Chapter Text
In the end, it really was just a coincidence that they met.
Mike Crew stands near the edge of the roof, feet perhaps firmly planted on a solid surface but the wind whistles like he’s falling anyway. He watches the slim woman with the mousy brown hair meet his eyes and realize he’s not the savior she wanted.
He can see her ignore that instinct and run up to him anyway. Desperation streams from her mouth, pleads and cries that they both know he won’t listen to, but she has to try anyway.
There’s a low, unhurried creak as the door opens a second time.
Mike knows this building has never had roof access.
“Claraaaa,” A voice croons from inside, echoing like a headache.
The woman’s sobs increase in intensity and she tries to grab at Mike, but the contact only serves to send her to her knees in a bout of severe vertigo.
He watches her crumple dispassionately. The rush of fear directed toward him is a bit of a distraction, though.
“Oh Clara, what have you gotten yourself into?”
Mike looks up. A loose concept of a person walks out of the doorway. Spiral. It’s not even trying to pretend at this point. Bit of an eyesore, though.
Its eyes, or what he thinks are its eyes, snap up to meet his, and Mike ignores the way his peripherals twist at the edges. They’re in his place of power. Not much it can do to him up here.
Mike sighs inaudibly over the sobs of the woman. You never really know how coherent other avatars are. This one might be, if it talks. Mike doesn’t particularly want to fight, but sometimes one isn’t given a choice.
The concept has slid closer in the meantime, but the distance it maintains tells him there’s some level of thought going on in there.
“Are you going to save her?” It asks, tone so unnaturally full of innocent curiosity that Mike feels an echo of the impulse to shiver.
Before his eyes, it almost seems to solidify a bit, like a dissected kaleidoscope coming into focus. Mike can almost make out a person in there. He doesn’t really want to.
It waits, clearly expecting an answer.
It’d be rude not to, so Mike tells it he might. He’s considering it. Of course, he wouldn’t be saving the woman in the way she wants but she’d have a better fate in the sky than with It Is Not What It Is.
The concept frowns.
“Poaching from others is rude, Michael Crew,” It replies. He’s not even surprised it knows his name. If Mike was to assign an emotion to it, he would say it sounds petulant.
“Mike,” He says instead. It is rude, but she’s still kneeling at his feet and not all of her fear is directed at It Is Not What It Is. He wouldn’t want to make a habit of it, but one stolen victim should be fine.
“Mike,” The concept of a person concedes, looking more like a person by the second. Is it going to try and appeal to him with that? He couldn’t care less about what it looks like.
“Mike?” The woman echoes, looking up at him. A terrible choice, undoubtedly, one should never look up at an avatar of the Vast. The way she sways is telling enough.
To her credit, she doesn’t immediately collapse again. It won’t save her though. Always a bit awkward when they perk up right at the end, but he’s reached a decision.
“Right, er, Clara is it?” Mike asks rhetorically, “Sorry about this,” He says, reaching down a hand.
She dodges it.
Quick instincts, this woman.
The concept of a person laughs at him with the dulcet undertones of teeth scraping unglazed ceramic.
The woman, Clara, scuttles backward from Mike, but to its visible disappointment, not far enough for it to grab.
“Stay back! Both of you!” She shouts, backing up away from both of them. Neither move as she gets closer to the edge of the roof. Mike watches blandly as The Concept makes an aborted step forward and can see the realization cross its now near-human face. Anything it does might send her straight to Mike’s domain.
Clara’s eyes flick between the two of them in panic. There’s no scenario where she wins here and Mike thinks she knows it.
It really would’ve been easier on everyone if she’d just stayed still and let him take her.
For a moment, Mike considers just leaving. This isn’t his business and it’s a bit too much work for the potential of starting a feud with an aspect of the Spiral.
But he’d made a decision and attempted to act on it. He can feel the Vast pressing in on the edges of his perception, cold infinity surging through his veins, a heightened awareness that says he’s locked in now.
As it turns out, there’s really no need for the dramatics.
The Concept, likely reaching the end of its patience, takes one more step too close and the woman hurriedly shuffles backward again, this time over the roof edge.
Mike can taste the moment she feels her hands meet open air.
The Concept snarls, becoming an abstraction again as it lunges for her. It misses, of course, the second she touched the sky, she became Mike’s. The woman screams, but within the next moment it's swallowed up by the roar of the wind.
The Concept, abruptly human-shaped again, pulls back from the edge, a childish moue of disappointment affixed on its face.
Now that the moment is over and he’s fed, Mike almost feels bad for it.
“Nothing personal,” Mike offers magnanimously.
A thought occurs to him.
“Why did you bring her up here anyway?” Mike asks, passive curiosity suffusing his voice.
The Concept looks over at him, blonde ringlets shifting like sand as it turns its head. It laughs, airy, echoing, but it seems more like a reflex or filler than anything. He waits for it to answer.
“I haven’t decided yet,” It says eventually.
Mike blinks, noncommittal.
“Right,” He says.
The Concept watches him. He’s not quite sure what to do now. It casts its gaze around their surroundings. Mike can’t read whatever emotion it’s showing.
“You could have sent her to the Falling Titan at any time,” It says abruptly, like it’s coming to an epiphany. Mike’s not really sure what the significance is here.
“I could’ve,” Mike agrees.
“But you waited,” It sounds vaguely accusing.
“I did,” Mike nods.
“Why?” The Concept asks finally, and it starts to dawn on him that it might be offended.
“Well, er, it would’ve sent you too,” Mike says slowly, awkwardly. This is perhaps the longest conversation he’s had in a few months. “Didn’t think you’d enjoy that much.”
The Concept blinks at him before accepting the answer with a nod.
“I find you interesting, Mike Crew,” It says eventually.
If he was human, that would likely be incredibly disconcerting to hear.
As it stands, he just says “Right,” and puts his hands in his pockets. Does it expect him to say it back? It probably wants to be found interesting too but he doesn’t care enough to stick his foot out and risk an avatar faux pas.
It nods again, more to itself than to Mike and turns to leave.
“I will see you again,” It says, somewhere in between cheerful and menacing. There’s an implied promise that this will happen whether or not Mike wants it to.
He doesn’t say anything as the door squeals shut and when he makes to look at it again, it’s gone.