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The presence of hunger was heavy and uncomfortable. It was something the silent Demolitionist had grown familiar with in the recent months- not used to, no, nor even fine with. The weight of hunger was not something one became used to or okay with.
Perhaps the only comfort was the darkness.
Taph was familiar with darkness. It was something they had often escaped to, when they were little, and it remained a soothing presence even now. They only wished the circumstances had remained harmless. Only wished the situation had not changed.
"There you are! Phew, thought your mother would have my head..."
Being found, then, had been harmless.
Now being found meant death.
This wasn't anything Taph had thought would happen, not like this... never like this. Taph never thought they'd be unable to even step out of their house for a mere moment. Never, never. This was nothing that seemed plausible.
Was it privilege?
Maybe it was.
Taph knew, now, what privilege was. The difference of having it and lacking it.
Before, danger was never present. Their family granted them a net of safety just by the nature of their name and duties. And now the net had been removed sharply with akin blood, furious words, and angry headlines.
"I miss them too."
But back to before. Thinking and dreaming of before was all Taph did now, when they were not checking wires and spring-snap jaws of steel, or counting cans, or measuring out meager samples of water that were collected by spouts drilled into the walls. The memories was what kept them counting and checking and hoping.
"B, meet Taph."
The young child remained standing beside their father. Little talons were curled into his sweatpants- a clothing item chosen due to the colder weather, instead of the usual shorts- and a hidden gaze was burrowing into the man standing ahead.
He was a kind man, really. They knew as such. Mamma and papa had reassured them of the fact and they had eavesdropped enough to be personally certain.
Taph had no reason to be afraid.
And yet, for the oddest of reasons, they were anyway.
Mr. Builderman was looking at them. He had to be aware of their stare, but did not seem offended, so they figured it was okay.
His lips upturned in a faint smile. "Hello there." His voice was gentle, too, and it was a curious thing to notice, but they noticed it regardless. They also noticed how papa's wing nudged their back faintly and they raised their hand in a greeting. It was a gesture that Builderman faintly mimicked and returned with a raise of his fingers.
"They don't speak much." Papa added. It was like an explanation, the way he said it, especially when he paused for a moment before tacking on, "And by 'much,' I mean not at all. They know some sign language though." Then, his familiar gaze was turning down towards Taph. He was grinning at them. They smiled back even if they doubted he could see it. "And they don't even use that sometimes! Real mysterious, this one, but a good kid."
Memories liked to linger.
At first, when Taph began to hide, the memories had made them cry- but now? Now, they were the thing that kept Taph afloat. Memories were a safety vest of comfort and a silent show for their eyes alone. Taph had found out quickly that memories were the only thing they had left.
Memories were the only thing that could not be taken away.
Taph kept their memories close.
It was quiet.
In all actuality, though, Taph shouldn't be here... technically.
Papa would be worried if he noticed them missing. Mamma would be upset, too. It wasn't like Taph wanted to worry them though! Really, they didn't, they really really didn't want to, but that didn't change the fact that they might.
The offices were quiet and dark now. It made sense. The people working there had long since went home, and were likely sleeping.
Taph was supposed to be sleeping.
Mamma and papa would likely be upset that they weren't sleeping right now.
Taph wasn't even sure why they had come here. If they were sad, they should've gone to mamma, or papa, or even just back to sleep, but instead they had come to the office that was situated a short walk down the street.
But why?
...Taph wasn't sure.
It wasn't so quiet.
Taph heard it, the rustling of fabric, but they hadn't cared for it. Part of them wanted to just think it was the handed-down cloak they had tugged on before leaving the house.
They should've known better.
Taph's gaze barely caught the faint glow, warm and faintly familiar, reflecting subtly, but they didn't want to raise their head to investigate. They only sniffled pitifully and buried their face in their arms.
They were sitting on the floor. They were in a hallway, facing the glass that overlooked the city, with their legs drawn up close to their chest and their arms crossed over their knees, and a cloak drowning out the chill and sounds, and the entire world failing to be fully drowned out.
Taph's wings twitched as they heard the sound of movement.
It was close, now, and they forced themself to look up, and nearly startled at the sight of a figure with the head of a pumpkin.
The figure froze at their gaze.
A beat of silence. And then Taph was turning their head away, bringing a hand up to drag it under their eye, and after a couple seconds the figure was moving again.
Slow.
Taph could figure out who it was. They weren't dumb. They had seen pictures and heard stories, first, and even saw the man from hiding places, and even met him once when mamma had brought them into work.
He went by 'Dusekkar.' Taph knew it wasn't his real name, they knew it wasn't because they had caught glimpses of documents about him and the name there was too short to match, but he hadn't told them what it was- nor had anyone- so it ultimately didn't matter. It didn't matter at all.
