[The words rang familiar in Chilton's mind, deep in the recesses of memory, concerning the subconscious battle between this fabricated self, and his natural memories. Sodium amytal. Familiar.
But in the forefront of his cortex, he could not recall. That battlefield was already seized by the god of dreams.]
This serum can open that gateway? You know this to be true? [Well, he was willing to try anything.] Then that is what we shall do.
[Noble, desperate knight seems a little perkier this time around. A vain god could assume it was because he had finally managed to find a way to serve said vain god. It...wouldn't be the first time a man who thought he was a god had come under a similar impression, but that's not something Will Graham likes to dwell on, okay.]
I know this to be true, as someone who's been under its influence. [Where is his bag of crappy gas station popcorn, why did they stuff the food in the back, it's so far to reach.] The Oracle of Tattlecrime and I should be back in your city [gotta feed that ego] this time tomorrow, perhaps even before. We can see it done then, if you would like.
[That's what he thinks. No one expects the De Chima lightning storm.]
[It's like they're living a comedy of errors! Or a tragedy of lightning -- rather than the tragedy of lighting they're so used to.]
My city. [He likes that.] Would welcome you, of course. Especially considering your tendency towards sacrifice. [Direct quotation from his scripture.] That comes from your long experience with isolation.
[The worst lighting that ever did grace modern television. Prayer circle for all icon makers everywhere.
Ugh. Ugh! There's a part of Will tempted to ask for more from this scripture, curious, but that's a bit much. He'd "sold out" to Chilton before, might as well go the whole nine yards. Hook, line, and sinker. Swallow any feelings about what just came out of Chilton's mouth and continue on like this is just normal conversation between the two of them, nothing out of the ordinary going on here!]
We'll be there as soon as possible. [Even the best laid plans to possibly drug one's former psychiatrist can be torn asunder. It's not like a godly Frederick Chilton could do too much damage on his own to anything but his reputation, right?] Anything else you wanted to ask while you have me, or is that all?
[Where did that gross sweaty clammy feeling on his palms come from.]
This shall do. [He says, his way of godly dismissal. Of course, whatever momentary finality seems communicated in his words, it's more an illusion than anything else; Chilton will most certainly discuss Will Graham, his martyr-knight, to anyone who's unfortunate enough to hit earshot range.]
If all goes well, you soon will find me in your dreams.
[Glad to end on a creepy note, compliments of Chilton still having that Chiltony foundation, implanted memories or no.]
[Dude no. Sir please why no. Like hole-in-the-face Chilton doesn't pop up in his dreams enough as is, those are his parting words? He's so thrown by that creepy note (does he know, is it coincidence????) that he can't bring himself to give more than a half hum, half grunt in reply. He's...not even sure if it went through, but knights are supposed to surly, right? That fits, right?
It's just fine that Chilton ends up discussing his martyr-knight to anyone within earshot, because Will Graham and Freddie Lounds are about to partake in a mutual griping session about Frederick Chilton, full stop. Maybe they'll even laugh at the idea of him cursing Freddie to get lightning fried. Confused sad laughter surrounded by veggie crisps and other meatless convenience store junk food.
Frederick Chilton totally never called out significant events before they happened back in Baltimore or anything, haha, oh wait, but no, it's different! No need to take his weird god talk right now to heart, haha—
no subject
But in the forefront of his cortex, he could not recall. That battlefield was already seized by the god of dreams.]
This serum can open that gateway? You know this to be true? [Well, he was willing to try anything.] Then that is what we shall do.
no subject
I know this to be true, as someone who's been under its influence. [Where is his bag of crappy gas station popcorn, why did they stuff the food in the back, it's so far to reach.] The Oracle of Tattlecrime and I should be back in your city [gotta feed that ego] this time tomorrow, perhaps even before. We can see it done then, if you would like.
[That's what he thinks. No one expects the De Chima lightning storm.]
no subject
My city. [He likes that.] Would welcome you, of course. Especially considering your tendency towards sacrifice. [Direct quotation from his scripture.] That comes from your long experience with isolation.
I anticipate this serum.
no subject
Ugh. Ugh! There's a part of Will tempted to ask for more from this scripture, curious, but that's a bit much. He'd "sold out" to Chilton before, might as well go the whole nine yards. Hook, line, and sinker. Swallow any feelings about what just came out of Chilton's mouth and continue on like this is just normal conversation between the two of them, nothing out of the ordinary going on here!]
We'll be there as soon as possible. [Even the best laid plans to possibly drug one's former psychiatrist can be torn asunder. It's not like a godly Frederick Chilton could do too much damage on his own to anything but his reputation, right?] Anything else you wanted to ask while you have me, or is that all?
[Where did that gross sweaty clammy feeling on his palms come from.]
no subject
If all goes well, you soon will find me in your dreams.
[Glad to end on a creepy note, compliments of Chilton still having that Chiltony foundation, implanted memories or no.]
no subject
It's just fine that Chilton ends up discussing his martyr-knight to anyone within earshot, because Will Graham and Freddie Lounds are about to partake in a mutual griping session about Frederick Chilton, full stop. Maybe they'll even laugh at the idea of him cursing Freddie to get lightning fried. Confused sad laughter surrounded by veggie crisps and other meatless convenience store junk food.
Frederick Chilton totally never called out significant events before they happened back in Baltimore or anything, haha, oh wait, but no, it's different! No need to take his weird god talk right now to heart, haha—
—SON OF A BITCH!!!]