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[dies_irate]

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[dies_irate]

He remembers Addison.

He remembers being in the dark, in the mine. He remembers the first thing Arthur insisted they do was shake hands. And he remembers feeling silly... but also the great relief, feeling Arthur's hand in his own.

He extends the tentacle to coil gently around the extended pseudopod.

[I don't either. Not entirely.

The only recommendation I have is to act from hope, and not from fear.]

A breath out.

[I don't want to fight you. Please don't make me.]

[howtheyshine]

He stretches out another couple of limbs to gently explore John's own.

[ I don't know how to not be afraid. ] Somehow it's easier to say that after whatever broke to make him say the rest of it. [ I- ]

[ I don't want to fight. ] For one thing- [ I'm bad at it. ]

Something in the invisible center of his feelings starts to crumble and he can't tell if it's a good or bad falling apart.

[ You're so beautiful and strong. ]

[dies_irate]

John sends a couple of little tendrils in return, gently offering, coiling and sliding soft over Yellow's.

[ I didn't say 'don't be afraid'. I'm afraid a lot of the time too. ]

That... isn't easy to say. Vulnerability isn't something he's easily shared with people. But Noel had done his work in being a Second Person. And this Yellow...

This Yellow hurt him. And hurt Noel. But doesn't... want to. That has to matter. It has to matter, because otherwise it wouldn't matter for him. And it has to.

Yellow's words hit him somewhere in his center mass, somewhere between that handshake in the mines and Arthur calling him 'undefeated'. He doesn't feel like those words are him, that they describe him. They feel like there's something around him that's too tight.

[ Yellow is a beautiful color. ] is what he finally says back to that. [ And strength isn't not being afraid. It's being afraid... and doing what you need to do anyway. ]

[howtheyshine]

He doesn't know what to say to John calling yellow a beautiful color. He doesn't know if he believes that definition of strength. The doubt is incredibly obvious, but he at least doesn't voice it.

[ You're not really going to replace me, are you? ]

[dies_irate]

[ I can't. People aren't replaceable.] His tone is wry. [ That's why Arthur was upset at you. Not because there's anything wrong with you. ]

A deep breath. Might as well cover it just in case.

[ And I don't want to anyway. I want to be me. Not you. ]

[howtheyshine]

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Put like that, said like that, it--

Oh.

It's like someone trying to be Sally, or Gwen. Or pretending to be FarmJohn. Yellow feels sick at the idea of any one of them being hurt, or lost, but imagining trying to get them back and getting someone else--

There's a few stunned seconds of silence, and then he carefully shapes the human form he's mostly been using. He's still sitting on the street, but he's at least... himself-looking, now. Both hands pressed gently against John's outstretched arm, a few shadowy tentacles still touching John like he might evaporate.

"I don't want to hurt anyone." He doesn't know much, but he knows that. "I don't want to end up with Larson. I want to stay here."

[dies_irate]

John's not evaporating. The only thing really going on inside his head is that he's solidifying the fact that he's never telling Yellow what happened after the Dreamlands. He doesn't need that.

But he is going to stare a little at seeing Yellow look...

Huh. Not something he'd thought of. He probably should have, but that would also involve knowing what he'd look like and he can't even imagine himself like... that. So it's a thought that'll get put into the back of his head as he remains as he is.

"Hopefully, you can." A breath out. "He seemed like a rat bastard. And the people here seem better."

[howtheyshine]

It's small and stupid and a version of a mannerism he's accidentally adopted from Gwen, but Yellow leans forward to rest his forehead on John's arm.

"They're all... nice. They've all been kind, even- even before I-" It's embarrassing. "Even when I was an asshole."

Just like John was kind when he got here, and Yellow was an asshole then.

He strokes the fingertips of both hands over this being that was part of him, or that he was part of, and marvels a little at that. "I'm still an asshole. But I'm... trying not to be. I was trying not to be."

"Do you think Arthur will... Do you think he still wants to trust me?"

[dies_irate]

"That makes two of us," he notes, voice wry. But he takes the question a little more seriously.

