Chapter Text
It was the familiar, subtle shift of darkness, the pull from the ethereal realm, a tantalizing thirst that met to him, drawing at the seams of his existence. His realm, his abode was more of a metaphorical than actual, an endless stretch of countless books, a library of absolute knowledge, a visual representation of the endless eons across endless space across the vast of every reality that lay there inside him, spread out here where he remained, all to be seen. Always studious in seeking more, always studious in placing more tomes in this place. More books, more graphs, more knowledge. He had been at the spark of a fireplace, on an old chair reading through such a book as the call came to him.
Stanford could choose to leave this place and answer or ignore any call he desired, any inkling, any itch that came to him from those who truly desired his presence and had the books and tomes needed to assist in bringing him out. As it stood very, very few did. He was known to have a slight temper and disregard for moral character that seemed more by his nature than anything malicious. It made him somewhat unpredictable for the mortal world to deal with at times.
Still, it was a thirst, a seeking of answers that drew to him, to his nature, that caused him to pull himself forward toward its source. When such an authentic desire was present, in and by his nature, he felt honor bound to answer. To share his wisdom. Or perhaps to learn more himself. Much of the time countless civilizations offered rare tomes of knowledge or scarce scientific resources in exchange for his help. Many worshiped him, combing the ends of the earth for something valuable, something ancient, something worthwhile. But those days had long passed.
In this day and age, it was a rare thing, a lost thing, all of that. As it was, besides a few here and there across the generations, it seemed only Mason Pines and Bill Cipher were of much consequence to the time otherwise spent devouring any and all information he could get his weaving threads and shadowed hands on and the eons reading through old tomes or perhaps attempting to find other demons to play a whirl at his favorite game (D, D, and more D, naturally).
And even before he’d arrived, he knew immediately who had been the one to summon him. And felt a heavy sigh against his form as, even more than Dipper, the boy seemed keen on having him around for reasons that were...well beyond him. Even for such a demon with great knowledge it was lost on him.
“Bill Cipher…” A flash of a yellow triangle glowed, hovering above the dozens of floating eyes, a simple symbol that came and went as his form surged out, tall shadows of unworldly design from the book placed below, into the scope of the mortal plane. “This is getting...tiresome. What is it you wish to know?”
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Bill Cipher.
A name most knew in the secluded town, attaching itself onto a decent looking man who had all too many screws loosened; a name that was banned from various states, yet birthed from a wealthy family nobody knew the whereabouts of, only the remnants of ring encrusted hands and luxurious suits in spite of his unemployment. Most assumed they passed away. Others were naturally under the assumption of them being murdered, as the man tended to isolate himself in his studies. A charmer, as it was, not at all socially inept even with the periods he rarely left his home. Some claimed to hear him chatting with himself, perhaps someone else trapped within the walls, scared, unable to free themselves.
As it were, it could be disputed as he stood before a demon, right in the middle of his living room with welcoming smile. An expression only reserved for things of such a nature. “Can I get a hey?” Bill asked, amusement dancing in the tone. “A hello? How are you? I thought we were becoming friends, Ford.”
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Ford’s form was always alive in its own way, a swath of teaming ropes, threads, shadows, and slithering movement as if the clothes and sweater he wore were somehow impossibly and darkly conscious on their own. He sighed, pinching at the bridge of his more human nose with a few threads of his moving hand beneath a pair of glasses before looking back to fully observe the eccentric human he’d come to relate with his life, even the vast of floating eyes among his static of black having a somewhat exasperated expression there. Not that it was true to his real feelings on the matter, but...all the same.
Because it was true, there was more intrigue in Cipher than perhaps Dipper (Mason) Pines or others in all the millennia that spanned to demand his attention. Cipher was intriguing in a way that had not engaged him in...well, really far beyond his reaches of memory, far beyond the reaches of pages of tomes and endless conquest. It was one reason he found himself drawn consistently to return to his calls where as with other less fortunates he may ignore or outright breed chaos there, destroying their rather dismal, dim, dull lives at the tediousness of it all. This sort of destruction moreover was in his nature, rather than anything personal or enjoyed.
His only revealing of his interest in the boy (as everything in millennia seemed to be “boy” compared to him) was simply the fact he “endured” hours upon hours with the human and continued to come whenever a summon was cast. Otherwise one may think him truly exasperated by the other.
“...Bill. I am an infinite demon of a vast reservoir of knowledge and ancient wisdom...I warn you concepts such as friendship are well beyond me.” He stated idly. Which...was mostly true. At least in its own way and in its own definition, in a way that you couldn’t compare a demon to a mortal for instance, or the concepts between them as anything so neatly colored in, so black and white when you analyzed it all.
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“Is it?” Bill’s smile twitched, if only a little as he observed the creature before him. There’s notes and journals scattered amongst the coffee table, stains from imported wines soaked into the corners with pens and pencils clustered together. He made himself comfortable on the couch, patting his pockets, feeling for the outline as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, chest the warmest it’s ever been.
Every meeting started this way. At some point he began to believe the creature was the sole reason he awoke in the mornings. A lovely, very warm feeling that blossomed throughout his chest, enough to bring back some of his own humanity.
“I would have never guessed,” he continued smoothly, the briefest flick of a fire lighting the stem between his teeth. “Aside from me attempting to both become your friend and future lover, I have summoned you for an actual reason. The date can be postponed, I’m afraid. I know how much it kills you inside.”
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He looked at the other blatantly. “...Indeed.” He replied dully, really the only response that the human would gain from the comments. There wasn’t typically much otherwise to be said for these constant stream of strangely flirtatious jibes. He could...well, tell the sort of effect he had on the mortal. Ford had been many things over the millennia. Worshiped. Revered. Many humans had even tried to entrap him, bind him down to their own demise, or sell their souls for certain subjects of wisdom or lore that seemed beyond all reach. But certainly, flirtatious or romantic gestures had...never really come into the equation before. It was...interesting. And definitely new.
Still, whatever Bill Cipher may have in mind was intriguing enough in itself to draw him from such eccentric words. With a swath of shadows, the root of which still connected to the book he’d been summoned from, a containment of sorts from which he was always bound, Ford slid forward toward the other. A long streak of shadow still bled behind him to connect him to that page as he went. “And what exactly would that be, Cipher?” A slithering stream of shadow made to adjust his glasses in the flickering firelight, looking to peer at the array of works and books spread across the room.
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Most of the work consisted of notes regarding the inhabitants of Gravity Falls, down from thorough sketches of strange anatomy, to town folk, their secrets and oddities that outshined the hick life present. That in itself was a separate segment, unfinished until he simply bothered furthering the investigation.
