A tan faux leather-bound book inscribed with the visage of a skull surrounded by rotating, red teardrops on the front cover. The inner pages are a vibrant sepia with pale-blue lining.
Nothing to do but think. And thinking has become much weirder.
It started after we got back from Colorado. I was both physically and mentally exhausted from the entire excursion, and was all but ready to fall over onto my mattress. Michaela has taken Quinn into the main house to better feed her since I seem to keep being gone for weeks at a time.
It started quietly. A faint rumble at the base of my skull, that slowly became much more tangible.
I'd like to think I'm not particularly squeamish. Granted, my frame of reference is Tropir, which may lead to some skewing of the results. But still - I don't get uncomfortable easily.
My body is slowly decaying as a result of my powers. Cosmetically, perhaps, but it decays nonetheless. I am fine with this. My body for my goals. It is a simple exchange.
What I had not anticipated was for my mind to go.
The rumble turned into a whisper, a scraping, nasty voice - one that reverberated through my entire being. It began a piercing headache, one that the Endurance could not quell - and spoke in unfamiliar tongues, as if accustoming itself as well.
Over a few days, I managed to learn to tune it out - though it slowly seemed to drift closer and closer into proper speech. As of now, it quietly speaks gibberish in English - a random assortment of nouns and verbs, seemingly unconnected. However, I can't shake the feeling that it - whatever *it* may be - is trying to communicate with me. And I'm not sure I want to hear what it has to say.
The voice, whatever I ought to call it, has spoken.
It has finally gotten past its learning curve and started talking in proper English (as proper as English can be). No more jargon, this being is clearly intelligent. It remains elusive in nature, but has started offering up words when I forget them or completing thoughts that take slightly more time than usual. It's been a bit passive-aggressive, but whatever the voice is, it's clearly trying to aid me, even if it doesn't fully comprehend how its actions might offend. It has not responded to any comments I offer in its direction, nor has it shown it can even hear me, but I remain hopeful in building a rapport.
My most likely theory thus far is that this thing is the originator of my powers, hence its connection to me. It certainly has a voice befitting some sort of ancient shadow entity. For now, however, it appears I have an extra voice in my head, albeit once that is much more noticeable than the usual running commentary.
Developments.
Beyond my typical training of picking a subject and spending a few days being completely consumed in learning about it, The Voice seems to be capable of communion. If I focus hard enough while listening to another language, It auto-translates whatever I hear. Handy. With a bit more focus, it can even translate what I say - though it feel as if I've a frog in my throat when it does so. Still, it's a handy ability - one that has proven itself useful in the past, and that I am glad to have obtained. It only seems to work on human languages, but that's good enough (for now, at least). I suspect that if I put some effort in while using this power, I could even try to memorize the language and then rely on the ability less. That may take some time to fully prove its use, but for now - I can speak any human language. Now I just have to find someone worth talking to.
This is really starting to be an issue.
Brunch! I got flown out! It was free food! There was a talking dog!
I think I might genuinely need professional help, because whatever is going on with me is seriously impacting my social life.
I tried to talk to the dog (this was before I knew it was a man) and failed, and did so in such an obviously embarrassing manner that Laz walked over and sat at the kid's table. Then we had a chat about morals or whatever and he said he thought I was a good person (is he stupid?) and also that Jacob died/disappeared/whatever'd a while back (I should be better at keeping in touch). I 'm glossing over it because I'm still not totally sure how I feel about it and ignoring my emotions seems more prudent than addressing them for the time being.
I eventually made my way over to a table designed for adults where I then tuned out for like an hour before remembering I was supposed to be networking. I don't think I actually ended up succeeding at that. Well, maybe next time.
When I actually got back into mingling, the two speaking people at my table were a loud British guy called Zeke and Jimmy, from Russia. He's an angel now, I think. Zeke seemed to be trying to teach Jimmy slang, and Jimmy was almost learning it. They and I conversed for a bit before Zeke got pulled away to a kerfuffle relating to a large portion of people I did not end up talking to (who the fuck invites a child to a booze brunch?) and I moved tables once more.
I managed to listen in on a few more conversations and even greeted the dog (his name was Wally) before dipping out, but in retrospect I probably should have at least left some contact information around. Although, I'm not sure having my phone number on a piece of paper reading "Hitman for hire!" would go the best if a mundane came across it. I'm not very good at this surreptitious stuff.