Michael starred back with dead eyes. Flat eyes like the fish that Shawn used to see at the supermarket in Milwaukee. It was almost as if the boy was looking through Shawn to the other side of the smoldering shed.

He didn't say anything in response to Shawn's question.

"I do not know!" Feddler advised in loud frustration. "Use the Liar's Goblet. I do not know the results. I said I thought but I am not sure. How could I know? We've never done these things together. And while I know how to do things better at times, I do not know the core you are made of and how willing you are to sacrifice or to make sacrifices. Use it by all means. My thoughts are just based on reading these memories. I have knowledge beyond them, but most of its application is the result of actions that you have yet to take and forgotten knowledge that I am just starting to remember in this new environment."

"The Liar's Goblet will likely work in some fashion, just like this...." And Feddler read the memory of Shawn with Little Stone.

"But really, this is a very, very old artifact. I would use both the Liar's Goblet and the card tick together. Perhaps with some sort of sacrifice. We could probably do that. That I think is possible. How many times? It might depend on the person. It might also depend on the nature of what we offer. It might depend on my ability to remember certain details. But it is not impossible. Far from it. We would just need space and time. A place to prepare without being disturbed. Some ingredients. Something to sacrifice. And someone close. At this time, the person you would convince would need to be near. I say all of this but be advised: I am still waking from within you. I do not have all of the answers. You are as much a part of this knowledge as I am."

Shawn returned Michael's gaze evenly. He might have been nervous if it were another kid, but he knew it was unlikely that Michael was shocked or outraged. Once he was done thinking, Michael would tell him what he thought of Shawn's proposal.

Shawn wasn't entirely sure about combining artifacts into another ritual - the last one hadn't gone great, and this one would be probably taking place in his house. He tried to order his thoughts to make it easier for Feddler to pick up on his reasoning. Maybe we don't need the Goblet right away. Look, I like Bobby and Ralph enough that I'm risking my life to go after Bradford and save them. The card trick makes people like me more. Can I just use the card trick on someone until they like me that much? Or maybe a little more just to be safe? Then I might not even need the Goblet, I could just ask them normally...

Michael just kept staring. He observed Shawn more than anything else. Then he said

"I used to have a friend that used to look around the forest with me for cool stuff."

Meanwhile, Feddler was busy in Shawn's own head, trying to dialogue about the way forward. He shifted uncomfortably in the side of Shawn's head, and Shawn himself felt a uncomfortable, unbalanced physical feeling for just a moment. Then Feddler related his assessment with a tone of disappointment.

"I do not know if any of these ideas will work. Practice of the Occult is not something that can be easily grasped. And certainly not without risk. I would know more if we had time to practice. Or if we had taken or decide to take steps in that direction. I do not think I can answer in a positive or negative way to the questions you ask. I am just speculating on what could be."

"Having said that, we are are desperate. I am desperate. If Bradford kills you, he will kill me. And I do not want to die!"

Shawn didn't quite see how what Michael said connected with what he'd asked, but he trusted there was some relation that Shawn just didn't quite see. "What's your friend's name? Would I know them?"

All right, we should go back to the party and get Junior. He already likes me, so I'll take him up to my room and practice the card trick - maybe it'll jog your memory or give you an idea of how we could use it. You've got to try and remember as much as you can... Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the ritual, or just exhaustion, but Shawn found himself more willing to be ruthless when considering what to do next. Junior had been nothing but nice to him, but Shawn was thinking of him like a resource he had to spend.

"No." Michael said back to Shawn in his characteristic deep voice. "You wouldn't know him. He's gone now. He's in the juvenile facility for kids." Then he shrugged his shoulders as if that was all there was to say on the topic.

"The card trick...." Feddler said, as if fishing around for memories in the filing cabinets. Shawn got the sense that Feddler wasn't as familiar with what happened to ...Rufus. Then Feddler grasped the memory of Shawn playing the card trick with ....Rufus and how how Griffix had shown him how to use the cards, the first, and perhaps the only thing that Griffix had shared of mystical knowledge before...

"Before he died." Feddler finished the thought. "He's dead now, you know that don't you? Bradford killed him. Or Mr. Clayton. Either one of them killed Griffix. I'm not sure which." Feddler turned the memory around in Shawn's head and watched as what happened to Eddy happened to him.

"Interesting....."