“The continuous streak of boredom that plagues my very soul,” Bill explained, a cloud of smoke slipping past his lips as he gestured dramatically into the air. “This town is hitting the expiration date, just like the rest. Most interesting thing I discovered here was you, a rainbow vomiting gnome coming into second. I need to expand my potential. Get what I’m saying here? Reality bending. Time travel. ”
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Dozens of different tendrils wormed their way around every paper, every leaflet, every ounce of information, each of his many eyes floating around his head to take them in with a second’s glance. Dull. Very dull. Boring things indeed. Most of these towns folks weren’t worth mentioning. Even for mortals, the blip of their existence consistently remained...flat. Unworth noting.
The creatures and oddities of this town did cause some manner of intrigue. They were unique and often held properties that could, on a rare moment, catch his intrigue. Far more than most of the rest of the world and its dull landscapes and repetitive civilizations.
The eyes at his human face behind his spectacles glanced up, studying the other while he allowed the flurry of papers and books to be abandoned to the ground in a flourish of disinterest, the rest of his eyes following to meet Bill with some amount of vague curiosity. “Time travel…” He mused, and above his head a series of images flashes by, as if he were flipping through a virtual book, all the way from time agents, the time tape they utilized, an apocalyptic waste land, to time baby, all the way back to Einstein.
The series of rapid images faded, disappearing as he collected all he knew on the subject. “You understand I cannot help you with “boredom,” however….” He let in a hiss of air, “I...can...well, empathize with you. Often this stretch of expanse can get tedious...and I don’t welcome it.” If he were honest, there was nothing worse for Stanford than those listless shackles of boredom. As a demon, he had eternity. And eternity meant...certain rough patches. Boredom in itself was worse even than the insults, the dim witted, the poor minds of normality. It was worse than being scorned, captured, taunted, or undermined. Worse than...much of anything in his view point actually.
After all boredom was the lack of knowledge, the lack of pursuit, a space you remained trapped and secluded in and often it’s only escape was to the vast universe at large, something new and intriguing. Were at enticing prizes of knowledge, of understanding, things of the unknown. He could relate, if nothing else, and leaned back, placing a hand beneath his chin.
“What exactly could you gain from this...particularly information? I suppose you wish to do it, to travel in time?” He tilted his head, as if a teacher considering a pupil, analyzing him.
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“A hands-on experience, if you will.” A jab at the past, to twist and bend his reality as he preferred. While it was newer, far more dangerous territory, Bill wasn’t ignorant of the potential changes that could occur. Some for the worst. Some for the better. A gamble. “See, I’m going to die. Pretty tragic, right? You know that. I’ll grow old, get health complications knowing my family’s track record, and eventually I’ll have to settle down and find someone to pop out my offspring to pass on my bloodline.”
Bill spoke like he wasn’t human. Rather, someone forever trapped within a cycle he couldn’t escape from. The human lifespan was cold. Short. Insignificant amongst the world. Two generations later and he’ll be forgotten, left in the dirt to forever rot with the rest. “I’m not only after the knowledge of different points in time, but the experience. I suppose you can refer to it as a introduction to dimension hopping, if you ever gave me the chance.”
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Stanford considered there for a moment, the slithering movements of his body shifting like snakes, signalling the only change in the pause apart from the flickering firelight. Before finally, the demon tilted his head, surveying Bill closely. “Hmmm. And what would give me in return for such information?” Ideally, for something this grand, he’d prefer some exchange. Ford wasn’t above teaching those who sought to learn simply as a part of his nature, nor guiding them on the correct educated path to reach it. It was a certain thing he felt...almost compelled, bound to do. As if to bring others under his wing, under a path he’d well worn, under what was, essentially, the very essence of his nature was somehow...necessary. He held a certain bond for those few who truly sought the unreachable. Who sought to go unraveling the intricacies of the cosmos itself.
Yet for many occasions, particularly grander pieces of knowledge, he preferred a trade. He was well aware of how knowledge was precious...and as was his time, his efforts, his wisdom. To not offer at least some testament, some glimpse of worthwhile lore, art, mythos, or scientific quandary was...rude, some might say. Disrespectful. You do not call a deity of his weight forth without something there to greet him, even just as a sign of that respect.
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After a few drags, Bill crushed the bud into an ashtray with disinterest. Even nicotine hadn’t simmered his nerves, if only making it worse from the recent gloom of lacking in achievements. By this point his peak would be his early twenties, right when he arrived at this town, managing to befriend a child that led to this demon here. Not the best point to retire at, or get lazy in his efforts. Immortality could have been a request as well, but realistically speaking, that too would grow to be dull as he witnessed everything die. By then, relationships and connections surely would lose all value. No need for that torture.
“Depends on what you want,” he replied, meeting Ford’s eyes as he pushed forward. “Would you like my soul? That’s a thing you guys do, isn’t it? Devouring souls?” A little too much of television happened to mix with factual information pertaining to demons. It was up in the air. “I’d happily give you my hand in marriage, if you preferred that. I surely do!”
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“You know the kinds of things I seek, Cipher.” He stated in some manner of finality, the shifting of his shadows becoming perhaps a little livelier at the conversation and the ideas that chanced behind it. “Knowledge. Wisdom. Rare and valuable ideas that have yet to remain in my tomes.” It was a very large feat to find such artifacts, but not impossible or unheard of. He’d had those in service of him go so far as to procure tomes of Atlantis before it sank into the depth of the oceans, retrieve rare and insightful pieces from the Library of Alexandria after it had been ravaged and burned. Even small poets that never made it large, but who truly had the gift, and small ideas too, mythos and stories, art and intricate paintings. Works of lore and discoveries of certain elements of unknown that Ford had yet to study.
Ford himself knew the value, the power of real knowledge. Knew it’s inherent risks, it’s inherent place as the most formidable, most prized possession of all. And his libraries of it were rivaled by almost no other.
“And while some lesser demons may be interested in such things, I have never been. Souls certainly have no value to me personally.” He dismissed. To him, a being’s own value of life was their own. How they spent it. What they did with it. It was their right and their responsibility to pursue these paths of knowledge, not Ford’s. Souls were, in his mind, almost...bound to the beings who owned them, just by principle. Anything less was insulting. Almost disrespectful in its own way. Demons who toyed with such things in his mind were to be disregarded and looked down on. They were breaking some fundamental character, some fundamental place in this life that Ford found a distaste for.
He again gave the other a studying expression however, frowning as he moved forward. Again with that...oddly simplistic, mystifying human proposal of romance. Perhaps Bill’s eccentricities were one of the reasons he actually seemed so intrigued in the other though. That and his clear connected path to discover, to reach for the unreachable depths of understanding. He found a certain...enticing element to the creature in that way. “I am a being of the infinite, a cosmic span of darkness and the festering energies of the nether and unseen. I do not believe it possible to…” He made a strange, confused face, “... marry. ”
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“Then allow me to be your lackey,” Bill proposed, quite comfortable given how he leaned in, almost closing the space between them both. Ford’s body structure was intriguing, attractive in all the strangest ways. He wanted to dissect it, leave bits and pieces on a metal plate until there was nothing remaining. Another part wished to simply hold a tendril in his hand, lovingly, perhaps over dessert on his back porch. These conflicting thoughts happened to be frequent, a flaw in his own system. “To obtain the unobtainable. Whatever you wish to seek, I’ll snuff it out and give you that knowledge. What does that handsome head want? Ancient history of the Egyptians? Buried treasures? World-ending monstrosities that awaken at the slick of a foreign tongue? Anything for you.”
