ya know..If Im not drawing Dark, or Wilford, half of the time I’m thinking about the Host. Don’t know much on him yet but ive always wanted to draw him, but kept forgetting. so thanks anon!
Are there any roleplayers out there that are active and want to roleplay?
Prompt 20: “You don’t seem like yourself tonight.”
He found the Host perched in a chair by the window, face tilted toward the frosty glass as if he could actually watch the snowstorm outside. There was an open book in his lap, but his fingers were still over the pages. If Dr. Iplier didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that the Host was asleep.
“Can I join you?” He asked, speaking quietly so he didn’t startle him.
But the Host didn’t respond, didn’t show any sign that he’d heard the doctor speak. Maybe he actually was asleep.
But then he made a small noise, lifted a hand, pressed it against his forehead as if it hurt.
“You don’t seem like yourself tonight, Host. Are you alright?” Dr. Iplier touched his shoulder, then immediately recoiled.
Heat came off the Host in waves. Heat that the doctor could feel even through the heavy trench coat. And upon further investigation he could see that the Host’s usually pale face was flushed and his lips were cracked and bleeding.
His suspicions were only confirmed when he bent to press his lips to the ego’s clammy forehead and found he was burning up: the Host had a fever. A hot one.
“Oh, Host.” Dr. Iplier hurried to take the book from him, to gently grasp his trembling hands and pull him from the chair. “Come on, you’re going to bed. A cool cloth and a bandage change will help you feel better.”
The Host stumbled a little bit, leaned heavily against him, began to whisper exhausted narrations.
“None of that.” Dr. Iplier scolded him. “Let me guide you for once.”
The Host fell silent, allowing Dr. Iplier to guide him away from his chair and his book and the snow, toward their bedroom, where cool, wet cloths and warm arms awaited.
The Host drops by Dr. Iplier’s clinic for a bandage fix and to ask a favor.
—-
“Wilford Warfstache, would you please sit down for your check up? The faster you let me do what I need to, the faster you can get away from the clinic. I’ve known you too damn long for you to still being pulling this kind of stuff.” Doctor Iplier’s voice entails this is a dispute that’s been going on for a while, and Host has to bite back a laugh. Poor thing always has had a hard time with Wilford. “Doctor, the Host believes he has come at an inopportune moment.” The Host’s voice seems to startle the doctor, who whips around to face the Host with wide eyes. When he finally focuses in on the other ego he lets out a nervous laugh, wringing his hands together as he often does when he’s anxious. When the Host still went by the name Author, the Doctor did far less hand wringing. Perhaps the Host is the one to make him so anxious? Curious. The Host tilts his head to one side and the doctor’s hands finally still.
“Host! No- it’s- well, yes, it is a poor time.” The doctor admits, grimacing as Wilford knocks something over behind them. “I’m sorry, I know I said to just drop by whenever but–” “This is a perfect time, Hosty my boy!” Wilford invites himself abruptly into the conversation, and while Doc could have sworn he had just been by the cabinets he’s suddenly right next to the Host. The Host does not flinch, instead gives Wilford a cold smile until the pink ego moves away a pace. “I was just leaving!” “You were not!” Doctor Iplier tries to insist, but too late. Warfstache is gone. Poor, poor Doctor Iplier, Host tries not to look too amused as he thinks it. The doctor seems to know of his amusement anyway, judging by the look he casts to the other ego.
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” The words were barely audible, but the Host’s head jerked in his direction regardless.
“The Host doesn’t know what Dark is talking about,” he said stiffly, but the way he stood- rigid as stone underneath that trenchcoat he drowned in- and the blood that trickled down his cheeks told Dark volumes.
The entity nodded toward Dr. Iplier’s retreating back. “He will never understand you. He will never understand the power you wield and the world you live in.”
Not like I will. He left that unsaid, but he had a feeling that the Host heard it anyway.
“You love him.” He said instead.
The Host didn’t answer. His jaw clenched.
In that moment, he resembled the Author. Arrogance and hard words and blood-spattered aluminum.
“He will never love you.” The Host undoubtedly knew this. Just as he knew everything.
“Come along.” Dark stepped closer, placed a hand on the Host’s shoulder, steered him back, further into the library. “There are better things for us to be doing.”
The Host made no move to resist or protest. His shoulders slumped, the Author in him disappearing in an instant. He allowed Dark to guide him, despite him being perfectly capable of navigating the library himself.
If Dr. Iplier came back, hours later, tear-stained and sniffling and trying, trying, trying to ignore the guilt that clawed at his insides, he would find nobody. He would find nothing.
He would be too late. Dark would make sure of that.
His vision warped, flickered blue, then green, then red as bits of morse code fell from his lips, punctuated by bursts of static and fragments of words that made no sense.
He couldn’t delete the file. No matter how hard he tried it was still there, embedded into his processor.
Emotionx.exe. Clearly, a virus that had to be expunged from his systems. He was not human. He had no use for emotions.
Blue’s movements jerked and his joints clicked as he punched the nearest wall, not even bothering to pause to take note of the delicate cracks that spiderwebbed out from the point of contact.
“The Host wonders if that is a productive use of Blue’s time.”
“What do you want?” Static-laced words, snarled at the blind man who approached him now. Blue’s eyes shot to the gleaming band on the Host’s ring finger, tamped down on the surge of emotions- jealousy, this time- that threatened to overload his processor.
“Oh,” one side of the Host’s mouth quirked up, “the Host wants a great many things, but what the Host wants is not important at this point in time.”
“The Host is here because of what Blue wants,” he continued, reaching up to place a hand on the android’s shoulder, seeming not at all worried about the risk of losing that hand. He leaned over, lowering his voice, speaking as if they were sharing a closely guarded secret. “Has Blue attempted to talk to Dr. Iplier about how he feels?”
“I don’t feel.” Blue snapped, his form glitching, jerking under the Host’s grip. “I-I-IIII’m not huuUU-u-uman, like you. I don’t dee-AA-al-l with petty emo-o-otions. I do n-OO-oot posse-ess them for the do-OO-ctor.”
The Host tilted his head, patted the android’s shoulder in a way that suggested he’d been expecting Blue to say that. As if he’d seen it coming. “The Host advises Blue to calm himself, and tells him that jealousy will get him nowhere.”
“You believe me, don’t you?” It was suddenly imperative that the Host understand.
“The Host suggests that Blue escort him to the clinic.” The Host said, as if he hadn’t even heard Blue speak. Which was impossible given his nature. His grip tightened on Blue’s shoulder and he began to steer the android toward the door. “The Host requires a bandage change.”
—
“Good to see you, Host.” Dr. Iplier smiled when they entered and got up from his desk to retrieve a fresh roll of bandages from the cabinet. “I expect you need your bandages changed?”
“The doctor assumes correctly.” It was only around the doctor that the Host smiled as warmly as he did now.
Blue paused in the doorway, suddenly uncomfortable, and let the Host leave him behind. He was about to turn and leave, but the Host wasn’t about to let him.
“Blue was kind enough to escort the Host,” he said.
“Oh! Blue.” Dr. Iplier’s eyes flicked away and his cheeks reddened. Then a moment later he was glancing back at him and it was like a jolt of electricity was sent through his systems when he noticed that the way the doctor looked at him- with that soft, dreamy expression- was the exact same way that he looked at the Host. “I didn’t see you there.”
Blue couldn’t help himself: he smiled and stepped further into the clinic.
emptynarration 