"As for Arthur, I think he does, yes." He remembers Arthur apologizing, and while he had directed it at him in the end, he didn't think it was all for him. Arthur had heard Yellow's voice, his pain, the same as he could. And they'd been on opposite sides, but he does't think Arthur blamed Yellow for that. Larson had brought out the worst in him, twisted his pain into the worst version of... them.

"Though I'm not a 'pet'," and his tone is a little flat, because seriously? Seriously? "And you should probably apologize."

[howtheyshine]

He winces. "To you or him?"

Both, kid, the answer is both.

[dies_irate]

"...what do you think?"

[howtheyshine]

Sally's exasperation at other things in his proximity has gotten Yellow to stop flinching most of the time when someone sounds irritated. In this particular moment, with how raw everything feels, he still manages not to cringe. Just brace himself a little and make a slow guess.

"...You and him?"

[dies_irate]

"It wouldn't hurt, no," is all he's going to say there.

You know.

Since you've been kind of a dick, Yellow.

When he was a dick, he apologized.

[howtheyshine]

He can't look at John when he says it, and he also goes very very red, but Yellow mumbles, "I'm sorry."

[dies_irate]

"Apology accepted," says John, distinctly not looking at Yellow. Just past him. But his expression (what there is of one) is mild.

[howtheyshine]

He climbs slowly to his feet, still red and still not quite looking at John, but all at once--

"Do you want to meet my dog?"

[dies_irate]

There's a sound like he's about to speak before he reconsiders.

"...is he gonna- I mean-

"I won't freak him out, will I?"

[howtheyshine]

That earns John a baffled look. "No, why would you?"

[dies_irate]

Some of the grump returns, but it's just as clearly not about Yellow.

"I don't know! You look like that. I don't."

[howtheyshine]

Oh.

Something else starts to register. John is-- he might be, maybe-- it's possible John might be self-conscious too.

The human face vanishes like smoke, body going opaque and swirling into a long cloak in changing shades of yellow. The cracked and piecemeal mask under its hood mostly hides an interstellar darkness. The tentacles are sometimes black, sometimes coming from under and around the hem of the cloak, sometimes tinted yellow and coming from the edges of the cloth itself. After a second, he figures out how to scale it up again, roughly matching John's height.

"I-I didn't look like that... when I got here. Not all the time. I had to work hard to make myself look human, and it still slipped sometimes."

[dies_irate]

John's going to be quiet for a moment, listening, before-

"How did you- that is, why is it that you look like that?" A pause before he clarifies. "I mean, how did you choose to have, I don't know, brown hair or a nose that shape or eyes that color?"

[howtheyshine]

Existential crisis incoming in 3, 2...

"I don't... know." He hadn't thought about it actually. Just like he hadn't thought about where his body came from in the first place, when Arthur asked. He lifts several tentacles to stare at them like they're palms. Like he can read some answers there. "I..."

Why that shape? It just felt right. It was a shape the matter remembered, with touches of Arthur's physicality changing what was already there. It was Larson's body, once, or the cells that made it were his, and they have their own strange kind of memory.

Not that Yellow knows that.

"I'm not sure."

[dies_irate]

Which makes one question what, exactly, John's is made of. He certainly doesn't know. He's just glad this seems to be working and he's not going to question it.

"So it can look like anything. O-or anyone."

John doesn't frown, because he can't really frown, but there's the feeling of a frown. It's obvious he'll think about it.

"I should probably adopt some sort of human looking appearance. If only so that people don't mistake me for a monster."

That had definitely happened a time or two. There's a reason he kept a shopping basket looped on one arm. It's because monsters don't usually do the shopping. Though he'll have to go retrieve that now...

[howtheyshine]

Yellow hesitates, pulled from his train of thought and back into the moment, then clears his currently nonexistent throat.

"I can. Stay this way too. While you figure it out. So people get used to it more."

[dies_irate]

He shakes his head.

"That's not necessary. You should look how you normally look here. That way, if someone freaks out, you can explain that I don't intend to harm anyone." A sigh. "I'll figure something out soon."