Bill almost snorted. The possibility of entering a relationship with the demon was next to none. Of course, he never once expected any leeway— part of Ford’s charm was his inability to relate to human customs and emotions, and part of the fun was laying romantic gestures onto the table in hopes of confused responses. A being so far out of touch that he couldn’t comprehend the simple concept of friendship. It caused Bill to smile, face flushing with a dust of red at admiring the otherworldly nature. “Sure it is. We could get hitched right now. Don’t knock it till you try it.”
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“I have no use for lackeys.” This at least was familiar territory. Because he certainly had had countless mortals try and secure such a position in the many years of old. But the concept was ludicrous in itself. Worthless. He had no need for mortal slaves or followers. Slaves in of itself was a term he did not prefer. Perhaps worker, student, disciple . These suited him just fine. Those of the ever pursuing, learned sort. But not lackey, certainly.
The rest of Bill’s words however garnered his attention. He seemed to mull it over, and for his part, did not seem to pay mind or bother to the closeness of the other. Mortals tended to keep their distance from him, and rightly so, but Cipher was...a rather odd, unique and somewhat baffling element of a creature. Maybe in due part for his own intrigue he never protested the lack of space. Even contact with his form, however a rogue slithering tendril may come to flash and strike out here and there as if a separate entity of its own accord at such things. While he found Bill was welcome to try, there was no guarantee he didn’t receive a welt here or there for the attempts if the slithering of his body was rather heightened at the time. “Hm.” He considered, “Many of those sound...interesting. However I believe it is up to you , Bill, to make the final decision as to what to present to me. What respect you believe is deserved. Allow your judgement to be the guide to what you think worthy of this trade.”
Stanford certainly liked to guide others. And for him, half of the worth of these trades were what mortals expected to have that value in return. There was something to be said too of the worth of the ideas mortals had, of seeking out something, creating concepts, chasing a formula and having to unfold it all themselves. He found an impulse for these beings to be challenged. Ford was a teacher, after all, at the core of it. And what teacher would he be otherwise? He was also never one to simply bark orders and mold those who sought his talents. No, he was a bit more mysterious, a bit more alluding, forcing his disciples to work should they truly desire knowledge. And of the type that wanted creatures to take responsibility on their own, to learn to rise above the dim witted and listless, the worthless of the cosmos. A certain responsibility and independence was required for these ideas.
He tilted his head again there, at the last response. And he was confused. Confused, and strangely intrigued in a sort of...mystified kind of way. “I...do not think that is wise.” He replied at once.
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Bill’s perspective had laid differently. A past not revealed to one soul, but simple observation of his odd behavior had supplied an open book on those past experiences. The mindset of believing a sacrifice was to be made in order to succeed, to even have the slither of happiness that seemed to never freely present itself without a token in exchange. Soft brown eyes observed Ford, contemplating, a hand carding through his own hair as he weighed everything side by side. “Partnership,” Bill began with, gaze straying elsewhere in the room. A shift in tone, the more authentic kind he rarely used in conversations. A brief drop in the act. “That’s.. what I want to offer. Me aiding you in your pursuit of knowledge in exchange for my own needs. An eternal give and take. Rinse and repeat until my dying breath.”
And.. why. Why was the question. He could sugarcoat it with the simple answer of boredom and want for exploration, and while those themselves weren’t necessarily a lie, something else had festered within Bill. Dark. Resentful. A power hungry urge that couldn’t quite be satisfied.
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Interesting. Curious. The choice of words had been wise. They’d been very wise. Ford had no use or thought wasted for lackeys, for blind, brainless slaves. He despised the idea of such a burden. He was a being who enjoyed those that sought for their own. Thought for their own. Created, configured, and conquered their own limitations. Partnership. What a very unique choice of words.
He laughed all the same, a slight chuckle at the boldness of them too. To consider any mortal worthy of being equal to him was...well, impossible. And even comical, in the absurdity of it. But he found he was attracted to the ambition there. Cipher of course must know how limited he himself was, surely. And yet he still pursued this.
“You do understand what that entails, don’t you, Bill?” The slithering of his shadows, the snaking of threads that wove his very being seemed to increase, festering in a kind of curious energy against the whole of the room. “I wonder if you’ve thought this through, the impact of it. Those who...make these sorts of arrangements are bound to them entirely. There will be no escape. No excuse. You and I would be...dare I say it, bound until the end of time. ” Normally he would be presented with books, rare and unobtainable, or theories or ideas or art or possibilities. But this…? This was interesting. It held intrigue of a kind he hadn’t seen in many decades.
Not to mention he’d said it earlier, Ford detested boredom. He went so far to absolutely loathe it. The listlessness. The stagnation of the mind. The constant of one space of being with nothing new to build and create and destroy in between it all. Nothing to sharpen, wisen, challenge, or gain. And this was a very interesting offer that would abolish that idea, if for a brief spell of time. A flicker. “If we should do this, not only would I be bound to abide by my word, but you as well for any subject of research, any whim I may have, any task, no matter the price of it. And you would be compelled to do these things until your death, Cipher.”
Despite the difference of many demons, Ford himself never made underhanded deals. If anything, he often schooled mortals on their foolhardiness, on their absolute inability to predict the easily seen, spreading it before them with a clear certainty. He was a teacher, not a salesman, and not a grifter.
And exchange was all well and good, but his real intrigue lay in the final goddess of knowledge and all those who had the will and fortitude to seek it both beneath and alongside him. Besides which, the level this reached would be of the sort he hadn’t made a contract in for...well, an unimaginably long time. Perhaps not since Da Vinci, some time ago. It would be...interesting. And it was fortunate too that he happened to find curiosity in this mortal, the oddity of him seeming to draw his attention where others would be abandoned or even worse.
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“No need for the explanation. I know.” When those eyes wandered back onto the demon, starting from square one, there’s some completion to be found. A foundation, a beginning that potentially marked his painful demise all at the expense of power and desperate need of approval. All from someone who wasn’t human. Who could kill him, he was sure, in the blink of an eye, and only time would predict the outcome of when Bill attempted at breaking off the contract from regret. A future bound to happen, though the thought filled the researcher with an untouched excitement. It was a risk he was willing to take.
“I’m sure you’re well-versed in the lengths humans go through when involving their partners.” A different, much more equal footing relationship that couldn’t compare. This was nothing in terms of unconditional love, if any, even from his side. Merely an infatuation. “I think any sane man wouldn’t be willingly sitting in my position right now. Take that as you will. I’ve had plenty of time to think this over. Days. Weeks. I’m confident in what I want.”
