controledfreak: (Contemplation)
Yg'baladoth ([personal profile] controledfreak) wrote in [community profile] mylittlelogs2014-10-19 11:31 am

Sententia Sanctus [private to Pokey]

Who: Yg'baladoth and Pokey Minch
What: Yggy and Pokey explore Pokey's memory of Mayfield
Where: Yg'baladoth's Sanctuary, within the Bell Tower in Ponyville
When: October 19th, Noon
Warnings: Eldrtich thoughts, brat thoughts, and Mayfield. What could possibly go wrong?

Yggy had gotten used to the transition of resting every night. She never had to follow the normal cycle of sleep and being awake, but with the foreignness of the world she found it best to retreat to her own personal realm of chaos. This was important for her to eat, to recover from daily bumps and bruises, and on ocassion to reassess the statements and phrases she heard that day.

But this time is different. This time she is bringing somebody else inside. She had explored the possibility of this already, of course, and there were several squirrels and birds that would probably never be the same again. Yet that was less important to Yg'baladoth than the one that was going to give this a try. Breaking down the mind of the one that has provided her with so much information seemed counterproductive at best and a waste at worst that she had to make sure he could enter safely. Then there was storing up energy, threatening the town, dodging Discord, and all manner of various things to occupy her time. She was starting to believe she would be at this point. Yet, here they are.

Yg'baladoth stood on the top the bell tower in the middle of town as she always had. She anticipated and this. Only time would tell if this would be successful.

But before she began her eyes opened and looked intently on Pokey. "Have you made your decision?"
ceasetoexist: (That's stupid)

[personal profile] ceasetoexist 2014-10-20 11:13 pm (UTC)(link)
There, finally standing next to this thing, Pokey can't help but feel a slight moment of anxiety. Of wanting to turn back.

But his desire to see his town one last time - his selfishness, which can ignore the fact that the town wouldn't even be a construct of a computer, but simply his memory - is just too strong. He shrugs his scaly little arms, shaking his head a little.

"My decision hasn't changed. You want to see it?"

Because he wants to see it again.

"Then lets go."

It isn't particularly a good life decision, and that'd be putting it as tamely as possible. If it weren't for his current emotional apathy, perhaps Pokey would have taken more time to evaluate what he was doing. But as it stood, for the here and now, he simply didn't care.

Just give him this. This one thing. And he'd be happy, if just for now.

And besides.

Poor life choices were, in part, what still made him Pokey Minch.
ceasetoexist: (Here's my back suckers)

[personal profile] ceasetoexist 2014-10-31 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
He's used to things like this himself, by this point. Seeing reality get torn a new one is pretty much as common an occurrence as the sun rising and setting. Still, despite how common place it had become to Pokey, it didn't take out all the intimidation of the portal, and he finds himself taking a step or two back at the sight of it.

As he watches Yg'baladoth enter the portal, he reconsiders for just a second, of running and leaving right here and now. But as the case often was with him, he'd come this far.

No point turning away and backing out now.

Pokey takes a breath and then, slowly, crosses the threshold into Yggy's mindspace.
ceasetoexist: (Default)

[personal profile] ceasetoexist 2014-10-31 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
Laws of reality continuing to be broken? Check. Still nothing too strange compared to what's come before it or what he had seen, though that's still poor comfort. In a weird way, he hates more than anything that his sight is almost constantly drawn to her as everything else fades into blackness. He'd like a chance to look at anything else.

"Yeah, well, bravery hasn't got anything to do with it," Pokey mumbles. It's straight foolishness. And desperation, though in a weird way he isn't sure if Yggy can pick up on that yet. He doesn't know how well the eldritch monster can read him, which isn't a surprise but it doesn't exactly help matters.

Pokey listens to Yggy and watches her demonstration. Doesn't seem too difficult. Really, it doesn't seem like it's that different from the administrative powers the primary survivors in Mayfield had been given, just a little more ethereal at the moment.