“That’s too bad. The more people who’d be willing to help us the better.” Shawn was focusing on their survival, and he was glad Michael didn’t need too much sugar coating. “So, do you think you can find some weapons? I think I might be able to find more people to help us.”

Shawn could feel Feddler going through his memories. They weren’t pleasant to relive, but he tried to focus only on what would help beat Bradford. Do you think we can use that? I never really saw what it could do with Eddy, since he went into a coma. Is that something you know enough to help with? If we could make Junior and Anthony like me enough to kill Bradford for me without making another Rufus?

Michael's face was a mask of stone. Light from the moon illuminated the angular parts of his high cheeks, eyes dark in the hollows of his face.

He just shrugged and didn't say anything. Not indicating if he knew of weapons or not. Or even if he could find them. He just stared at Shawn. The same way he had stared for a long while in the forest in the darkness.

"Weapons." He said finally, indicating in his tone that such an idea was feasible. "Like, what kind of weapons?" He asked, voice flat amid the sizzling embers of the burned shed.

Feddler meanwhile was still rummaging through the filing cabinets, while at the same time trying to elaborate on his knowledge of the Occult and explaining to Shawn how it is practiced.

"I do not have the answers to those questions. It is a connection that we seek. An art that we must practice. Does the fire know where it will burn? You are both a chef and an ingredient in the act of any dark ritual." Feddler explained.

"You cannot consider yourself an observer of a mechanical action. What you ask for cannot be explained in a formula or something that can be predicted or a thought of in the way you have asked me."

"This is hard to explain." And Shawn felt the Imp sigh.

"Just the idea that you have selected out something as important means that you have influenced it in some way. You have chosen to select it apart from other things that you might have considered. So you have already placed a piece of yourself in that thing that you have selected. Now, everything around that thing that you have selected will appear to you as you experience it as either as something that will help you, hinder you, or something that is irrelevant to you."

"Do you understand?" Feddler asked, hopefully. "Tell me if you do not. But remember..." he said to Shawn with a wry smile, as he looked upon a Giant filing cabinet that read 'White Lies' in Shawn's mind. "There is no point in lying to me. I am inside of you. You and I are bound now. And it appears will will be that way for some time."

Shawn nodded reassuringly, like he was expecting a question like that. "Something sharp? Like a kitchen knife or a sharpened screwdriver?"

Shawn wasn't entirely sure about what Feddler was saying - he tried to break down what the imp meant in terms of what he should actually do. So...even choosing to use the cards is part of whatever dark ritual I end up doing? So I need to connect with it? Since we are bound, does that mean you can help me pick out things that'll help or hinder me?

"Sharp." Michael repeated dully. "A kitchen knife is sharp." He elaborated. "The screwdriver is in the shed. The shed is burned down." 

He stood there unmoving like some kind of statue. Perhaps he was waiting to say more. Or perhaps he was waiting for Shawn to say more.

"Hmmmmm." Feddler mused and Shawn could feel the Imp put some spectacles on the edge of his pointed nose, wings flapping to the side like a paper wasp. "Perhaps at this time it would be easier to say that I do not know what will help you. I see we have much practice to do, even to communicate how complicated these things are."

"We must take things one step at a time. To rush in any dark ritual at this time would reduce the chance of success. And it would increase the chance of something bad happening that does not meet your goal. But I must say, that I am worried. Worried that the time required to get these things correct is not necessarily time that we have."

"What do you think about this? What is the plan?" Feddler asked, deferring the decision to Shawn.

Shawn nodded. "So, you should find some sharp weapons to use to defend ourselves while I go back to the party and find some other people to help us. And then we meet back at where we found the body."

Shawn tried to think resolute thoughts, more to convince himself than Feddler. I think we go back to the party and see if the cards are enough to work with Junior. If they do, we try to get Anthony and maybe someone else to help as well. If not...we'll improvise from there. You just keep trying to remember more magic stuff in the meantime, okay?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:16, Sun 07 Apr 2019.

Michael stared for a few seconds. Then he simply turned around and headed towards his house, working his way up the hill through the low hanging smog, the smell of the burned-out shed still thick in the air.

Meanwhile, Feddler consumed what Shawn was saying. Shawn felt that Imp largely agreed with him. Then Shawn felt Feddler seize on the phrase 'try to remember' and that's when Shawn felt Feddler's anger well up. The Imp tried to control the anger, and managed to do so with surprising quickness. Instead of yelling, the Imp spoke in a firm voice, as it gained control over his emotions.