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“You are many things, Bill Cipher, though dim witted, gullible and ill prepared are not among them…” There was a slight smile on his lips, and too, it seemed Cipher had caught him in a kind of fascination. That same slithering spark of intrigue, dancing just beneath the surface of him. “Very well. I accept this offer. But tell me - what is it specifically you expect in return? Do not waste time thinking about just the knowledge I possess on time travel...that is but a trinket, a trifle of a thing. Consider it a gift from me for our new found partnership. So tell me, truly, what else do you expect from this, Bill. What is it you desire.” He had to ask. He found himself entirely compelled to ask in his own way.
Cipher never ceased to pull at the threads of his curiosity, and it was something that had brought him back here on many occasions, challenging, prodding him in his own ways, leaving with it a sort of enticing curiosity. He made Bill work harder certainly than some of his others who called to him, Mason Pines being one of them, but it was only to speak of the potential he had always seen in the man. “Tell me, Bill. What is it you require from my end of this bargain.” And the slithering movement seemed to grow then, becoming more frenzied, shadows swelling in shape and size behind him, dancing out against the walls; a dark obscurity of long winding, flashing things to cover the fire warm light the fire cast out in a morbidly unearthly fashion, bringing with it an impossible cold into the air along with it. An impossible change. A certain excitement breeding in the depth of it all.
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Insane, he was. The sight of darkness swallowing everything whole, an endless nightmare he wished to submerge himself into, grasp it for as long as he could breathe, speak, and think. Bill’s smile was lopsided, a charming thing he was once complimented on in the midst of a poker game where his deception won. He remembered that night. A first where he experienced elation after many, many years of being trapped in depression. A small moment, but addictive, being held to a pedestal as others surrounded him in praise. One too many drinks occurred that night, one too many people borrowing his bed in the heat of the moment.
Bill glanced over the rubies and diamonds that sat on his knuckles, an initial engraved into the golden bands. “Power,” he said, finally. “I know, I know. Generic. There’s many things that could fall into that definition. Having some wacky corporation, dictatorship, world domination, all of the stereotypical villainous activities. But..” he bit the inside of his cheek, smile almost dipping into a frown. “I want to exceed that. Any and everything.”
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He laughed then, a rough thing, still a darkness lingering there. Of course it did. In it all, it was a part of what he was . And of course Bill did. That too, it seemed, was a part of what he was. “Naturally.” He surmised, still amused. In Stanford’s own way he too sought power. However, in all his time seeking it, it had come to him that the only real power lay in knowledge. In the continued conquest of it. Perhaps Cipher would see this too and the futility of power in the real world. Kings were the most listless, most diseased and idle of all. Those who sought power often found it never reached their expectations and went mad from it all.
Ford didn’t mind. It interested him. Because in fact as well, those who sought power would do almost anything to get their hands on it. And ambition lay beneath the surface. Stanford appreciated ambition. He respected it. It could be the driving force to turn the tides of something otherwise seen as impossible, drive men to reach knowledge and space unobtainable. It was a thing and a fire like nothing else. “I do not shake on these deals in a traditional sense, Cipher. You will see. And I will grant you what you wish for, in my own way.” And he moved forward against the floor in a shift of inky darkness, “Step closer, Bill Cipher. Once agreeing there will be a mark on your soul. You should know...this won’t end when you die. We will continue to be connected, regardless of what transpires after.” And the darkness seemed greater now in that swirling excitement, the threads from his chest lifting and coiling through the air like great snakes, surging upward as Ford reached out a hand, six rope-like fingers reaching out to pull Bill into the absolute madness of it all.
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“Funny.” Bill stood, confident, inviting as he took those final steps closer, extending a hand into the finality of it all. For Ford. For Mason, even. For the knowledge and suicidal mission of it all, to make a point for those who aren’t even around to bear witness to anymore. His chest swelled for the happiness he would kill for, for everything to return it back to his clutches. He gripped Ford’s hand, tight, secured, head held high as his laughter rang throughout the manor. “That’s a marriage proposal if I ever heard one!”
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As soon as Bill clasped at his impossibly alien hands the tendrils of them wrapped cold around the human’s wrist. The threads that opened his chest cavity revealed nothing but darkness swirling inside of it all, nothing but an black endless chasm, impossible shifting of utter lack of color and light. All the while each of Ford’s many eyes of shapes and color were focused on Bill, and each had thinned to slits, their respective colors filling out the entirety of them, leaving behind no whites at all. The rope-like threads at his chest opened it up wider, surging into the room at large which had become so much colder by now, as if to deafen and dim all color and warmth entirely, pulling and sinking it from the space as if the two had somehow plunged into the icy depths of a lake. And all at once the threads weaving up Bill’s arm pulled him fiercely forward, straight into the abyss of Ford’s open chest, the tendrils of cloth rearing back around like the spreading of some sickening wings, before collapsing in on themselves, against the pair, as if to consume Cipher whole.
And consume them they would. In a rush of cold, in a rush of darkness, they came onto the human as if a pack of closing wolves, and he would feel nothing but a numbing ice, a distinct and hungry, ageless, timeless cold . It would drive deep, deep, deep into his skin, into his bones, into his chest, into every part of him. And he would glimpse upon Stanford’s true nature then. The very real depth of him, perhaps as much as a mortal could glimpse that of an endless entity such as himself without being driven to madness.
For his part, Ford did his best to shield the other’s gaze on the extent that would reach that level. But he would glimpse it. That cool hunger, the endless drive for knowledge, the insatiable need to continue his grasping pursuit for the ever fleeting goals of power. The brief moments throughout history he’d reached to grace humans and others with such desires for it, and too, his intrigue in the arts of teaching and guidance and...perhaps even more human things such as games and occasional company. And mostly, at the heart of it, that dark pit that swirled through him, cold and calculating, to make up his very nature, the nature of something so removed from humanity, so removed from the space of time and conceptions of frailty. Stanford had lived trillions of years. And he would carry on for even more, his goal both unobtainable, and irresistibly sought.
And in it too Ford would see much of Cipher’s true nature there. It was what was required. A proper exchange. A fair exchange.
In the next moment Ford broke away, the swaths of cloth-like flesh drawing the other out from the whole of him. But Bill would find that they weren’t in his room, that they were in his house no longer. And Ford was no longer bound by the book that had summoned him there, instead his feet free against the sleek, marble ground.
Above and around towered an endless, spacious, pristine library. One painted in reds, vibrant golds and browns, stretching and stretching and stretching into the infinite. It was three stories high, with great pillars inscribed with many markings and symbols. Where they stood a fireplace indeed crackled to life, large and impressive, but so different from Cipher’s. Larger somehow, more ethereal and with it were an array of sofas and armchairs, all comfortable seated there as if created simply for the homey need to relax and read before its warmth.