Poke holds out his hand and thinks. It takes a moment, certainly longer than it took Yggy to do so, but still not too long before Pokey has produced his own apple, holding it in his hand. He brings it close to his mouth, as if thinking about biting into it, before pulling it away for the moment.

No. He just doesn't care that much to even try.

"Doesn't seem that hard. Anything else I need to know?"
ceasetoexist: (I don't care)

[personal profile] ceasetoexist 2014-10-31 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
Pokey gazes back at Yg'baladoth, hands clenching into scaly little fists. He doesn't want to tell her his fears. It's a stupid thought to have, considering how much he's revealing anyway. But to reveal your fears, out and out, went too counter to how he had lived. He thinks for a moment.

"...The hazmats, maybe. Big living suits with axes and flamethrowers. Ended up burning me to death." Hell, why not admit the death part if he's admitting it to begin with. It's not like he doesn't have a list of deaths, anyway.

"Other than that, I'm fine. Doesn't matter to me if my mind is glop at the end of this or not."
ceasetoexist: (I think that's right....)

[personal profile] ceasetoexist 2014-10-31 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he shoves his hands into the pockets of his business suit, just looking to the side, until Yggy physically fades from view.

He looks around in the darkness, in the pitch black, as if confused as to where to even start. He has an idea of how to start the story but now that he's here alone it seems too intimidating to even try. He's not even sure how hard he needs to try, or think, to manifest things. The apple was simple, sure, but re-imagining the whole town? Every person he met here? She says he only needs to remember it. But now that it's come to it, part of him doesn't want to. Because it's only now becoming obvious how painful this is going to be.

Part of him feels like half-assing it now, just skimping on his original deal with Yg'baladoth and remembering only the broadest and simplest things. It'd be easiest on him, that's for sure.

But he can't shake the feeling that she'd notice. That she'd realize, here, that he was withholding from her with ease. And despite how much death's sting had been dulled for Pokey over the two and a half years and six deaths he had gone through, there was still at least a little fear at the possibility of punishment. He could say what he wanted, but Pokey was far from fearless. He was just less of a sniveling coward then where he had begun.

Where to start then? For a moment he just crosses his arms and closes his eyes, looking almost as if pouting. Perhaps, in a way, he is, but he's pondering too. How to start.

Well. Might as well begin from where it started for him.

And so the darkness parts way, and starts to give form. As the pitch black lulls back, it reveals a small and plain, though comfortable bedroom reminiscent of 1950s American architecture that would be suitable for a child or young teen. A bed, a dresser, and a bedside table. A small chest that someone could keep toys, or as they got older, other possessions in. On the table a photo, meant to be a family portrait.

Pokey is silent a moment more before he speaks, looking around the room briefly as if to make sure everything is in order.

"...This is my room. This is where I woke up when I was brought here or, I guess, when I was born here."

His words are slow at first, not because he's having any difficulty remembering but as if he is, for a brief moment, overwhelmed.

"It ain't much to look at, and it'd change back to normal if you made too many adjustments to make it not suck."

He looks over at the picture for a moment and takes it. At the moment, only Pokey is visible in the picture, but it looks as if he was stationed for other people to be there.

"When you get there, the place tries to convince you you'd always been there. Which, you know...you had. Just not as 'you' right now. Part of that was by creating photos in the house that showed everyone who lived there at the moment, and made them look like some sappy happy family. ...I saw a lot of people come and go, get in and then get permanently reverted back to drones. I was the only one who really stuck. It got kind of lonely, I guess."

And, to a point, maybe deep down, created some guilt in him. A feeling that no matter how many came, only he 'survived'. Wondering almost if it was something about him, or because of him, but he tries to push those emotions down.

"I really can't remember too many of the people who ended up living with me. Although..." And then? The image of a green haired girl stands next to Pokey's in the picture. She's looks to only be a couple years Pokey's junior, physically at least, maybe 9 or 10. "There was this one girl, Clod. She stuck around for a while. ...She was my favorite of the siblings this place gave me. We related...on a couple levels I guess."

