading for the kitchen, handing his stuff over to Electric Love on the way.

The Stand turns to Dirk. [Hal's at the driveway if you want to help. Your guestroom is the same as last time.]

Dirk flies up the stairs, shooting Damara a glare (not that she sees it) as he heads for his room to drop his stuff off. As Electric Love had said, Hal is out back by the driveway signing delivery forms and taking packages.

"Let me guess, nobody told you," Hal says, not even bothering to turn as Dirk approaches. He hands the papers he’s just signed back to the driver, and the man tips his hat and climbs back into his truck.

"That obvious?" Dirk asks. Multicolored boxes are on the ground, the brand names marked on them declaring them to be party decorations.

"I did the same panic-run when One didn't tell me the first time, I get it." Hal snickers. "None of these assholes know how to tell people anything."

"Megido knew."

"I think she snooped around Seven's house. His students love him, they send him shit for his birthday all the time and he keeps them." Hal motions to the boxes on his left. "Balloons inside first, give them to her."

There are four boxes so Dirk stacks them on top of each other and carefully carries them inside. Easier to bring everything in one trip. Damara has moved to the ground floor by the time he gets back, and he purposefully drops the boxes near her. The tower shakes and crumbles, the boxes on the top tumbling down.

They never hit her since her telekinesis stops them from fully falling, sadly. Damara leans to the side to glare at him.

"Hal said to give them to you," Dirk says.

Damara sneers. He flips her off as he returns out back to carry everything else in.

Between all of them, the house gets set up for the party quickly. They break for lunch before getting back to it, which is when it hits Dirk that this is a party-party, and there are going to be a shitton of people if everyone's preparing this much.

The clown creature is probably going to hang out with Electric Love the whole night, so he's going to have to wade through people if he's going to talk to it. It's pretty social, so talking to it isn’t going to be the problem; it'll be talking to it alone.

Three had promised to hand it cake, maybe he can bait it with food and do the same? Worth a try – at least, if he doesn't suffocate with how many people end up showing up at the party.

A few faces are familiar, especially the ones that crowd around Hal. Dirk's pretty sure he's seen versions of them from the other Earth during the island meet-up, and there are some he's seen from photos Three has around the house. He makes no effort in approaching any of them, sticking close to doorways and keeping an eye on the clown, which is going around snatching people's food when they're not looking.

He pretends to leave his plate on top of a cabinet and looks away, keeping it in his periphery as he checks his phone. When the shadow under it grows and begins to pop out fangs, he snatches the plate up.

"I need to ask you something," he starts before the clown can protest. "I'll give you my food if you answer."

The clown's head pops up from the small shadow, the size of a teacup. "Ooh, what are you snooping for, mini-prince?"

"I'm not snooping."

"Yeah you are." A miniature arm pops out this time and the clown points to its painted nose. "I can smell it."

"Do you want the food or not?"

"I never said that." The clown climbs out the small pool of shadow. It's the size of a figurine now, tiny and easy to miss with how many people are in the dining hall. It holds its arms out. "Up."

Dirk grabs it by the scruff of its costume's neck ruffles and stuffs it into the pocket of his jacket. It thrashes around; a small but sharp needle suddenly stabs him in the stomach. Dirk grunts, but it’ll heal.

"Bastard!" the clown tinnily shrieks.

Dirk speedwalks away, heading for one of the hallways that leads to the garden out back. The clown climbs out of his pocket and scales up to his shoulder to scream in his ear – he flinches at the noise, nearly tripping off the last step to the grounds.

"You're the worst Strider!" it yells. "Asshole! Loser! Loser loser loser stupid idiot!"

Dirk grabs it and holds it away from him, sitting down so he can set his plate on the ground. He rubs his ear, the one the clown had screamed into. "Are you done?"

"Bitchless and fatherless!" the clown continues, kicking its feet in the air. "You’re such a jerk!"

"Heard you the first time." Dirk sets the clown on his knee. It immediately starts punching his kneecap, though he can barely feel it. "Do you know anything about Hal's Dirk?"