Ford pulled back some, looking Cipher over, studying him to be certain the impact of what had just occurred had not broken him somehow, overwhelmed his mortal being, and done damage that would cause him irreparable harm. Deals like this often ended in chaos to the makers for some time, however Ford had learned over the eons to have a more gentle touch on it all, enough as to not shatter the mind of the weak willed. On the other hand, he had no interest in the weak.
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Haunting, as he expected it to be. The smile had all but collapsed in the rush of exhilaration and fear invoked upon the human. Bill found beauty in it. The core of Ford, the dark reality endlessly swarming and suffocating his entire being as blood ran cold, cheeks unknowingly dampening as his eyes remained unblinking. Wide with terror and astonishment, unable to close in the greater fear of missing the slightest disturbing imagery that was meant for him. He bared witness to it all. Felt it all, a streak of sobs almost escaping his throat as it clashed with ecstatic laughter. One only a madman could have, loud enough to make his throat grow raw.
Then.. he stumbled, no longer surrounded, no longer being consumed by what he deemed as madness. Bill had no time to observe his surroundings. He couldn’t stop laughing, shaking, and crying, a fit of hysteria as he collapsed to the floor, hands twisting themselves into his hair as he violently writhed, a choked and broken chant of Ford’s name being called. A breakdown. Needed, and for the first, but couldn’t possibly be at the worst time.
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Ford stood there, the once ravaging shifting tides of cloth like flesh of his body now seemingly calmed, returning back to their melodious, slower movements and natural rhythms. And as Bill broke down and collapsed right there in front of him the chaotic being knelt at once, placing a hand at the feeble creature’s shoulder, a solid and heavy thing, though still masked in a radiance of gentle cold. One that Bill would find in himself now too, perhaps even reacting to the feeling as if it were his own. They were connected now.
“Cipher.” He spoke calmly, evenly, grip tightening, “You must ground yourself. Ground yourself in yourself, Cipher. This will be your first task. Your first lesson. Your first conquest. Find your own being, your own light, you are lost like this now.” That aura, that light of the mortal’s will have changed some of course, shifted from the golden hues of the human’s aura to a slight mix of cooler blues of his own. An adjustment would be required. And well, when Bill had been pulled into the sea of his being, there was never a chance he would leave it entirely. There would always be some of him inside the other. Even for Ford, some of the human’s soul was melded inside of him, marking him too...the difference being it was but a small, small sliver, a slightness that could never match the full weight of his existence. “Guide yourself to it, to your own mind, your own soul or be forever lost in madness.” He held the tendrils at Bill’s shoulder, as if to ground the other in the touch, an urgency there in his voice.
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“F-Ford I-“ Each word was spluttered to a terrifying a degree. This wasn’t common. It felt like every emotion, all the trauma and tragic events had clustered into an overwhelming crash, Ford being the last to tip it over. He glanced up, shattering, breaking, his hands unable to decide whether they wanted to continue being curled or to reach out and touch his demon for comfort. His. Whose voice had sent a wave calmness over him, putting a stop to the laughter, yet the crying and shaking remained as everything came to a burning, painful halt.
Bill blinked the tears out his eyes, stared at the floor, ceiling, then back up at the demon hovering above him. He cracked a fragile smile, all too open. He wouldn’t fall into madness. No, not yet. There was much to do.
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Ford seemed to relax somewhat as Bill managed to regain at least some sense. Some sliver of it. It was enough to prove the creature had what it took to withstand the melding. Had what it took to make a deal like this and survive it on the other side. It was a treacherous path, making these kinds of bonds, particularly between mortals and beings like himself. And if the mortal on the other end were driven into a state of absolute madness, broken and irreparable, it was a hassle, a disruption for him to be rid of. Other humans who had been considered “great” in their time had also fallen apart in a gibbering mess after this process, just to climb back up, fight into the world and overcome. That difference was in that alone. It was a test by fire, of sorts, whether Stanford wanted it to be or not. Who would be worthy, capable of withstanding and growing in this arrangement, and who would fall and be tossed aside. Not to say he hadn’t tried to ease the impact, lighten the load of it significantly, but you could only do so much. Particularly for Bill, who he had too much an intrigue in to waste so early in.
He found himself glad that Bill had made it regardless. At least in a certain way and he continued to rest his hand there, continued to be a guide as a steady force to perhaps ease the human back into himself and the current changes that had formed there so abruptly.
Many other demons he knew had no interest in these sorts of bonds that now pulled between the two of them. Often using mortals as puppets, or taking all of their essence with little of value in return. Schemes and cheap tricks mingled throughout. But for Ford, an equal exchange wrought to the depth of the sense of a respect he had in himself. It felt necessary and held a certain meaning to him. He was too proud, too honor bound by certain concepts to behave as such a lower demonic lifeform might. Partners, which while laughable, rang better to him. Or perhaps students, equally exchanged in other ways. Not servants, slaves, or play things. Such ideas were beneath him. He was greater than that and often scoffed at those ideas. He despised the notion of enslavement and anyone who fell to such ideas or became enslaved in turn were not worth the mud under his boots.
There too was also truth to the fact they belonged to each other now.
They’d entered something that could never, not on either’s will, ever be broken. It was one reason he found the frail human concepts such as “marriage” so laughably foreign and even childlike. Such bonds were...well, meaningless in their own ways. Most human bonds and concepts tended to be, even if at times they drew a slight fascination from him. Yes, they were bound now, for eternity.
“I am here, but do not waver from this space in yourself, Bill. Whatever cruelties, whatever distaste or otherwise you may find, keep your feet rooted in your own energy and mind and you will adjust. I promise you this much. There is an endless path ahead of us, and I am afraid you will need to adapt to my nature, that which is now your nature, to reach it.”
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Easier said than done. The trembling had drained most, if not all of his energy, sucking him dry as he forcibly collected each individual thought. In the typical fashion, a clear mechanism used in order to gain control of the situation, Bill choked out, “Th-That’s.. about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” The dedication was there, strong and growing, not to be deterred by the mental and physical exhaustion that screamed to simply drown and never return to sanity. To give in, let it all end here and now.
A final sob escaped through clenched teeth as he went to hold himself up on forearms, steadily attempting to stand on both feet. His knees already wanted to buck, chest caving in on itself, but he pushed through. “I’m.. I got it,” he said, entirely exasperated. “... I got it. I got it, Ford. I’m alright.”
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A smile came to the demon, a slight, but satisfied thing and he stepped back, releasing his hold as the human climbed to his feet, still struggling, still seemingly on the edge of it all. But it was standing now. Yes. Good, that was exactly what he wanted to see. This was overcoming. If just… enough. Just enough to begin forward.
Adapting , that was the key.
“It will take time. Very few make this far, Bill Cipher...you’ve done well.” He complimented, and meant it. Ford rarely spoke in riddles or lies, and also never seemed much for untrue flattery all considered. It was a wasted breath of air to indulge in the ridiculous social structures and the strange dancing of meanings and non meanings humans tended to involve themselves in. And what was more, what was worse and far more prominent, all of it obscured truth. And knowledge was truth. To lie would be almost on par to the amount of blasphemy for the demon. No, he didn’t lie. And in all his existence he never found a reason to.
