IC Inbox for Ryslig

[certaininequities]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, DR_OSBORN.

FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 243.720.373.632

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<DR_OSBORN> You've reached Dr. Norman Osborn.
<DR_OSBORN> Please leave a message: I'll respond as promptly as possible.

Other Handles:
[Back2Formula] regular anon * [Pierglass] trolling anon * [LutinVert] Goblin/Alton Mode * [EpigaeaMemoriam] Support Group anon

Comments

our taste, it is good, yes

[certaininequities]

I've half a mind to write you one anyway, just to know what Steven's reaction to it would be.

Of course Otto's coming. I don't think he'd miss a chance to see you all off even if he was stuck as a nymph out on the lakeshore. He'd find a way: you're the son he always wanted, after all.

[heyunderoos]

A lot of confusion probably, that feels about right. Maybe he'd keep it as the first permission slip he ever got?

I'm glad both of you are coming. It feels nice. Like hearing that is still nice too.

[certaininequities]

Ha! Like new businesses and dollar bills! You might be right.

You're the son I always wanted, too, you know. Just so you're clear.

[heyunderoos]

Maybe it can be framed next to their first artifact found or something.

I appreciate it. Just as long as I don't... make you feel like I'm replacing your actual son, you know?

[certaininequities]

[he's smiling right up until the bottom goes put from under him, like the first big drop of a rollercoaster. Peter gets to wait through a long pause. He had just been about to type "I don't have a son" - but then - why had he been so angry about - why was there a -

Norman freezes in terror as he grasps for memories he knows are rooted in things that happened. Galas. Company picnics. His Peter's graduation. Waking up on the floor to Bernard and - and - who? It was like someone had taken a bad eraser to his mind, and places weren't gone, only smudged. When he finally types again, it's terse more because his hands are shaking than anything else]

Peter, I can't remember him.

[heyunderoos]

[Peter just kind of stares at the message a lot longer than he probably should, wondering what to even say.]

You don't remember him? Not even a little? You told me his name is Harry.

[certaininequities]

[possibly the most terrifying thing, for Norman, is that even reading the message, there's no flash of recognition. no 'oh, right, HARRY, how silly of me'. there's just ... numbness, like a nerve that's been deadened.]

It's so strange. I'm trying. I can see places ... things that happened ... where he should be. But any time I try to focus on him ... I just can't. Like he's always at the corner of my mind's eye.

... What else did I tell you?

[heyunderoos]

Did it happen from the last time you died?

Not a lot. You always seemed kinda sad when he came up, so I never pried.

I just know...

[Peter lays out what he does remember Norman telling him. It genuinely isn't a lot to go off of but it is something at least.]