He misses her.

He stares at the picture for a moment before putting it down again. Even then, he looks at it a few seconds more before leaving the bedroom and going down the stairwell of the house to the first floor. The house is unremarkable, adornments plain as he walks. Although, sometimes, for a split second?

The interior changes. The wood becomes warped and cracked, splintered from fire. Carpet and upholstery too seem stripped away, frayed edges pointing towards the ruined and near collapsing ceiling.

It's hard to tell if Pokey notices the almost instantaneous changes. If he does, he sure doesn't show it.

"Like I said, house is pretty normal and most of the houses in town are exact copies of each other, with rooms added or whatever for the size of the family living there. No real reason to stick around in here, unless for some reason you want me to give you a full tour of the dumb place before I show you the town."
ceasetoexist: (I-uh-wait!)

[personal profile] ceasetoexist 2014-11-15 06:58 am (UTC)(link)
"Shut up, I know what I'm doing," the bratty teenager tells the elder god.

It isn't so much unaware that Yggy is there as much as not caring. She doesn't fit into his 'idea' of Mayfield, even as he creates it around himself inside her own sanctum. Even there, his ideal of the place is as it ever was, within his mind and free from intrusion. Perhaps, in a way, the single thing the boy could ever hold close to something sacred. In the back of his mind, he knows she's there of course. Pokey supposes Yggy might be everywhere right now, all things considered.

But he doesn't care. And he doesn't 'notice'.

Still, despite his stubbornness, Pokey stays in the house awhile. He goes into rooms, as bland and normal as the last, and looks in them for a little bit, as much to make sure they look right as it is to stand still in this moment, in this feeling of being home. People come and go from the house; not an entering and exiting, mind you, but they appear and then disappear as Pokey remembers them. A conga line of people - men, women, and children - who occupy the house for brief moments and are then gone. Pokey doesn't bother to add any explanation to them when they intrude during his own exploration of the house - forcing the house back into focus, making it the 502 Ricardo Street that he remembers - though it isn't because Pokey doesn't notice them. He often turns to look at the people as they are then and then are gone, apparitions retreating from the reality here and back solely into the depths of Pokey's mind. The little green haired girl Pokey had mentioned earlier is the most prominent of them, though she fades and is gone just as often as the others.

It's...Pokey himself isn't sure how long he explores and wanders his own house. Does it really matter here? He guesses he can question how much time is passing, but it'd be a useless question. And dumb. Who cares? Either way he's wasting time wandering around here.

He finally opens the door and walks out.

The sight outside is somehow as quaint as it would be unnerving to a normal person. The street is full of houses of the exact same size and architectural type, plain prisons for the inmates of the town's devices. The streets too are full of cars that would be normal in the 1950s, perpendicularly parked in perfection among one another. Occasionally a person passes Pokey by. You could say it's a human, but it seems almost too human to be so. Too normal and plain and engrossed in it's normal and plain life, from the way it walks to the perfectness of its close to the happy hello it says to Pokey as it passes by.

"That's a drone," Pokey finally says, watching as one of them passes by, "They're the blank slates of the people who get brought here. They're just these plain, mindless bums that Zemekis decorates the place with until he brings someone in. Then the person he creates personality and physical body is imprinted on a drone and, for all intents and purposes, that drone becomes that person."

He turns around, and begins to point to the house to the left of his own. "That's 501 Ricardo and it's-"

He pauses, the arm he was using to point starting to falter and go limp but he catches himself from doing that. The house itself appears normal, but in the window of the house is a little blonde, pig-tailed girl, smiling back out. Pokey just stares back at the girl. And then, when it's clear nothing is going to happen and he remembers that this is just a reflection of his own memory - though for a moment, it's so easy to get lost into thinking it isn't - Pokey speaks again.

"It's where a bunch of the people in charge of the town, including Zemekis, live. That little girl, right there? That is Zemekis, the person responsible for bringing everyone here."