"Look." Feddler said. And intially it sounded like the phrase that someone would use to 'tell someone off' or 'give someone a piece of my mind' as Shawn's Mom was fond of saying.

But then Shawn felt the same feeling that one feels when they have a 'bright idea.' But instead of a bright idea, like a light bulb lighting in Shawn's head, Shawn felt a dim, 18th century lantern light up in his head. Then it became apparent that Feddler wasn't telling Shawn off, but actually wanted Shawn to 'Look.' To look inside of Shawn's own head, using the lantern that Feddler was holding to cast light on things.

"I need to see parts of you to 'remember' these things. To practice occult. This is what I am dealing with." Feddler explained.

It was a cramped room. Sure, there were rows of filing cabinets that showed some organization. The light moved across and Feddler walked down a narrow row that led into the darkness. After a few moments, Feddler stopped at a door. A large vault door with a strange wheel-lock, combination dial. The Imp raised his skinny, pink arm, long fingers and longer, sharper fingernails holding up the black lantern.

The flicking flames cast light on the vault door. There were letters that were engraved into the old, cast-iron metal. It read 'WHITE LIES.'

"This vault door is always here. I cannot pass. So these are areas that I cannot access in your mind. See how big the door is? How thick it is? That means that its contents are well guarded. It has now taken on its own form of reality."

Feddler approached the door and Shawn could see that there was a slot in the door. A small hole big enough to peer through. Feddler cast light on the hole. "Sometimes something will pass through there in the hall and I can catch a glimpse of it. That's when I can advise you of something. It's a small truth, wandering through the halls. Sometimes its a WHITE LIE itself. Either way, I try to deduce that and then research the memories. Then I use my Occult knowledge to advise us. To advise you."

Feddler turned the lantern away. The Imp moved through the cramped row of filing cabinets again and then abruptly stopped. The lantern swung around and then to the right. There was another, much larger vault door. A huge thing. It hadn't been there before. It was enormous and towering. It looked like the kind of vault buried deep in a secret government facility in the early 20th century. Gray thick bolts against the backdrop of thick, black-painted steel. "The location of this vault constantly moves. It can never be found in the same location. Obviously, I do not have access to it. I have drilled a hole into it. Sometimes to peer through it. To look into it. One time I saw something move inside. But every time the vault moves, the hole disappears. I cannot access this part of your mind either." Feddler raised the lantern, the dancing flame illuminated the large engraved letters 'LIES I TELL OTHERS'

"But there is one more door that I know exists. It prevents me from accessing the parts of you necessary to give you answers to the information you seek. It avoids me. It sees me coming and it changes its location according to my movements. I have never seen it. But my knowledge tells me that it exists. It is called 'LIES I TELL MYSELF.'

Shawn waited a few seconds to make sure Michael was heading in the right direction, and then started to head back to his own party. Before he did, though, he doused a bit of the shed in water, then picked up a pinch of the shed's ashes and pocketed it. Maybe it had picked up some magic from the ritual and would come in handy.

As he walked back, he listened to to Feddler's explanation. It was strange to think of his brain containing all of that, but it was definitely how Feddler seemed to interact with him. I'm not sure how I can help you find it - is there a way to let you in? If I told myself a lie, could you follow it? The thought made him uncomfortable, Feddler seeing what would be in that vault. But he tried to reassure himself that the imp was basically part of him now and could be trusted - ironically, a lie he was telling himself!

In the meantime, he kept trying to think about things in terms of what would help or hinder what he was trying to do. Oh wait, I remember something. Griffix said how you look makes you better at the card trick. I guess it distracts them or makes them want to like you more. Dunno how to use that, though, unless you've got a way to make me look better.

Shawn spoke to Feddler in his own mind. Feddler tried to explain to him that Feddler couldn't tell what was a lie and what wasn't a lie sometimes. According to the Imp, this was an indication that Shawn himself might not be able to discern the difference in all circumstances.

The Imp went on to explain that the depth and frequency of Shawn's lies had changed Shawn's perception of what was true.

The problem, as the Imp explained it, was that Feddler needed access to broader parts of Shawn, in order to make Shawn's essence into part of the ritual. If the ritual was made of a lie, or part of a lie, the results of the rituals could be drastically changed.

"It's like a long ball of yarn in here that has been twisted and wound into a hundreds of knots." Feddler finished. "So you see, the fixing of it is not something that can just be remembered or rushed into. At this stage, we cannot tell if a single thread will lead to another not, or something that is loose, free and untangled."