“Although...I still do not...quite understand this concept of romance. Perhaps?” He sounded confused for a moment before he stepped back again, still studying the other intently, the gaze beneath his spectacles careful, cautious, not missing a thing as his other eyes seemed to return to their usual listlessness. And too he found he could feel the tide of the other’s emotions clearly. He was certain if Cipher were to dig enough, he would feel the tide of his own, albeit perhaps was not the best time for the human to explore those concepts all considering.
“How do you feel, Bill Cipher?” He wanted Bill to find this answer on his own, to plant himself in it. After all, Ford already knew.
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“Like a fucking degenerate in need of a fix,” Bill admitted, clambering to his feet as he clutched his stomach. The weight had settled, an uncomfortable sickness meshing with his excitement. Maybe that was symbolic horseshit of his own life, but the thought quickly faded before he had the chance of getting metaphorical. He was unable to stand still, a shiver still present, fingers twitching against the fabric of his suit as he wrinkled it with death grip- a clench for his own reality that consisted of cold sweats, demons, and insanity meeting all at the same spot. He should have finished that cigarette.
“I.. well.” Bill swallowed the knot in his throat, clearing it as he recalled what was said previously. Words were slipping in one ear and out the other. “Don’t.. think too hard about the romance. Would you believe me if I told you even I’m not in the mood to flirt with you? Isn’t that.. crazy? Oh, Ford, the things you literally do to me. Inside and out.”
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Ford seemed satisfied with the answer, blatantly ignoring the ideas again about mortal, animal ideas of “romance”. It seemed to him more a way for Cipher to grasp onto this world, to his sanity, some method to cope right now. It was all just as well. He strode around Bill, a slithering of shadows following in his wake, observing him, taking him in. Good. This was going...decently, all considering. Better than expected.
“Such things are to be expected. It will take time to adapt.” He commented idly, nodding in some amount of approval as he walked the full circle around the human. “Are you ready then to see the realm this path has taken you to?” He stepped back then, the dark red fabrics slithering at his chest writhing, the trench coat billowing out in an invisible wind, his glasses flashing white as he gestured wide behind him toward the sea and rows of infinite books and tomes. “This space...this is my abode. A pocket dimension of my own, a “physical” representation of all the knowledge I’ve collected in these countless eons. And now it belongs to you as well. You may come here whenever you wish. It is the world of the “Dreamscape,” and meditation as well as sleep will lead you back here, should you desire it. Now that we have created this bond, you will find the halls will respond to your touch, your will power. In here you will find every shred of knowledge I have obtained.
“Though be warned, I am not one for simplicity. Each and every tomb is...vastly complicated. And many will take many years to study. Along the way, should you be capable of it, I will enter your mind and teach you many things, Cipher. In sleep. In waking. Grant you much knowledge that you request. But I will tell you now, it will not be easy, as I am sure you now understand, and adapting may prove to be....” He hesitated, “...rather challenging. I’m sure you’ve heard of many notable humans in history who have made such deals with me...the majority, by the end...unfortunately have gone mad from it. Empedocles. Da Vinci. Michelangelo. Van Gogh.” He waved it off. “A few whom I saw potential. It is not impossible to overcome these ideas, but you will need to be vigilant to not be among those that met this fate.”
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“Course I am.” Bill’s voice continued to waver, though soon, had calmed down, at least into something manageable. After a minute, he released hold on himself, adjusting his collar and cuffs casually as to not entirely ruin his appearance. Having a mental breakdown in front of your romantic interest never made for a good impression. A mere delay in the greatness of it all as he lifted his head, baring witness to the decades of knowledge presented before him. “You think I ever expected this to be easy?” It was rhetorical, at best. “That’s the fun of it, Ford. If I was being handed things on a silver platter, well. Let’s just say my attraction and interest in you would be close to zero.”
Bill’s heart was still in his throat. It’s almost suffocating. “Don’t worry about it. I.. got this. I do. A promise to myself and you.”
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Ford seemed satisfied with that. The writhing and activity of those shadows seeming to settle, albeit a subtle energy still remained there, excited almost, eager beneath the surface. Hungry in some strange, chaotic way. “I see.” He surmised. And he did see that about Cipher. That potential, that ambition. A certain manic strength. He was different from those that sought power just to have it of course. Different from the dull, or those dim witted enough to think it enough. Ford could always tell he enjoyed the challenge. And like him, he detested boredom, the dull, the listless.
This would make a very decent arrangement indeed. And perhaps challenge Stanford too, in its own way.
“Very well. In that case, once you are stable, our lessons will begin. I will be teaching you how to enter this space at your will and how to locate the knowledge you seek. As well of course to contact me when needed. I still cannot manifest in the real world without that book, without those symbols and the force of will to call me through them, however, ask for me and I will hear you. You and I share a much different bond than any other mortals, William. I understand that you will not soon forget this.”
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“William? We’re getting personal, I see.” Oh, his heart fluttered, whether it be from the long forgotten and unused birth name he tossed to the side, now dipped with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, or the concept of being referred to formally by a demon. Both, most likely.
“I’d say this calls for a celebration on this new relationship.” He clapped his hands together, practically beaming despite the unstable stance. “Have you ever done that? Partook in a celebration?”
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Ford considered him for a moment, surveying the changes. He was still mildly pleased at this outcome. This progress. “When I was...a younger creature. Perhaps once or twice, with my brother.” And there was something, mentions of a family once, lost and abandoned in the ages. “But...no. Not for many, many millennia.”
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“Had a brother, huh.” Family was a rough subject, but piqued his interest in this form. Given the opportunity, he weakly circled Ford, getting a better view of the demon’s structure. Checking him out, basically. “Then let’s recreate a moment. I’m not sure what customs you things got going on, but where I come from, we pop bottles, sing, and dance until the sun comes up.”
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“I am a demon, not a thing.” He spoke calmly, entirely levelly, but his gaze seemed to be more scrutinizing then, a little more towards something edging on dangerous. And in warning. Don’t mistake benevolence for weakness, was the message there. The reality of his power clear and stirring beneath the surface. When mortals got under his skin, truly disrespected him, it frankly proved to be the last they ever managed to do. But after a pause, after that dark gaze and swirlings of dark cloth that seemed to hold a bit more foreboding, he finally considered. “We do have...certain substances. Certain rituals, though I...cannot say I have partaken in them for many eons...”
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Bill ducked slightly, perhaps learning the lesson off the bat. The quickest he would ever correct himself, some shame and attraction being hand in hand at the scolding. He would take note in the future, though for now, continued smiling away as if nothing occurred. “Let’s give it a go,” he suggested. “No better way to start a new partnership than by exchanging our foreign customs. A lovely introduction for bonding, don’t you think?”
