October 28th

Alastar

Alastar wasn’t sure what time it was, but he was sure as he examined the interface that much time had passed. Perhaps it was the little clock in the corner that he kept absently checking, finding minutes or even hours seemingly disappeared, maybe it was the itchy feeling of Vajra inside of him recovering who seemed relatively comforted by this situation, or perhaps it was just the sense of the world he was getting.

The museum was alive. Alastar didn’t know how he knew it but it was there. The interface didn’t outright say it, but when he connected with it the museum whispered into his head. Not like telepathy, but more like the feeling he had of Vajra. Sure Vajra could speak to him, but subsumed inside his body like this there was a sensation of the fox inside him, just a presence that was always there. At first he’d thought it had just been the mental feeling of the tail, ears, and especially the cute little whiskers. All of which were incredibly sensitive to his non-magical mind. However, in this interface with the dungeon he was disconnected from his body, and yet still felt Vajra inside his… mind? Or perhaps even soul?

The interface with the museum wasn’t complete, and Alastar knew that it would take an acceptance. He’d spent the last few hours examining options, but he couldn’t select any of them until he and the museum bonded… It was obviously something intimate, and something he couldn’t easily do again. Something would have to change for this ability to allow him to do more, he knew it, it was asking if he was sure.

And yet, Alastar was sure. This was the most important place in his life, the rock upon which he’d always been grounded. He’d been optimistically looking at this museum and wishing to work here, write about here, and wishing he could live here for years. The apocalypse, with all of it’s pain and suffering, had managed to give him something of a dream come true. Now here he was, mentally linked with the building itself, and he just had to accept the bond. So, with a mental feeling of ascent, he did.

Acceptance wasn’t only his to give however. There was another being that needed to accept this connection, one that was far older and yet also far younger than Alastar himself. If the museum had been claimed earlier this wouldn’t be a problem, if it had been claimed later it would instead be dealing with the monster that had taken control, this was a unique situation where the museum itself was essentially being asked to accept its own transformation, its own ownership.

This. Is. Acceptable.

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This was a mental voice, just like the one Alastar had with Vajra. However, unlike Vajra, it was incredibly slow. Each word enunciated within Alastar’s mind like a kid trying to chant words from anime in a large cave.

You’re saying that from experience aren't you. Vajra asked cheekily, obviously peeking in on Alastar’s consciousness.

“You can’t prove anything.” Alastar said, a grin covering his face. The grin only grew wider as the Museum’s acceptance was registered and he became completely bonded with the dungeon itself. It was an intimate feeling, like a hug from a giant, or a kiss from a god.

Perhaps I could have chosen better.

“Yeah, maybe, but you do what you can with what you’ve got. And what you have is a big fan.” Alastar said, cheerily. “This interface, is it alright if I start the changes that are needed?” Alastar asked. With the feeling of ascent from the dungeon he clicked the accept button and felt the magic swell up. The whole of the museum, including some of its grounds, started to grow back and clean itself up. He could hear it, see it notified on his monitor, but couldn’t see it directly.

“There’s something missing about this remoteness. I know I’ve imagined this moment for decades, there is an odd amount of accuracy in the fiction of my youth, but I imagined I’d do more. Especially when I am directing a literal dungeon, made of and in the shape of my favorite place in the world, to clean after people left. This is not what I expected at all.”

Perhaps you weren't reading books quite right. There are several I have seen glimpses of in your memory where the day is saved by oddly easy to grasp dungeon mechanics, or simply well planned logistics.

“Are you trying to keep me from doing something stupid by reminding me of the Realist Hero anime?”

Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to make sure you don’t end up crushed up and sending me back into my homeworld.

“Well, you’e all aliens to me, I may be the odd one out, but still.” With a sigh he watched as a room was set aside for his purposes. It was once an office, but he’d taken some pieces of equipment and some sleeping bags that had been left behind, creating a sleeping nook. “Frankly, I want to sleep. Please do keep me informed of anything dire.” He said, directing his attention to the dungeon museum.

Yes. I shall. Sleep.

Alastar grinned, bedding down in the soft pile of bedding. He could have done some of this days ago, but he hadn’t thought about the mountain of bedding that was right below his feet. It didn’t help his giddyness that he’d been brought the blanket by what he was 90% sure was a skeleton. He wasn’t certain if he’d accidentally created dinosaur spartoi, if another exhibit was walking around, or if he’d created the strangest monsters. Still, anything to keep his eyes off the massacre that was almost certainly happening outside the bounds of the museum.

Finally Alastar fell asleep, drifting into sleep as he felt the world cradle him and the energy of his familiar do the same. It was so comforting, the soft but easily escapable womb of a dungeon created by his own longing. He was asleep within minutes.