"He's just as bitchless and fatherless as you are." The tiny clown stomps on his knee, and when that isn’t satisfying enough, starts jumping on it. "Lame. Super super super lame. He's so rude to Hal. And he's a petty jealous bitch because he doesn't even have a Stand."

It pauses, expression thoughtful, and corrects: "Actually, E said he got a Stand very recently. Heartbreak Hotel or something. Lame anyway, it's never going to be as cool as E. Boo!"

It resumes stomping on his knee.

"Hal said he barely knew his powers," Dirk says.

"Well duh." The clown rolls its eyes. "He spent, like, years in a small box. And E said he always fought with his sword before that. Some shitty figurine if pressed, but he rarely used magic, if he ever even did. Hell if I know."

"Rare use doesn't mean he barely knows it."

"I'm not him, I don't know."

"Aren't you linked to Electric Love?"

"But I'm not Electric Love." The clown crosses its arms and turns its chin up. "If you ask me, I think it's because he never bothered to learn, since he already knew how to fight with a sword. And that just worked for him, until it didn't and he got stuck in a tiny box."

"And why did he get stuck in a tiny box?" Dirk asks. He's following what the clown is saying about the magic – hell, before dropping to Earth, he barely used his powers – but not everything else.

"It was some big battle where he got his ass beat. I don't know. Hal doesn't know a lot so E doesn't know a lot, and I, in turn, know shit-all." The clown throws its hands up. "I just know he's stupid weak with magic."

Dirk lets the information file neatly under one of his theories.

"And where was Hal in this?" he asks.

"I don't know," the clown says.

"If his Dirk barely knew his powers, how did Hal get a Stand?" he tries from a different angle.

"Oh, he got them here," the clown says. "Cause he didn't have a body for a while, and the spatial walls were weak. One helped force his class gate open."

Forced gate opening. One does know how to do it. Good, that's on Dirk's arsenal for when it's time to test if he can drift with his version of Hal.

"What else?" the clown asks. It's sitting on his knee now, grey eyes mischievous as it looks up at him. The sudden patience trips something off in Dirk's head, the feeling of being poked around like a rat in an electric cage – he's seen this clown pull Electric Love around with monstrous strength, it could have easily shoved him away and run off. It's been entertaining his questions for some reason.

As if recognizing that he's aware of what it's doing, it grins with its mouth full of needles.

"You wanted to know, right?" it asks. "One is so boring. They're always work, work, work, and duty, duty, duty. They're never any fun. I never have any fun. We rarely get to relax."

It sighs dramatically, flopping over his knee as if it's fainting.

"So here I am, all my pent-up energy bursting out as a rebellious streak! Oh! Whatever shall I do when the chance presents itself!"

"Shut up," Dirk says. It snickers. "I talked to Hal about using drift as a crutch for moving through universes."

The clown sits up, nodding. “Go on.”

"He implied his Dirk isn't…the one who hurt Three," he says. The rest of the thought stalls in his mind – he knows what Hal was implying, but that can't be right. It doesn't make any sense.

"Well." The clown claps its hands together. "If his Dirk was in a box, there still had to be a Prince who tried to eat the Sun." It smiles. "How do you think it went?"

"Hal's universe crashed with yours," Dirk says. "It got ugly.”

Three hasn't talked about it much outside of there being a war, his Dirk being an interloper, and him defending his territory. He barely really mentions it when he isn’t asked, and Dirk doesn't blame him. Going from his father's years of mistreatment and the game, and then a war, with only a year of pause in between? He has no idea how Three still has his head on straight.

"There were bits and pieces of foreign bodies entering our universe." The clown nods sagely. "This was because of the rifts in space caused by Lord English. We've fixed everything now, of course. But you know, back then -” It points to the night sky “ - it was carnage out there."

It brings its hand back down to steeple its fingers as it continues to talk.

"Lord English is an unholy abomination who is inescapable in the tapestry of time," the clown says, "Goes around cracking space," it pauses, "And destroys the souls of the dead."

It looks at him empathically, as if waiting for him to understand. When he similarly waits for it to continue, it lets out a frustrated breath.