It was silent, beyond barely contained sniffles, and it was dark, and Taph wanted to crawl back into bed.
Why had they come here?
Truly, there was no real purpose to coming here. There wasn't anything comforting or soothing to naturally be found. Nobody and nothing was in this office in the night.
"Taph, right?"
The voice was low. It was a calm kind of low, when someone was trying to be quiet and unassuming and didn't want to be seen as a threat.
Taph peeked at Dusekkar, then, and he was watching them with quiet eyes. Taph knew he was looking for confirmation. Words always failed, so they nodded instead. It seemed to be the right answer since Dusekkar spoke soon after. "Dusekkar," the man said. "I'm a friend of your father. Does he know you're here?"
Taph half didn't want to admit it.
Because if they did, they'd probably be expected to explain, but they didn't know how to explain. Even if they did know the words? Their voice was caught harshly in their throat. Their hands didn't want to move.
Instead of anything productive, they forced themself to make a warbled and muffled noise. It was stuck between a chirp and a whine and was horribly choked.
A hand rested on their back gently. Taph dropped their gaze, though they weren't sure if it was shame, guilt, or something else. Dusekkar didn't pester them on what it was. At least they were sure that fact was a relief.
"He'll be worried. Your mother will be, too."
Taph didn't respond.
Dusekkar kept speaking. "I'm glad you at least think it's safe here. It's good to have multiple safe spaces- it means you'll have less opportunities to feel unsafe. I'm also quite glad I was here, as well." Taph glanced sideways at the man and he was still watching them. "It's not always good to be alone when you are upset. Sometimes it helps to be around people."
Perhaps this was the punishment.
Punishment for years of silence, where worried parents wondered when their child would finally speak. Where others had to learn how to talk without a mouth so that they could hear the one that hid in their father's old cloak. It hadn't been fair to any of those people and now Taph could not apologize through actions or a wrongful voice.
It was too late. Too late to apologize, too late to make up for anything, too late to see, too late to hear, too late to speak, too late to be seen, too late to say goodbye.
Taph could not do anything about that fact.
Again, it was too late to do anything about it. They could only picture what it might have been like. Would the people they loved have been proud?
Their mother, surely, would have been glad. She would have smiled widely and tried to not show how excited she was. Have tried not to make it seem like a big deal so that she would not spook away her own child. Their father definitely would've been a different story. He would've made his joy much more clear, with a hand on their head and fingers carding through their hair. He would probably lean in closer to catch any other sounds of a voice and his smile would've grown wider with each word.
Their sibling would have also been glad. Not excited, Taph did not think excited fit anything to do with 1x1x1x1, but they would have smiled and perhaps made a comment. They would have not fully seen why anyone else would make a big deal out of anything to do with speech.
Taph likes to think that Builderman would be pleased, too, and he would've smiled. Dusekkar would've been quietly thrilled. That one would want to have conversations, to finally properly hear what the feathered Robloxian thought, but wouldn't have dared to press the issue- he would've let Taph take it slow.
Doombringer would certainly have been pleased. He liked to seem so tough, so menacing, they knew so from the descriptions and pictures and public appearances, but Taph had seen him outside of those frames- when he noticed someone struggling and he helped without another word. Taph could remember Doombringer too. They liked those memories.
The vending machine was tall and Taph was alone.
Usually mamma wouldn't leave them alone, but she had made sure to give them a lanyard and made sure it was obvious that Taph was allowed. It had mamma and papa's names, Brighteyes and Shedletsky. It even had a little picture of Taph's hooded face. (She had mentioned that half defeats the purpose, but papa said it still did the job.)
Mamma had also given them a small card. She said it would get them snacks from the vending machine and food from the tiny food court- a space situated down next to the building, and a space Taph was only allowed to go to if they had a grown-up with them- and that if they got hungry, they could use it. It seems neither of them thought of the height of the vending machines.
It was just out of reach, even when they stood on the very tips of their toes.
Taph didn't know what they were supposed to do. Was there a rule for things like these? Something Taph should know, but didn't? Maybe they had been told, but forgot, or didn't hear, or something else entirely possible.
So instead of getting a snack, they were staring up at the packages behind the glass, holding the card tightly in their hand, wondering if there was a way to get a their desired bag of candy without properly reaching the buttons. It was an endeavor with little gain.
Disappointing.
"You look just like a miniature Telamon."
Taph nearly jumped out of their skin. The only sign was how their shoulders flinched, and their wings flared, and the startled chirp that escaped their throat.
That, and how they turned around sharply and nearly fell as they stepped on the too-long cloak.
Someone was standing there.
The name came easily- 'Doombringer,' who appeared on the TV some mornings with a headline and in framed pictures at home. Papa spoke fondly of the man. "Real tough guy, but he's good. You don't have anything to worry about when it comes to him." Papa had claimed. "And if you're in danger, you can trust Doombringer. He won't let anyone get hurt if they don't deserve it." Taph had made sure to remember the face and the hat he donned, so that they'd know who to go to.