Shawn contemplated that - he didn't feel like he had any difficulty telling what was true just because he told lies. If anything, wouldn't it make him better at telling when people were lying. Still, he tried to focus on practical stuff. What if...I tried to think of something important about myself that's definitely true? Could you follow that to whatever my essence is?

Now it was Feddler's time to think.

"I..." the Imp stammered, taking a moment to sort Shawn's thoughts out. It was a long moment. A strange feeling buzzed through Shawn's mind. Like Feddler was weighing the possibilities. Tugging at those strands and threads. Touching the knots that he had spoken of. Pulling at the fabrics and the webs of lies interspersed with truth and vice versa.

"No." He finally answered.

"I cannot. I cannot do it because in the end, I do not know you. Not really. I came to destroy you. I was sent to destroy you. When you played the numbers game. And then I was destroyed and placed in you. Now I am with you. I am not saying it will not work one day. But during this time, I have not really learned of you."

"Other than that you are liar. And that Bradford is out to destroy us."

The statement was made without judgement. And Shawn knew that if the words stung, then the Imp was stating them without the malice intention of doing so. And if they didn't sting Shawn, the same fact could be applied. Shawn knew this because Feddler offered to Shawn the chance to view the Imp's own mind to show Shawn a glimpse into Feddler's own deeds.

Just a taste.

Shawn could tell the gesture was not without risk. just viewing the Imp's mind might cause Shawn harm. Being both a demon and an imp, it was clear that Feddler had been involved in some dark work.

OOC: Shawn decides if he will take a glimpse into Feddler's own mind, or not

It was kinda weird how Shawn was slowly getting used to hearing monologues or even another set of emotions doing things in his head, but that was what was happening. Oh, the numbers game, I had forgotten...maybe that'll be my backup plan... After a moment or two to weigh the possibilities, Shawn mentally accepted the Feddler's invitation to see his memories. Even if they were bad things, he trusted in Feddler's self-interest; the demon wouldn't want to hurt him, since it'd make confronting Bradford even more risky. And maybe if he experienced some of what Feddler did, that'd help him understand the weird dark magic he was involved in.

There was no response to Shawn's thoughts. But Shawn could equally tell that Feddler had drifted to the side. Or receded into the back of his head with a light 'fluff' sound. It was like the sound of something hitting a pillow.

The forest had gone dark. And there was a smell about that Shawn hadn't noticed before. Sweetness, was it? Tang. Like pennies.

Images began to surface the way they do when kids are day dreaming. But instead of a concentrating, whimsical feeling, there was a sinking, low feeling. The kind of feeling that a kid gets when he's about to be caught doing something really really bad by his parents.

Then an image began to appear. Less of an image and more of a thought. Because Shawn was still in the forest. The thought floated to the surface like a bloated bubble in Shawn's mind. It popped and Shawn began to understand, with growing clarity, the very nature of the thought.

A black crow sat on a stump, its clawed feet splayed, nails curled over the side as its beak jabbed, jabbed at something wet and moist, pulling back a bit of flesh as its head quickly turned to one side.

Shawn kept walking even as he experienced the thought - part of it was knowing time was of the essence, but the other was thinking that if maybe things got too scary, he could concentrate on the real world that was in front of him.

Shawn could sense for a brief moment Feddler's own feelings as the image of the crow faded against a backdrop of blackness. Feddler's condition could be summed up in a drop of blood. Show Feddler a teaspoon of blood and it would reveal to him the ineffable nature of the cosmos, naked and squirming. Squirming. And Feddler felt it was funny how the truth always seems to do that when you shine a light on it.

Blackness.

That was all that Shawn saw now.

A few seconds later another image was coming out from the black void. Before it came into focus, Shawn's ear was split by a killing sound, crackling like a busted radio speaker and ringing with good old tinnitus. The sensation was that of an auger boring through membrane and meat. Shawn's back and left knee ached. The image faded back into the darkness.

The long-healed slash that Shawn had suffered at one time running away from the Clowns. Was it his back? Something burned with the fury of a fresh wound. And Shawn felt the seam from where he had cut his forearm just a few moments ago. The skin was pulling apart, the wound a weeping invitation as it bloomed. All those forgotten or ignored wounds blooming in a chorus of ghostly pain, reminders of longstanding debts, reminders that a boy can’t always outrun provenance. Sometimes it outruns him.

