Episode: 7.11

--- Ozzy ---

(Why exactly do I keep agreeing to do this busywork?) He couldn’t help but ask himself as for the fourth day in a row he’d left the clinic to take care of some small errand that even he could tell didn’t really need to be taken care of.

(Because you like feeling useful.) A darker part of himself reminded.

“Right…” He ran a hand down his face before looking around, trying to remember where exactly he was. (Damn it the mist is screwing with my head again…)

It was something he’d picked up after bringing the cult thing up to Trish and Maggie. Apparently, the Cult worshiped the mists of Crimson Falls or something, because it had a couple of weird esoteric effects going on, such as its tendency to distort space.

Usually this effect was fairly harmless since it gave people the fun ability of being able to get places in half the time when walking, at least when they knew where they were going. If someone who didn’t know where they were going -such as himself- it tended to have the opposite effect, instead making it harder to get anywhere.

Trish and Maggie had assured him that Sanctuary knew about the mists and had done a whole study on it a decade back when it first started appearing through some rift connected to the nearby lake, and anyone that moved to the Falls was given a packet filled with everything Sanctuary had learned about the mists.

In the end the only real threat it presented was from the Rift itself, which was on an island in the middle of the lake where Sanctuary’s local outpost was based to keep an eye on it.

(Still none of that changes the fact that I’m fucking lost again…)

He shook his head, before once more looking around as he turned down a side street.

“Okay, if I’m not wrong there should be a… park down this street.” He told himself, in an attempt to fill the strange (silence), left behind as the mist’s spatial distortion did… (something) to the noises he now knew the town was making.

As he made his way down the street, he couldn’t help but be unnerved by the way his steps began to echo all around him as if he was the only person left alive, (for lack of a better word.)

Eventually he made it to the park, and despite now having a rough idea of where he was, his unease merely grew as he stared at the fog covered park.

The whole park seemed (wrong) given the lack of playing children on the playscape that was just barely visible as shadowy silhouettes in the fog. A scene that definitely wasn’t helped by the haunting silence that seemed to surround everything.

(Fuck, I feel like I’m in a horror movie…)

“Why does anyone even live here?” He wondered aloud as he passed a set of swings that creaked with both a disturbing volume and length as it swayed in the still wind.

“Most of the town has lived here longer than the mists. Though if the mists are anything like me, I doubt they like letting things leave them either.”

He jumped, moving a fairly surprising distance as he moved away from the voice that appeared from nowhere, his eyes dashing to try and catch sight of its owner.

“Oh, sorry.” The voice apologized, seemingly wrapping all around him as it came from all directions at once. “Forgot who I was talking to for a moment there.”

“What, what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, as he finally managed to spot a silhouette a few paces away from his previous location.

“Mm, my friends are a little more used to the whole everywhere and nowhere thing.” The voice explained, as the figure shrugged.

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much if I could actually see you.” He pointed out with a glare.

“Ah, right, right. Sorry, but despite what most people think the Mists aren’t really a part of my domain.” The voice told him as the figure grew closer. “So, they tend to throw me off a bit whenever I do get involved with them.”

“Is that so-” He swallowed as the figure stepped into his range and he caught sight of a fairly (haunting) young woman.

“Yeah, trust me it causes all sorts of issues especially since Gaslight, likes to push against that border so much.” The black-haired woman elaborated, her annoyance clear on her pale face, before smiling as she turned two starlight silver eyes onto him. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?” He asked, unable to take his eyes off the young lady that sent a strange cool warmth pulsating through his chest. (It’s almost like I’m alive again…)

“Oh, I like to check in with everyone, every now and then.” The lady explained as she made her way to a nearby park bench. “After all, people have such interesting stories to tell in the end.”

“What…” He frowned, trying to decipher whatever that meant, before deciding just to ask, “What does that mean?”

“Eh, you’ll figure it out eventually.” The woman assured him with a smile as she took a seat. “Everyone always does.”

(Well, that’s not ominous at all…)

“Still, how are you holding up?” The woman wondered aloud. “I know it tends to be a rough transition for everyone.”

He glanced around a bit, still a little confused by the way this woman was acting. “I’m… alright, I guess.”

The lady gave him a pout. “You don’t have to lie to me, right? I accept everyone as they are.”

He shook his head. “I’m not… lying?”

The woman gave him a look before shaking her head. “Yeah, figured you wouldn’t be doing alright. Yours was particularly messy all things considered…” The woman grew a thoughtful frown. “Needlessly complex too, now that I think about it.”

“My what exactly?” He had to ask, because honestly (I have no idea what we’re talking about.)

“Hmm…” The woman narrowed her eyes at him while tapping her lips. “You like to ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

(Maybe if you started making sense I wouldn’t have to.) He thought a little bitterly.

“Yeah, I do.” He admitted instead. “My mom was a scientist once upon a time.”

“Ooh, that sounds like a story!” The woman clapped, before stilling. “Oh, but that’s her story to tell isn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked unable to suppress the glare that worked its way onto his face at the thought of some random (crazy) trying to track down his mother.

“Again, with the questions.” The woman sighed, before patting her jeans and hopping to her feet. “You know what? I’m going to do you a favor.”

His face scrunched up in pained confusion. “What? Why?”

“That’s why.” The woman explained pointing at him. “You’ve done nothing but ask questions since we met here. Haven’t even told me anything new about your story.”

“What story?!” He pleaded, as a migraine began to build in the back of his head.

“Now I can’t help you -wouldn’t be fair to all the others- but I can twist things so you run into someone who can help you. The question is who?” The woman crossed her arms behind her head as she began to think about who knows what.

(I’m starting to wonder if this is what it’s like dealing with a Madness user…) Given what little he knew about Madness users, it might’ve actually explained a few things.

“Oh.” The woman snapped her fingers. “That’s not a bad idea actually. Maybe not as helpful as it could be, but it would definitely make things more interesting.”

“Interesting how?” He couldn’t help but ask warily, despite already knowing how futile it was.

“You and your questions.” The lady laughed as she pat his cheek, an action that he was too emotionally exhausted to care about. “Don’t worry you’ll meet someone who can give you some help soon enough.”

He ran a hand down his face, not bothering with a response that in all likelihood would end up ignored.

“That said,” The woman began as straightened out her white blouse and black vest, “Once you’re a bit more put together, we really must do this again. Though next time you'll have to give me all the details.”

With that as her apparent goodbye, the pale lady turned and disappeared as walked into the mists, humming a (hauntingly beautiful) tune.

(…)

He spent a solid minute rubbing at his temple, desperately trying to push through his newfound migraine, before eventually shaking his head in resignation.

“That was… weird…”