"Lord English is a Time player. A cherub who is a Lord of Time. That's why he's got his whole inevitability thing." It waves a hand. "But what time player affects space and destroys souls?"

Another pause. This time, Dirk's thoughts are whirring.

“There we go.” The clown smiles. "You've seen another time player access soul magic, right? When Three crossed his magic and yours and got poisoned? Two classpects in one body was just too much for him to handle, especially because it was merged with him from someone else."

The clown leans forward and puts a hand to the side of its mouth, pantomiming a whisper.

"Hey, Dirk," it says. "Where do you think Lord English got his power to destroy souls?"

A cherub. No fucking way. And for it to specifically be magic that destroyed souls, then –

"Don't panic," the clown says, as if this isn't reason to completely fucking panic because there was a demon out there that was possibly running around with magic it got from him. "Like I said, that other Dirk got locked in a box. The Dirk that fucked little brother up didn't, but he also didn't get amalgamated into Lord English."

"But someone did."

"Mm-hm." The clown nods. "Someone did."

Hal.

The shock must show on his face because the clown grins. "Why do you think he knows how to drift?" it asks. "Why he had a class gate that could be forced open to result in a Stand, even if his Stand is slightly weaker than most on its own?"

"That still doesn't explain it," Dirk says. "What he said, I mean. If his Dirk was locked in a box, then –"

Why did he act like it was Dirk, this specific Dirk, who came and killed Three?

"I think you're smart enough to figure out how this fairy tale ends." The clown giggles. "You're a Prince, after all."

Someone taps his shoulder, a little jolt of electricity making his arm jump at the sensation. He turns, looking up and up and up at the towering form of Electric Love. The Stand’s visor is off tonight, since he's swapped his armor out for more casual clothes for the party, giving Dirk a full view of the pissed-off expression on his face, neon pink irises against dark sclera glaring down at him.

Wordlessly, Electric Love holds a hand out and inclines his head for the tiny clown. Dirk stares at him for a moment before he (carefully) picks the creature up and passes it to him.

The clown runs up his arm, racing up to his shoulder, before sliding down his shirt, straight into the chest pocket of his jacket. It pops its head up with a smile as it looks up at him with adoration.

[Please,] Electric Love starts, still looking at Dirk. [If there is a next time, mind how you carry it with you. You may be a version of my user's creator, but I have my duties.] He frowns deeper. [Try this again, and I will break your neck.]

Jesus Christ.

The Stand doesn't wait for Dirk to say anything, not even an apology. He just turns away and walks back into the house.

Dirk hadn't even managed to give the clown his food in exchange.

#

The party drags on deep into the early hours of the morning, so Dirk dips out early and goes to sleep - or tries to, as best as he can with, well, everything.

Everything he’d observed from that little clown was that, though it loved undermining One, it always did so by being truthful. Even if it was just little things Dirk asked when he got here the first time. He knows he shouldn’t bet everything on a hunch that that thing lied less than One did, but what reason would it have to lie to him?

Actually, there were plenty of reasons. It seemed to like chaos. That’s reason enough to lie to him and watch him overthink.

But it fits with what Hal had said, and Hal definitely hadn’t been lying at that time. His Dirk was a different one, someone who was out of commission for a while and thus couldn’t shred someone’s soul to pieces.

Everything he’s found so far is pointing at a certain direction.

He stays awake until the sounds of the party slow, and then fade away. Sometime at dawn, the noises completely cease. The house is quiet. Everyone must have gone home or turned in for the night to sleep.

Dirk sits up, rubbing fatigue from his eyes and blindly hunting for his glasses on the nightstand. He’s not getting any rest and he’s got nothing to do here, might as well go have breakfast early.

Downstairs is surprisingly clean for a party that dragged on so late. There are leftovers in One's massive fridge, so he heats some of those up, sitting on the island while he waits for the meat to warm on the frying pan.

There’s a large cooler beside the fridge, which is probably where One was storing drinks for party guests since their freezer would not have been able to accommodate the large number of beverages. Dirk opens it to check if there’s any soda left - "What the fuck."