Behind the blackness, in what Shawn thought might have been the forest he may have still been in, for Shawn could no longer see anything but blackness....

A hunting horn sounded far out there in the darkness beyond the humps and swales and tree drumlins that went on basically forever, past the vast foliage that had swallowed the neighborhood homes.

Not simply a horn, but one that could easily be imagined as the hollowed relic from a giant, perverted ram with blood-specked foam lathering its muzzle and hellfire beaming from its eyes. A ram that crunched the bones of Saxons for breakfast and brandished a cock the girth of a wagon axle; the kind of brute that tribes sacrificed babies to when crops were bad and mated unfortunate maidens to when the chief needed some special juju on the eve of a war. Its horn was the sort of artifact that stood on end in a petrified coil and would require a brawny Viking raider to lift. Or a demon.

The horn sounded the call of a demon-song.

And Shawn fell into that call, now completely ensconced in the imagery and sensation of hot blood and darkness. And inner collapse into the recesses of Feddler's mind and Shawn's own. An exploration that was as deep and profound as anything he had ever experienced. Only this time, it was not only his own experience.

It was also Feddler's experience.

Shawn tried to keep up with the imagery of blood, of wounds, of truth. It left him feeling vulnerable and exposed, unsure of who or what was coming next. He braced himself for an insight into Feddler's nature, or at least his experience.

There was a deep welling in Shawn's stomach that seemed to indicate that something was about to happen. A feeling in the pit of his bowels. Shawn knew that he was close to understanding something that Feddler wanted him to know. Something that might bring them just a step closer. Perhaps something that would make Shawn understand Feddler and Feddler understand Shawn. Maybe it would be enough to do something with at some point.

But before Shawn could continue, he felt that there might be a price to be paid for such knowledge.

OOC: Shawn chooses one of the following -

1) Shawn decides not to try to learn about Feddler

Or

2) Shawn decides to learn about Feddler. Shawn gains 'Trigger' Self-Destruction — Lying. Every time Shawn lies, he does something small to hurt himself.

Characters with the Self-Destruction trigger find themselves overwhelmed with the desire to cause harm to themselves whenever their trigger is activated. This can manifest as cutting, punching or hitting, burning, picking at wounds or sutures, self-biting, poking or stabbing, or ingesting harmful items or substances. It should be noted that this trigger is not suicidal in nature

Shawn wanted to learn more about the imp that had taken residence inside of him...but he couldn't. The price seemed too dangerous, too high, and he was afraid. Maybe he would be able to do it later, when they were out of immediate danger, but right now he couldn't handle it.

There was a burning sensation. But it was not the open wound that Shawn had felt in his arm. Instead, it wast the burning of Feddler's resentment. This was the feeling that Shawn felt.

And Feddler had no reason to hide it.

It was a feeling of betrayal. It was a feeling of rejection. It was the look that Ralph had when Bobby used to tell him that he couldn't include him in his things. Or when Bobby would intentionally exclude Ralph on account of him being to little. It was that look in Ralph's face. The look of being rejected.

This time though, it wasn't Ralph's feelings that had been rejected. It was Feddler's feelings. It was his invitation to Shawn. And, as a consequence, it was the sensation that Feddler was both hurt and dissapointed.

But that feeling quickly was replaced with anger. Anger at Shawn for the rejection. A feeling that Feddler had, in fact, tried to show Shawn the way. The way towards closeness between them. A feeling that Feddler had tried to resolve something at Shawn's request. And that Shawn had rejected that after asking for it.

Justified or not, this was the feeling Feddler felt.

And so Feddler screamed "Don't ask me for anything!! You fool! I hope Bobby and Ralph die!" And then Shawn heard the 'fluff' of the lantern being blown out.

Everything inside went dark. All communication with Feddler had silenced.

Shawn immediately regretted his decision as he felt Feddler’s rejection - he hadn’t realized how personally the imp would take it. And feeling that rejection, feeling how it hurt Feddler...it was exactly the kind of feeling he’d always tried to avoid. That’s why he always acted so nice and agreeable, why he always lied and told people what they wanted to hear. He’d disappointed Feddler, and he hated knowing that. I’m sorry. He wanted to apologize, but the silence in his head told him that wasn’t enough. All he could do was hope Feddler tuned back in and could see how much he regretted turning him down.

With nothing else to do, he trudged on back home.

OOC: Shawn Joins Thread

Shawn: The Day Before School And Something Is Wrong