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Ford considered this. He seemed to stand there for a good moment, his every shifting body continuing to slither and shift, all while he studied the human. “...If you believe it appropriate.” He finally gave. “I can manifest some of this realm’s...substances into your world, if you prefer, in the same manner I do for my physical form. However, it may prove easier on your mind and body if we simply remained here, in this space.”
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“I do. ” Temptation sought after him as eyes gazed over the tendrils, a more morbid curiosity present, if only to trace the outline of Ford’s facial structure and eyes that surrounded him. If he weren’t a demon, personal space would have been broken an hour ago. “Either way is fine with me. If you say this place is better, then so be it. I’m pumping with excitement.”
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“For your physical and mental well being...yes, I would recommend as much. In this space, your physical body can come to no harm, remember this. Not unless you were to enter this place entirely alongside me. In time, perhaps, you will learn such things. But not now. Now, your mind is the only thing that exists in these corridors. But heed those words, William, and be cautious. For while you and I are connected, there is always the chance that lesser demons and beings of this realm may want to siphon that energy from you, and drag you into their dreamscapes. Of course, you have my protection, but for some that means very little. ” And with that, Ford brought out his arm in a single flash, a wave in which revealed suddenly an old oak table to appear before them, handcrafted, tasteful and clearly aged.
A few glasses appeared there at once, but rather than the teapot he’d normally prefer, a glistening crystal bottle filled with gold appeared instead, landing softly with a gentle clinking to the surface.
“In our customs my family often devoured the remnants of the dying cosmos, the spiralings of black holes and the echoes of raging supernova...however,” He considered the bottle, “this will do. It is fairly diluted and...from my understanding, at least… somewhat similar to your more refined alcoholic substances.” Of which, once upon a time, had been considered sacred, holy, a medicine and a method to commune with the gods. Once, many generations ago. A few black tendrils wove against the crystal bottle and he poured the drinks in each cup, however Ford did not particularly seem to know what to do in a celebration setting. Even sharing a drink with a mortal was ludicrous. Beyond such beings as himself. Beyond such beings as the cosmos. For whatever reason, it felt appropriate. He lifted his glass in a nod to the human.
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“Understood, Ford. All locked up here.” Bill jabbed a finger into his own throbbing forehead, relatively surprised at his cooperation. The drinks naturally pulled him in; maybe or maybe not he was an alcoholic starting at the age of eighteen, unable to get his hands on any other substances to abuse, but it had aged into something stored for celebratory purposes. “That’s.. amazing,” he said after a moment, eyeing the liquid with practically stars in his eyes, the drowsiness behind knocked from him. He took a cup, grinning, then held it in the air. “In this part, we clank our glasses together and declare a toast. Not sure why this ever became a thing, but I’m certain there’s some dark explanation regarding sacrifices knowing my race. Then we drink. How’s that sound?”
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“There are many reasons, from many cultures.” Ford supplied, at once. It was a bit ridiculous to pose a question to an infinite being of knowledge and not expect the answer, after all. “To satisfy all five senses; touch, taste, sight, smell...and sound, as wine was a luxury and a delicacy then. As a way to ward off evil spirits in the sound of it, or the spilling of wine as offering for those wayward entities that may linger beneath one's feet. To offer worship or sacrifice even, a symbolism for such things. “Primarily however, it was done as a sign of proving that poison was not concealed in the glass. Once in this stretch of time wine was a common concealer of poison, and should you bring your glasses together, the liquid would splash between your two cups, ensuring both die by the same hand.” He continued, though a tendril wove around the glass and brought it in all respects toward Cipher’s regardless of this. “I suppose that’s fitting enough.” And he did just this, clinking the glass just enough so a slight of each other’s liquid spilled between the glasses in a seamless fluidity.
The drink itself tasted of gold. Of warmth, of light, of the streaming rays of the sun on a hot summer day. It had almost no texture, no structure to it; rather it seemed as if an impossible, unnameable substance and would coarse, flooding through every inch of one’s body like the streaming rays of the flaring, filtering sunlight, touching gently at every nerve, and every sight. Colors would become more vivid, more prominent. And anxieties, listlessness, even inhibitions would fade and dull.
It had been some time since he’d tried it. This particular stock something of a millennia old at least, gifted to him and stocked away for a unique or particular day that never came. Ford tested it against his tongue, musing in the warmth. It was pleasant, however he found himself preferring a much harder bite than this one provided. One that would combust the span of the cosmos, like that of an imploding star, would reel into the pits of him and come out hungry for more. Such things were preferable to this. Darker and harsher. But he was drinking with a human, a mortal, and such concepts he knew would more than likely destroy the being. He had to be careful. Safer. Better to simply bring out a finer substance, but one that posed little inherent risks.
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“Thank you for the explanation. I have you know, I could listen to you spill information for hours.” He smiled, authentic. “Cheers for a longtime partnership, Ford. Hopefully the poisoning talk hasn’t given you any ideas.”
Bill clanked the glass in unison, content, bringing it to his lips as he briefly inspected the liquid, taking a light sip in order to test the waters. One of the strangest things that hit his tongue, yet exhilarating for the experience, the softer memories that occurred of him and his sibling toying with tadpoles after it rained one Saturday evening. Odd to recall, but there it was, gently passing over like a breeze, his arms going slack as these lazy sips resumed.
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“Indeed.” He agreed, his tone perhaps even a bit more companionable as he tipped his glass to the other before finally taking another drink, shadows dancing against the still flickering firelight as a pair of comfortable looking sitting chairs appeared at either end of the table, the shiftings and slitherings of his body continuing to dance and squirm though by now in a more gentle, easier way. Perhaps this was not entirely human custom for celebrations, the easier atmosphere of the situation...but it seemed suited. He enjoyed it. Companionable, that was certainly the word.
He eased himself into the chair, propping his leg crossed against the other in a more relaxed fashion.
Should he desire it, he would allow Cipher to put forth suggestions should they arise in this occasion. It had been his desire to celebrate after all. His eyes, the ones behind his glasses to the other’s form in. Reaching gently, prodding at the surface, trying to discover, reveal where his mind and spirit were at. If he was still struggling as much as earlier, perhaps there just beneath the surface, pulling at the fraying strings of sanity. It was another reason the “celebrations” had deemed to Ford to being a good idea. Particularly in this substance as it was gentle, but hot, reassuring but coarse in its own way. Too much could become too bright and perhaps disorienting, but it would not risk to tip the mortal over the edge.
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Bill.. finished the drink quickly. Addictive in its own special way, then again, most generic alcoholic substances he downed were the same in that regard. He even licked the rim, momentarily forgetting his manners as he chased for the warmth, lapping the last remaining drops. Bill’s face was hot. Not too reddened in color, but satisfied, a lightweight he couldn’t exactly help. At the very least, he wasn’t drunk. “If you wouldn’t mind, ” he started with, a light chuckle unable to refrain from escaping. “I do have one request. A little, very simple one.”