Three looks up at him from where he's submerged in a pool of water and half-melted ice. He's sitting in the cooler, blankly staring ahead, the water up to his cheeks.

Dirk almost thinks he's spaced out until his irises slide over to him. Three sits up properly and lifts his head out of the water.

"Did your powers go haywire again?" Dirk asks.

"A bit," Three says quietly. "I get…weird about my birthday sometimes."

“Yeah?”

Three nods, leaning his head back on the edge of the cooler. “It’s just odd,” he says. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

“The attention?”

“That’s part of it,” he says. “And the fact that it just…keeps going, you know?” He motions with his hand, and since it’s underwater, it sends ripples across the small space. “I was raised as a soldier. It’s all I knew how to do then. I’ve survived the game and now I’m a god; and now that’s part of all I know how to do.”

His expression scrunches up, a rare moment of visible emotion from him.

“And you’re telling me this just keeps going?” he asks. “I’m gonna have to do this again for another year, and another year after that?”

This is starting to sound alarming. Dirk settles on the edge of the cooler, keeping Three company as the god glares down at the water. “What…do you want to happen, then?”

“I don’t know.” Three shrugs. “This is all I’ve known. I don’t - I don’t know what to want. If I can even want, or if I should want for anything. If I deserve to.”

Being in the water has weighed his clothes down so his sleeves have been pulled back, exposing the scars on his forearms. Dirk stares at the pink one on his left wrist for a long while.

“Well,” Dirk starts, eventually. “I…am completely shit with advice.”

Three snorts, puts a hand over his mouth, and then straight up laughs.

At least Dirk can make Three laugh. He’s got that going for him right now. “You’re the guy who says hallmark shit here.”

“I suppose I am,” Three says. “Thank you for trying anyway.”

“I mean, I’m not the best with figuring out what the hell to do in the long run; you had to tell me to take things slowly.” Dirk moves to sit on the floor, leaning his arm against the side of the tub as he angles himself so he’s still facing Three. “Maybe try that.”

“Maybe,” Three says. He lists to the side so he’s leaning on the edge closest to Dirk. “But I’m a god here, I can’t just leave.”

“...Three, do you like being a god?”

Three looks down. He shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I love learning about Earth and Beforus, and I don’t really have it as bad as One does. If anything, my duties are more self-imposed because I think it would be nice for humans and trolls to know where we all came from. It’s not that common for interuniversal invasions to happen, so guarding this place against outside forces that seek it harm isn’t really something that’s always on the table for me.”

Dirk’s gaze flickers to his scar again. If…what he suspected was true…

Whatever. Not the issue right now. Friend having a crisis here. He can focus on that instead. “But do you like what you’re doing?”

“I like some parts of it,” Three says. “I would have loved to see Earth or Beforus. This is the closest I can get to it - I just…” He pauses, sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Have you seen a lot of your universe here?” Dirk asks.

“A fair bit.”

“Well, Kisaragi itself is huge; plenty of places to see,” he says. It’s what he’s been doing here, and it’s what Three’s told him to do. It’s worked for him. “And…” He hesitates. God, if he’s right…

If he’s right, Three is a god of time who has already lived through what’s happened.

And yet.

Fuck.

“...when One figures out how to let people pass between universes safely,” Dirk says, struggling not to bite his tongue. “I can show you around Earth.”

Three stares at him.

“What?” Dirk asks.

“Hm,” Three says, and then sinks under the water.

Dirk leans over the edge, watching him sigh out a stream of bubbles until his breath runs out. And then, he seems to take another breath in the water (?) and does it again.

“How the hell are you doing that?” Dirk asks.

Three comes up to the surface after another minute. “I was just breathing,” he says, like that makes any sense. “Thank you for the offer, I would love that.”

He looks at Dirk as he says that. Damara wasn’t wrong. There’s a certain kind of recognition there.

“Sure,” Dirk says. “I also barely have any idea how Earth works.”

Three snorts. “You better learn while you wait, then.”

“I’ll ask around,” he says, and then clears his throat. “So do you just sit in coolers when your powers fuck up?”