( OPEN ) you believed in all your lies, didn't you

[godcards]

WHO: Malik Ishtar and Others (You!)
WHERE: Around, mostly in Freshens
WHEN: Mid to late April
WHAT: Malik is suffering the effects of the dreaded Magatus Mark
WARNINGS: Malik’s dubious mental health, teen angst, mentions of self injury in first prompt.


Magatus was disorienting in its newness. The blacking out that came after was more familiar to Malik than should be considered normal, but when he awoke and discovered that he hadn’t gone on another attempted murder spree and that things were relatively okay, he had ventured forth with a kinda-familiar person to see about getting rid of the new glowy mark on his skin.

He didn’t find the answer.

So he had left, huffing and pouting as he does, only to find that in the following days in returning to the city, the mark had started to spread. And sting. Like it wanted to remind him that it existed, and about the faint voices from the forest, whispering to him. He handled that the way he handled most other things: by ignoring it and hoping it went away. Like most other things, it didn’t go away, and it got worse.

ONE.
The mark had started on his forearm and had spread down towards his wrist. The glow was obnoxious, but not quite as bad as the sting. Malik had taken to picking at it, scrubbing it, and rubbed the skin red and raw. Still, the mark persisted. Even after wrapping it in bandaging (mostly to keep from ruining himself further), it still glowed.

He felt like people stared at him. Like they knew. Doesn’t matter where he was going or what he was doing, he couldn’t shake the feeling of silent persecution. It was really only a matter of time until he snapped at an unfortunate passerby:

“Stop looking at me!”


TWO.
Things continued to get worse. Malik found himself feeling ill and groggy. As completely wrong, delusional, and irrational he could be, he didn’t actually attribute this directly to the mark. More than he was getting sick in conjunction with being cursed. Being kicked while he was down, because that was definitely par for the course as far as he was concerned.

A simple illness requires a simple fix. Except with how tired and disconnected Malik felt, something as simple as getting cold medicine from the pharmacy inside of Freshens seemed a lot more arduous than it should be.

In fact, he doesn’t even know if he’s in the right aisle. Or the right store. Or the right plane of existence, as he stares blearily at children’s gummy vitamins.

Some of the store patrons plainly ignore him. Some get a bit unnerved. Because he just continues to stand there, unresponsive.


THREE.
The nightmare wasn’t over yet; in fact, you could say it was just beginning. A long, long series of nightmares. Everything Malik has been trying to push away, trying to ignore, hoping that it’ll solve itself and disappear on its own following him all hours of the day, beyond wakefulness and into his dreams. Everytime he drifted off, he had a nightmare. His cold was getting worse. The mark had spread further still. He was at rock bottom again, emotionally, despite making feeble attempts to put himself on the right path. However, he’s too exhausted, mentally and emotionally, to scream and tantrum about how unfair that is. He’s tired, he looks tired, as he zombie shuffles through Freshens, again, to get… something? Maybe? Out of his room, at least, so he doesn’t fall asleep again.

“Stupid… trees, stupid curse, stupid cold, stupid everything.” He repeats, several times as he goes up and down the grocery aisles. “They always want to make it my fault… I didn’t curse myself, it’s their fault.”

He picks a package of cheap, offbrand cookies from a nearby shelf and starts to tamper with the packaging. He’s unaware of anyone watching or scrutinizing his behavior. He keeps going, eating cookies as he does so: “Anytime I do anything, something goes wrong, that’s not my fault.”

In a stunning twist, he seems to recognize that people - at least one person - is watching him. This does not stop his cookie thievery, and instead he glowers, “The hell do you want?”


FOUR.
( choose your own adventure, or I’ll write something for you.)

Comments

[godcards]

It doesn't sound any less suspicious when you put it like that.

[ But I'm sure there's a bathroom in Freshens, so like, there you go. ]

[compendiem]

Mm... [ "I have a gun" is probably even more suspicious, and extremely alarming in context of wanting to find someplace out of the way and private, so Minato bites that back for now. ]

I honestly think it'll help. Promise I'll explain more fully in the bathroom. It's just something I don't want people to see.

[godcards]

[ Honestly if Minato wanted to offer death that would be like, not nearly as alarming as it sounds. Still, context is important here, and Malik is missing it. ]

I... don't know if I like the sound of this plan. You can't tell me here?

[compendiem]

[ Malik so willingly accepting death is a concern Minato does not want to know, thanks. He will dodge this question by admitting to a half-truth. ]

It involves summoning a giant bird and I don't want to mess up all the product displays around here. There's no room here.

[godcards]

[ Look. He is deeply cursed and suffering from it, just let him have this. ]

A giant bird...? It's not a big yellow one, is it?

[ This seems to get him to perk up a little. ]

Wait-- if there's no room in here, then how would the bathroom be big enough?

[compendiem]

Big, bright, yellow one. His name is Horus. And bathrooms don't have things that can fall and break and require me to pay for the damages.

[ It's honestly... yeah. The stupid "you break it you buy it" rule, and medication can get expensive so long as they're hanging around a pharmacy and not the bathroom that Minato edges encouragingly towards. ]

[godcards]

[ Malik is kinda awkwardly trudging along with him, but the mention of Horus seems to breath some semblance of life into him-- he still looks like shit, but now he's a more spirited pile of shit. ]

Horus? Like the god? Does he look anything like-- [ He's checking his hoodie and pants pockets, give him a minute. ]

This?

[ He holds up a card, which he was nerdy enough to buy a protective sleeve for. ]

[compendiem]

[ Minato blinks, unsure, for a moment, what he's looking at. There's the reluctance to immediately dash all of Malik's hopes and dreams to the ground, so he stalls, stringing him along with a contemplative hum as he continues trailing towards the bathroom. ]

Like the god, but... It's like staring directly into the sun, really hard to get a close look at him. He might be like that, under all the light?

