Work Text:
1.
You know you have:
- Dozens of pairs of closed Eyes, organized by color. Many yellow ones form your hair, many red ones form your ear-wings, and the remainder try to blend into a skin tone. Most other colors are used only for structural support.
- Only one pair of open Eyes, as you're going undercover. This pair is Yours, too vibrant a purple to be wasted anywhere else.
- A normally inconspicuous outfit; sweatpants, slip-on shoes, and a large red sweater. It'd be a whole lot easier to fit into the sweater if you didn't have to keep the sleeves rolled up, but it turns out fine. The seams between the Eyes look enough like scars.
This is the only information You have clearance for. That's alright, though, as You get to Watch today. An idiot's inconspicuous here, anyway.
2.
Soon, you see another idiot. When he turns to you, his eyes are brown. You swear they were blue.
"'Ey, Grian!" Jimmy calls, closing what distance was between you. "What's up, man? You look like..." He looks at you, squinting a little bit. He's craning his neck down exaggeratedly, like he expects you to be taller. "Did you get new... glasses?"
You don't ask him if he got new eyes. You might let something slip. "Timmy, I'm busy today. Are you going to talk about the weather, or are you going to let me past?"
He takes a step back, hands instinctively up in front of him. "Oh, uh-" His eyes dart around, but he pulls them back to Yours. "Um, yeah, of course!" Before he lets you through, he puts a hand on your shoulder. You're glad it's not your forearm. "Are you alright, dude?"
"Of course." You slide your hands into the pockets of the sweatpants as your fingers threaten to writhe. "There's a whole..." You sigh, beginning to walk again. "...thing with some code. Have to hit stuff with the Admin mallet."
He tilts his head, opens his mouth. He doesn't ask any more questions, just staring after you. You don't think he Knows.
3.
The people you don't need to talk to generally leave you alone after you start furrowing your eyebrows. You have enough Eyes to have eyebrows now, more slipping out of the cracks in the universe as you head deeper into the server. There's too many beautiful ones being used for bulk.
Your next encounter's coming up. You have no data on him. Gathering:
- He's in a stained blue cardigan and perfectly clean khakis. This does not clarify anything about what sort of person he is.
- He has short hair, though you think it'd look better long.
- His eyes widen as you get closer.
He walks up to you, opens his mouth, then turns away like you're not right there.
"BigB," you greet him.
"Grian." His hands are in his pockets, only his eyes trained on you. "That sure is my name." They're pitch black. You wonder what kind of interesting, pupil-revealing color he should have instead.
You stop too, hands in your pockets. "Why are you looking at me like that? Something up?"
He's looking at your ear-wings, at your lengthening hair, avoiding Your beautiful eyes. "Nothin' much. You?"
The sound of Your superiors discussing something flows between your Eyes, a whisper network. 'He Knows Us!' one says; the next says 'He owes Us,'; the final says 'T-bones Us'. You figure he must drive.
"There's an error," you say, just in case he talks to Jimmy. You don't want BigB snitching. "Have to go deal with that. Do you need anything?"
He's still staring at the ear-wings. He tucks some of his hair behind his own ear as he says, "No. I just-"
This is wasting your time. You keep walking.
"Weren't you over at-?"
Oh no, did he see H-
He's making eye contact now. His eyes are still wide, but now Yours are too. "Oh, never mind. I was thinking about the squirrels. You know, the ones with all the arms?" he manages to say casually. "Common mistake."
"…I guess." Based on the light in his eyes, you assume you didn't say the right thing. You nod goodbye, speeding up as you keep walking.
You're not sure if he Knows, but he knows something. You move him up the list.
4.
You have just enough red Eyes gathered to form recognizable wing-shapes. They burst through your clothes, leaving unraveling gashes on the back of your pristine sweater. You fold them behind yourselves as you round the corner. This one's skittery, you hear.
When Pearl spots you, she scoffs.
"What's wrong?" you ask, stepping towards her base. It's remarkably clean outside, all the storage kept in the actual building. "Something on my face?"
This causes her to fully laugh. "Yeah, purple eyes!" She's perfectly casual, leaning on her door to keep you out. "You tryin' somethin' new? You real into red and purple, is that it?"
"Anything wrong with red and purple, Pearly?"
She looks a bit confused at the nickname, but she keeps her cool. "A lotta things."
"Such as…?"
"Looks bad," is all she has to say about that. "Listen, I also don't get what you're doin' with your ears. What's that red stuff meant to be, hair?" She leans forward, meeting you in the middle now that you've cleared the distance. She's still blocking the door. "If they're ears, why are they drooping like that?"
Your ear-wings puff up, spreading out into pseudo-horns to frame your face. "This better?"
Still against the door. She's not quite cornered, she could always go inside. You wonder what's in there. "Yep, nothin' weird now! 'Cept for…" Her smile's wide and cheeky as she goes to ruffle your hair.
It doesn't stay like that for long.
She glances between you and her hand, eyes wide. Like it's somehow her hand's fault that all she felt when she touched your hair were flesh-encased webcams.
You leave without another word. You think she Knows now. You need to hurry.
5.
Beautiful shades of red and blue and yellow fill out your wings, and you can't help but splay out your 'feathers'. The light catches you; you pose for the straggling Eyes.
Just for a moment, though. Neither your test nor your mission is complete, and she may give the game away.
Your last test subject doesn't need you to approach him yourself.
"Oh God," Martyn whispers, eyes wide as saucers. He manages to finagle his voice louder. "Uh, h- hey, guys! What's up?"
More and more Eyes stream out of the tears in the universe, filling out your wings and bulking out your sweater. You keep walking. You already know he Knows.
He turns, determined to keep facing you. "Please! Please don't do anythin' this time!" You hear footsteps. "Just- Do you want to hang out? We could hang out! That could be nice?"
You think you know where He is. You don't need Martyn yet.
A pair of Eyes on the back of your head peer at him. He stops dead when they meet his. "Please," he whispers, "Please don't turn me into a pair of Ears." His hands are clasped like he's still Christian.
You keep walking.
?.
Your target stands in front of His house, rifling through the storage system splayed across His yard. He freezes as you approach.
You know He has:
- Dirty blonde hair cropped to the chin.
- Human ears, no interesting bells or whistles.
- A normally inconspicuous outfit; sweatpants, slip-on shoes, and a worn red sweater. His arms are covered in scars, just visible where He's rolled up the sweater's sleeves.
- Dark eyes that widen as you get closer.
Grian stumbles backwards when He sees you, sword already in hand. "What the hell?!"
You wordlessly pull a mallet out of your storage. It's glitching, purple light dancing through the clearing as you raise it.