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Ford studied him then as he leaned back in the chair, taking in the human, but nodded for him to continue. “A request...and what might that be?” He found himself reasonably satisfied that Bill was not about to relapse back into hysteria. Taking note of his dependencies. They’d never been a secret to him. Never hidden. It was a trait many humans and...quite frankly, other beings of the cosmos shared. Cipher was not unique in this way, even if he found some stir of distaste for the eagerness in the human to take in every drop. A habit he would unlearn in their time together. He would make sure of it. Patience. Pose. Practicality. Without it, nothing would truly be gained.
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It appeared important at first, given the whole show he displayed of rolling up his sleeves, setting the glass down as he smoothed his hair back in preparation. When he opened his mouth, however, it had strayed away from anything relatively interesting, if only a selfish desire he was jonesing to make a reality. “If you would allow it, I would appreciate.. ahem. A hug. Yes, a simple display of physical affections shared between us both, to commemorate this celebration.” Plenty of words that basically translated to him wanting to touch Ford with permission.
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“A….hug.” Ford repeated dully, blankly. He just stared at the other, even the many eyes floating above his head turning to have a perplexed look. “...You want an….embrace?” There were again many things in his lifetime which he had come accustomed to. In which he had discovered to lay before his feet. Sacrifices, worship, all the darkest of offerings. However, it seemed to him those like Bill, and even Mason, were...somewhat removed from this particular world. He lifted the glass again to his lips, taking it slow before lowering it again. “I do not believe that to be wise.” He finally said.
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“Yes, an embrace.” As silly as it was, there was some value behind it all, at least for himself. It wasn’t common for Bill to seek the touch of another person, nonetheless a demon who contained endless knowledge, but even those human urges had kicked in from time to time. Partially influenced by recent events. “Could you elaborate? Would it kill me?”
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Something strange. That was perhaps the definition he found in William over their time together. A strange thing. A rather eclectic, entirely bizarre creature, certainly something off the normal compared to most mortals he’d come across to even request such a thing. He felt briefly sure that perhaps the human would push it too far one day. His requests too demanding. Already they tipped the edge, if only just. Demanding things that would perhaps put him as more an amusement, a curiosity than the being of infinite resources and knowledge he truly was.
“No.” He finally said, the golden liquid swirling gently in his glass as if in some consideration. However, despite these thoughts, today was not that day. “It would not kill you. At least...I think more likely not.” He paused then, as if doubting the words. He honestly couldn’t quite predict the chaotic aspects of his nature then, the realistic reactions involved in it, that festering dangerous hunger that lay beneath the surface of his being in this moment. “Perhaps in the state I am now would be unwise...and regardless, I do not imagine it to be at all enjoyable.” He scratched at his chin, still mulling against it, “All considering, it...may be wiser to wait for such unusual requests until both of us have adjusted. My nature has become…” He took a breath, “...wanting.” was all that was left to be said there, with no explanation added. Festering. Grabbing at the seams and threads of energy between them. The hues of gold and blue. A chaos, an animal sort of thing that met like cold water beneath a thick layer of ice, beneath the calm, intellect and pose. No...perhaps that sort of idea, particularly somewhat intimate ones by comparison, were not wise in such a freshly reborn state that the two now sat within.
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“Ah.” Animalistic, he would call it, though avoided vocalizing such a thing in order to avoid antagonizing his partner. Bill tucked his hands into his pockets, somewhat disappointed and still enamored by the response. He was patient. Perhaps not towards others of his race, but Ford held a special respected position. “Wanting,” he echoed. “A very flattering word. I’m absolutely sure that isn’t code for ripping my body into pieces.”
The words were cheerful, still holding onto that high energy that was once sucked from him moments prior. “I’m not hugging you simply because it would physically be enjoyable, just to clarify. It’s the thought. Oh well.” He shrugged, balancing on the back of his heels. “Always next time! I am interested in getting this show on the road. Thank you for the drink, by the way.”
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There was a chance of that, quite honestly. But he didn’t offer the confirmation, instead he tilted his head to the other, “Yes...next time perhaps.” Perhaps as things settled, when the both of them became more even among the new formed bond, it would be worth allowing the mortal in such a whim. Even if there was a certain aspect of excitement to it all, a thrill in the depth of the situation, the new found bond, decidedly it was still wise to avoid any...temptations or confrontations with these aspects and risks in himself. Instead he set the glass on the table and nodded. “I take it you are ready to return to your world, then...?"
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“Yes.” Bill gave a final glance around the room, inhaling, a newfound confidence coming into play. He felt good, bright. A surge of adrenaline that could leave him running laps around the Falls without pause. “I have someone I need to speak to. My only other pal in this dump. Never been one to keep a friend, but hey. I got a soft spot for kids.”
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A slightly contemplative look came to him then at the words, an image of a pine tree appearing above his head for a brief flicker of a moment. “Dipper.” He responded easily and without surprise. Mason Pines, to be more accurate. But he knew full well the child’s preferences on the name. “Very well. However, you may want to consider allowing yourself some rest for the next few days.” And he got back to his feet, striding toward the other and held out his hand for Bill to grasp onto, to take him back to his mortal plane. “Soon enough...I will be teaching you how to enter and leave this place on your own, William. Do you understand?”
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“Otherwise known as the disgusting ice cream, Dippin’ Dots.” Bill laughed at his own joke, no shame apparent as he recreated the space between him and Ford. He reached out, something that would never grow old, hand in the palm of a demon’s with a secured grip. His demon. Partner. For eternity. “I understand perfectly clear. I hope you’re looking forward to what awaits us. For once, I have a good feeling.”
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Apparently, Stanford did not get the reference. “Alright. Hold onto yourself, Cipher.” Again the weaves of fabric shot outward from the demon, however the feeling, the cold of Ford’s grip was different somehow. Not as biting as when they’d made the deal, not as deep, not as endless. The bond had already been forged and all it took was a surge of black that swept, curling, rifting over the endless space all around, blinding them, consuming them and...in the next moment Bill would awaken back in his home. The book still open, however all signs of Ford’s presence gone. Aside perhaps from a difference in feeling, a difference in temperature, an unchangeable thing deep inside Bill that would fester there and remain that way. Forever.
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Bill wasn’t necessarily sure if he would ever become accustomed to the feelings this transport had produced, his soul feeling sucked out of his body, if not entirely replaced with someone else’s. His return into the emptied living room left him disoriented, confused, at first, until his gaze glued onto the familiar pages left amongst his table. A clutter in need of being organized, but a reassurance lying within the book. Another smile, the giddiness exceeding all else as he booked it out of his home, snatching the keys off the hook beside the door. Today marked history. A history that would be reshaped underneath his control, molded and twisted, pasts erased and recreated.
A few neighbors had gifted Bill a strange look. More than usual as he bursted outside, spinning and cackling loud enough to startle nearby resting crows who picked at a deceased possum. It wasn’t unusual to hear his laughing fits, but this one sounded.. far happier than explicitly crazed.