[godcards]

[ The non-answer doesn't exactly help, but it doesn't really upset Malik as much as it would normally, either. ]

Well, I have Ra, so I don't expect Horus to be above him... but I just thought, if you had one too, that maybe...

[ Maybe, what? Minato has no idea about Malik's bone to pick with Retrospec, given all the "teehee Egyptian" things they've sent him over the course of a year. ]

Nevermind, forget I said anything.

[compendiem]

[ It's hard to forget about all of that when every other word piques Minato's interest and raises more questions. Malik has a card, but so does Souji and that's what the latter uses to summon. Is Ra another Persona? A more powerful one than Horus, who is admittedly one of Minato's stronger ones?

Maybe Malik would be more willing to talk about it after he sees Minato's Horus with his own eyes, so Minato shrugs his acceptance of the terms and pushes the door of the bathroom open, stooping down to check for feet underneath each stall like it's the most casual thing in the world. ]

Coast is clear. Anyways... Um... [ How to do this. ] The way I summon is kind of scary and messed up, so if you want to close your eyes or turn around...

[godcards]

[ Malik is back to staring blearily, his temporary burst of energy fizzled out and gone. ]

Can't be any worse than the things I've already seen.

[ So, no. He won't turn around. ]

[compendiem]

[ If he says so. Minato silently lifts the hem of his shirt to reveal the gun there, and takes it out of the holster. ]

I'm going to shoot myself in the head, okay?

[godcards]

What.

[ Give that a moment to sink in. ]

Wh-- No! I'll go to jail!

[compendiem]

No you won't. I'm the one pulling the trigger, so even if somebody walks in, it'll be fine.

[ It's fine, Malik, all the fingerprints will be Minato's and there is no way to implicate you. ]

[godcards]

The police hate me! [ He throws his arms up. There's still some bandages on his left, under his sleeve, from earlier in the month when he scratched himself up. ]

You're going to kill yourself and I'm going to get the blame for it, like I always do when it comes to-- messy situations like this!

[ He's torn between full blown anger and distress. This is A Lot. ]

[compendiem]

[ It's a lot, but it's actually going much better than the other dozens of times Minato's tried explaining the summoning process, altering his words slightly each time with little success in getting people to believe in him. This can still be salvageable.

Instead of engaging Malik in trying to assure him that he isn't trying to kill himself, he tries to show him: Minato points the gun at the ground and pulls the trigger. There's a click, but no gunshot. He pulls the trigger again- nothing. The same happens a third time, for good measure. ]

...It's not a real gun. There are no bullets to kill me.

[godcards]

[ That puts a stop in the wheel, so to speak. Now Malik is wound up with nowhere to go, like a freight train trying to stop; there's still momentum driving him forward, despite his best efforts. ]

Then why they hell are you saying you're going to shoot yourself for!

[compendiem]

I'm not the one who came up with this faulty design; this is just how it works. I have to shoot myself in the head, or else nothing happens.

[ He's tried— the hand, the foot, anyplace nonlethal... and all the lethal places too, like the heart. It's always the head, right up against his temple where he can see the barrel in his periphery. ]

[godcards]

Ugggrhgh. Fine. [ Malik rubs his hands over his face. ]

I'm leaving you here if you die, though.

[compendiem]

That's fine. I couldn't care less if I were dead.

[ ...That could have been worded differently. But permission has been granted, and Minato goes forward with bringing the gun up to his head— a flash of blue light on the opposite side like an exit wound, and then bright, blinding light in the form of a bird. ]

[godcards]

[ Well hey if that's how Minato feels.

Really though, with two consecutive bright lights filling the room, Malik covers his eyes - the faux carnage he watched passively, but now, he has an arm up to shield him from Horus' splendor. ]

Okay, so, what does this do exactly?

[compendiem]

[ It kills things, for the most part. That's what Personas are mainly used for, but he tends towards the healing aspect of the ones who have the spells. ]

Mediarahan.

[ It's a group healing spell, so Minato gets to enjoy the effects of it too, a warmth that settles about his body, limbs less heavy with fatigue and mind a little clearer for it too. Any cuts, scrapes, and bruises stitch themselves up together, and he can breathe slightly better. All of this comes at a cost of being spiritually drained in Minato's case, but it's like riding a second wind: he feels great. ]

[godcards]

[ This is new, this is not anything near what Malik was expecting- even though he wasn't sure what exactly to expect from a big glowing bird. He does feel better, though; his tension headache receding, the old scratches on his arm disappearing, all in all feeling more lucid and aware.

He feels good enough that he does pull back some of the bandages to check- and yes, his skin is healed, but the mark remains. He can't help but scowl. ]

I don't know what you did, but it didn't fix everything.

[compendiem]

[ He lets Horus fade away as soon as the spell is finished being cast, with no point of keeping it around and continuing to blind them. ]

That's why I called it a bandaid. Masking the problem without fixing it. I don't think it's poison, or else I could try curing that... so this is the best I can do for now. Anything you buy on the shelves would be the same, probably. Taking the pain away three times a day or whatever the dosing schedule is.

[godcards]

But then how do I... [ He glances down at his arm. The mark has spread further since he first got it, sure, but it started there. Like he's looking at the source of his woes instead of some unrelated tendril. ]

This. How do I get rid of this?!

[ He finally shows Minato, pulling his sleeve up to show his left arm covered turquoise-blue mark. It seems to glow softly, even as it sneaks up and around his arm to his shoulder, casting eerie light through the fabric. ]