"Speech"
'Thoughts'
["Speech Through Technology"]
||
…
[One Week Later]
"Alright, let's try this one last time."
Dante, sitting in his chair inside the dining room, said as he stared across the table.
"What am I thinking of?"
Malo, who was sitting across from him, hid her face, followed by making two claws with her hands, and ended with a tilt of the head with both index fingers pointing at her head.
Practically sighing, "Yeah, I still can't get over this." Dante let the spoon he was using to eat cereal rest in his bowl. There was no reason to pretend she had gotten it wrong.
Fear, anger, and confusion.That's exactly how he felt. The idea of someone being able to read his feelings was disgusting, but she seemed to be actively trying to improve at it.
"Look," Dante took another bite of his off-brand but surprisingly good cereal. "I don't dislike you, hate you, or despise you; I just don't like the idea of someone being able to read my thoughts."
Malo gave a slow nod. The idea of Dante secretly being disgusted with her had surfaced in her mind when she first felt his feelings.
Even as she nodded, she failed to meet his gaze, her clawed finger-tips touching, but failing to stay still.
For Dante, it had taken constant reassurance to keep Malo from spiraling. It was harder for him to reassure her because every time she read his feelings, the primal revulsion he felt ate at her confidence.
Dante could understand where she was coming from. 'If I had someone, I saw as my only friend looking at me like I was an absolute monster, I'd feel a certain way too.'
Thinking about this week carefully, Dante found his rate of running into monstrosities was lowering. His planning and preparation, however, didn't stop.
The grind continued. The pursuit of increased martial prowess and his mastery of trapping. This week was about trying to learn how to board up his windows in a way that hurts more going in than going out.
That required the correct boarding techniques, nails, a hammer, or a drill, and knowing which type of wood to use. Certain types of wood were prone to termite infestations, and other types would lose structural integrity over a short amount of time if not handled properly.
Finishing his cereal, Dante pushed his bowl to the side.
"Malo," Dante reached his left hand out, his palm skyward. "Do you trust me?" The question hung in the air for a moment, "Because I trust you."
Dante's eyes looked softer, his hair covering his face just right, and he began pushing all of his trust into their shared connection.
"So please, keep believing in me."
For a heartbeat, both sides only stared. After that moment, Malo's clawed fingers came up through the table. Her fingertips were hovering over Dante's while the rest of her palm was under the table, unable to be seen.
The soft touch of fingertips lasted two seconds before Malo pressed slightly harder. Her fingers slid over Dante's, and she began leaning against the table, copying Dante's posture. When both hands fully rested against each other, at the same time with perfect symmetry, both hands began closing and held each other.
Dante could feel it. Malo was locked in with him once more—quite literally, as her feelings were practically pressing against his brain—she had total faith in him once more.
A smile rested on his face. Malo waited for the feeling of happiness to brush against her, though it never did.
Her head tilted to the side in confusion.
Dante, feeling her confusion, suddenly had an "ahh" moment. "Sorry about that, forgot."
That's when she finally felt it, the shimmering calm cloud of happiness and satisfaction.
"Now, let's take care of that…" Dante's tone veered off.
In the corner of his house was a creature. It stood motionless, tall, hunched over, and all black. It seemed to be glitching, but every time Dante tried to get a look at it, his body would automatically move his eyes to look away.
It seemed pretty harmless at first, he thought of using it as a ward against unknown entities. But, its true power seemed to be taking hold. Something had been trying to implant memories in his head and was failing terribly.
It was trying to tie itself to a female identity that was close to Dante. Now was the time to get rid of it. Allowing it to manifest would be akin to suicide.
Dante blinked once, and Malo disappeared and reappeared behind him. Standing up, Dante lifted his shirt and took a knife from his holster.
Walking over to the corner, Dante tried to stare at it, get a good look, or whatever he could to make out its features. Nothing worked. His eyes always seemed to want to look somewhere else.
By the time he stood before the creature, its face was right before his. The feeling of manipulation grew stronger, the memories—*click*—and the feeling was gone.
Taking the knife, Dante pushed it upward. A huge amount of force jammed the knife into the neck of the creature, tearing through bone.
Dante could hear the sickening crack. But that wasn't on his mind, what was really on his mind—
'How did Malo know what I wanted to do?' The thought permeated his mind, much more than the dissolving body of whatever creature this was.
"How did you know I wanted to do that action?" It was a simple, direct probe.
Malo pointed to her head with both fingers, in a think-type manner.
"Urgh, you're evolving." The idea that Malo was getting good enough to actually read his mind drew negative emotions from Dante. However, Malo was surprised this time wasn't utter revulsion. It was just quiet disappointment followed by concern.
By the time Dante turned his attention back to the dissolving mess, it was already gone. As if the creature never existed.
Returning the knife with a tired sigh and a look of "I don't get paid enough for this shit." Dante began walking to his room.
'Home defense is first; I need more confidence in my safety.' Dante thought as he reviewed ideas on more personal traps that would get the average eldritch invader, but not himself.
Dante knew. The second he got complacent, prideful, or lost his fear of the supernatural, his death would be inevitable. The test of the presence had given him something he could work with. He had mental resilience, or resistance.
There was no other answer as to why he could even survive the first mind-fuck that happened the second he stood outside his house. He knew the creature was there due to his cameras, but couldn't do anything about it.
At first, he was confused and trying to fight the memories. That didn't work. Only after prolonged exposure was he able to resist. After that, he became completely borderline immune.
That's the ONLY reason he was thinking of keeping it as a guard. It didn't affect Malo, so the idea that the creature would grab anyone, or anything that passed close enough, would do.
But the plan had to be scrapped. The creature hadn't stopped trying to violate his brain, and it was getting annoying for Dante to cross-reference and fact-check a supernatural mind-fucker.
'The mental battle provided valuable information. The way your details became spotty, like a child drawing in a coloring book, was fascinating.' Dante thought as he got ready to take a shower.
"Ohhh, Tch." Came from Dante's mouth.
"I forgot to wash the bowl…"