The Pathologic Round-Robin Story Collab!

[maximumhusky]

OKAY. This is a Round-Robin type of collaborative fiction! Continue writing where one person left off, but feel free to continue in your own manner. Make long entries, short entries, serious entries, comedic entries, etc., Collaborate with others to create a grand, cohesive story, or hijack it to make your own masterpiece! WARNING: All posts are canon.

Preferably make posts anonymously out of tradition, but I guess there's no harm in being logged in if you have an account?

LINKS:

Pathologic Prompt Meme: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/825.html
Pathologic Round-Robin: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/654.html
Pathologic Kink Meme (nsfw): https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1201.html
Contact me here if you have any questions!: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1347.html

Comments

OH HO

[(Anonymous)]

Khan looks up, back towards where the Polyhedron should stand, and can't help but feel a little skeptical about that conclusion. "Do you dream of bees and blood, Bachelor Dankovsky?" he asks, wryly. "Because the Tower is a place of dreams, a place where dreams can exist upon our mortal plane. Nightmares and dreams alike...that wasn't how it was designed to be, but that's what I made it into."

Uncle Simon and Mother had both had different interpretations of what the Polyhedron could be used for, but Khan had known they were both wrong, when it came down to it. He was the one who'd walked its steps and understood its secrets.

Daniil's so dreamy~~ Like literally. It's kinda horrifying, actually. Help.

[(Anonymous)]

"Do I dream of blood, you ask? As a doctor, of course. Many times." Bachelor Dankovsky said. "Now, bees? Never. I just suppose that perhaps my mind is interpreting the unknown droning noise I've been hearing increasingly in the back of my mind into the more mundane source. And expelling the results out of me, like an illness. Maybe it's better that my subconscious chose bees. Who knows what could've come out of me instead." Dankovsky chuckled, but its falseness irritated Khan.

"Why exactly are you here, Dankovsky?" Khan asked. "Dreams made manifest... Is that why you've come back? To pick through the rubble of the Polyhedron for clues and cures?"

"If it comes down to it, yes. Ever heard of getting the hair of the dog that bit you? It might be superstition, but superstition is all I have left it seems. There's nothing else I can think of that might be the cause of this. I've exhausted all other options." Dankovsky said with a distant look in his eyes.

Khan was silent for a moment. He wasn't too sure how much of the Dankovsky he knew from before was still there, or if he was talking to a desperate shell of his former self.

"You haven't visited Burakh, have you? If you're so willing to try your options, you should probably go visit the best doctor in town." Khan turned away from Dankovsky's strange gaze, to think. "...Please, Dankovsky. He'd be more than willing to help you." Khan said at last.

Dankovsky's eyes looked in the sky above the chasm. The Polyhedron was there, at one point in time, a fixed one. The memory of climbing up its steps was potent in his mind, though the time had long past Dankovsky. He felt faint, but he considered Khan's words. "If he's at the usual spot, then maybe I will."

Dankovsky turned to leave. Khan heard the echo of his footsteps, but when he turned around to see him, Dankovsky was already out of sight.