milliways_bar | The Real Slim Timmy!

Entry tags:

tim hunter

The Real Slim Timmy!

((OOM: Concerning incarceration, and Oops.))

The front door slams open. Oddly, instead of bouncing back and hitting the person who slammed it like it should, it just stays against the wall. Maybe it understands.

In the door itself, there is a figure outlined in blue flames, his black clothes as normal. Even the red tie. Behind sunglasses, a darker blue glow blazes. His hands are clenched as he walks forward, each foot carefully placed. It should be noted that the blazing aura is doin g no damage whatsoever.

But Tim is a little bit ticked off at having been held hostage by figments of his imagination for well over two months.

Come let him know he's been missed, maybe?

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"Are you? I -" she tugs apprehensively on a the edges of her hair, fingers tangling themselves in the curls.

The same - but not at all.

"Y-yes," she replies, feeling small and skittish - out of her depth. "I am Lethe."

He frowns slightly.

"You met another me?"

"I think so -" she blinks, eyes darting down to her lap and voice almost apologetic.

"H-he bought me Green Eggs and Ham," she glances up cautiously before looking down once more, hair shading her eyes. "I did not mean to trouble you though."

A warm smile crosses his face.

"It is no bother. Would you tell me of him?"

That gets a small, cautious smile in return. "He was m-my friend - I think."

She pauses for a moment, as if waiting for someone to protest, before she continues. "He was nice to me, even after he found out about the river - and he knew how to make the water fix things!" Another pause and the tentative smile widens slightly. "He gave me a hug and made me laugh and - and he did not mind that I d-do not know a lot of things."

She cuts herself off then, catching up to herself and ducking her head, embarrassed - she is generally not the sort to ramble.

"Huh..."

That's a new one. A Tim that's not him, that's well liked?

"And...he was a good guy?"

"I think so," the reply is simple, but true.

Lethe doesn't really know how to lie.

He takes a seat, leaning back and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"That makes things more difficult now, then, doesn't it?"

"Why is that?"

She leans forward slightly - eyes timidly concerned - he looks troubled and although she's not quite certain how this whole thing works, she is pretty sure that she can be worried for him and that he is still her friend.

Well, at least she thinks so.

He gestures slightly, and there is a cup of something strong in his hand.

"Can I get you anything?"

He sips his own drink.

"Because, if he were evil, I could just kill him and be done with it. Since he is not, I actually have to be nice about this."

"You do not have to," she answers politely, shaking her head. "I am fine."

A startled sort of blink, and she leans back once more - edges of her blurring momentarily in surprise. "W-why would you have to do that?"

"It is how I have always dealt with my creations."

He says it so casually, this older Tim.

All of the nerves that had eased before are back with a vengeance and she seems somehow smaller - arms curling in closer and eyes wavering someplace between green and blue.

"I -" she says, and even her voice is small. "I d-do not understand."

"The other one.... it isn;t the same me."

He holds up two fingers.

"Two different people. I created him, with my magic. By accident."

And there is an unfamiliar spark of anger in her eyes - a bright, vivid green. "Yes, that much I understand. You feel different and I am n-not a fool."

Her voice is slow now, the slight blur about her the only indication of her nervousness. While she may be shy and childish she is still a nymph - and she has lived through much more intimidating things.

"Life should not be taken so lightly - that is not fair. He was a good person."

"Still is. Not dead yet."

He strokes his chin.

"But he's not alive exactly either. He isn't real, you see."

"Who decides that?" she asks, the green slowly simmering. "What is real?"

"There are many places where I am not believed in," a slow, inquisitive blink. "Does that mean that I am not real either?"

He throws up his hands.

"No, you're still real. He, however, was created by my magic, as a defense reflex to avoid my own pain. Not even by purpose. He's the magical equivalent of a sneeze!"

"Fine then," comes the reply, steady and calm - to Lethe yelling is more of a usual occurrence then any sort of kindness is.

"You do not have to be so angry about it. Then just know that your magic makes good things sometimes. Even if they are an accident."

A pause. "I will go if I am causing you frustration, sir."

A wave of the hand.

"No, no stay. I'm sorry, I get frudtrated rather easily when dealing with things I cannot control."

Lethe relaxes slightly, not really one for getty angry, much less staying that way. It makes her feel off - unpleasant.

"I apologize for being rude - I am not usually so troublesome."

Her eyes shift back to a quiet, wary blue, "You will not k-kill him then - will you?"

A shake of the head.

"No, sadly, I will not."

She blinks, confused. Lethe, admittedly, has a tendency to think of death as a bad, undesirable sort of thing.

"Why is that a sad thing?" she hastily pushes back the spark of green, remaining merely curious. "I should think that being alive would be good - it is what most people want, I have found."

"But he is not."

A faint shrug.

"I duno. This whole situation is confusing."

"So I am learning," she admits. "I have not met two people who are the same person before."

She uncurls herself a bit more, nose scrunching on one side as she pieces things together. "You are the o-original you then?"

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