They didn't expect to see him.
Taph knew, reasonably, there was no reason he wouldn't be here. It wasn't as if he wasn't allowed. In fact, the man had every right to be here, it was just...
Doombringer crouched down to their height with a too-wide smile. "You got a name?" Which, really, was an odd question if you thought about it, since who didn't have a name? Taph knew what it meant though. Their hands were already moving, spelling out the letters, but Doombringer only cocked his head as he studied the child. He seemed to relax a bit when his eyes shifted past their gestures. "Nice name. Taph. Am I saying it right?"
Taph merely nodded. Doombringer seemed satisfied as he stood up, the smile slipping into something just-as-nice but not-as-wide.
"For a second there, I thought someone had brought their kid to work and let them roam free," Doombringer snorted. He paused- yet only for a moment- before he added, "Which someone did. But Telamon follows his own rules."
Doombringer seemed to be rather correct there. That, and he seemed fairly certain of the fact.
Taph was mostly sure that it was correct. Papa always seemed to be doing what he wanted to do...
"I take it you're trying to get something from the vending machine?"
Taph glanced over at the vending machine, and the buttons held just out of reach, and wasn't all too surprised at the assumption. It was correct. Taph was trying to get themself some candy from the machine. It just... was a little too tall.
So Taph held up the card and nodded.
Doombringer only chuckled.
"I'll leave you to it, then. Tell your mom and pops that Doombringer said hello."
He was turning away and the gears in Taph's head turned too.
Taph wasn't tall enough to reach the buttons- but Doombringer would be tall enough, and he was right here- and wasn't it just the perfect fix to the problem? Wasn't that 'problem solving?' Mamma always said that finding solutions was solving problems, but mamma hadn't said the solutions could start walking away, and-
They reached out.
Little claws caught on the admin's pant leg and he paused. The words didn't work, the words never worked, so Taph tugged at him until he was looking down, and they only let go to start signing.
They didn't even get to properly start their request before Doombringer was crouching down. "I don't understand sign language, kid," he frowned. "Guessing you can't talk?"
The words felt close.
The words were stuck in Taph's throat. A voice existed, it was just afraid to be heard, but Taph knew it was easier to act like it wasn't there. It changed nothing anyway. It was easier than trying to make people understand that the words didn't want to come out. So Taph just shook their head and pretended they couldn't speak.
Doombringer's brows furrowed.
The guilt gnawed.
But Doombringer smiled, nudging Taph's shoulder. "Chin up. I can connect some dots..." his gaze was shifting towards the vending machine, now, and Taph watched as he wondered.
Silence passed in seconds.
"You're... pretty small, aren't you?" The silent child stared as Doombringer looked back down at them. A subtle realization came by, and then he was smiling, and he was speaking again. "You can't reach the buttons."
Taph couldn't help but grin and couldn't help but nod. Doombringer seemed pleased, nodding along, and they were tugging him by his sleeve towards the machine that held their prize. He came with easily- standing, yet bowed slightly so that they wouldn't have to let go- but the problem rose again.
He couldn't understand them.
Doombringer seemed to realize this. He was frowning, mind churning, but the solution was right there for Taph to see.
When Taph wanted to get on top of the cabinets, and yet it was too tall and too far. They were scared to climb up. So papa had knelt down, grinned at them, before picking them up and dropping them onto their desired perch. And when mamma let them help stir something in the kitchen, but they had to wash their hands first, but the kitchen sink was too tall... and she picked them up and held them high enough for them to reach.
It was the same thing here.
So Taph let go of Doombringer. He looked at them, again, a question clearly on his next words, but he stopped when Taph raised their arms.
He stared. They stood on their tip-toes and spread their wings. He seemed to get it.
Doombringer moved slowly, hands warily grabbing onto Taph. It looked like he got the idea. Especially when he lifted them up. Careful, of course, but he still did so, and Taph reached out for the buttons and the swipe-y thing, and he held them up as they swiped the card and pressed the buttons.
The bag fell.
Taph grinned. Doombringer smiled in turn as he set them down again.
"There you go," Doombringer stepped back. Taph paused, looking at him, their hand in the slot for their prize, yet he only inclined his head politely. "Enjoy your candy."
...mamma said it was polite to say 'thank you.'
But Taph couldn't say it with real words. And Doombringer didn't understand their silent words. But still, even still, they should thank him, shouldn't they? Since he helped them? Since he was nice?
Taph stared as Doombringer turned. His hand was up in a subtle wave. He was leaving.
Instead of speaking, Taph pushed the candy and card into their pockets. Instead of forgetting, Taph hurriedly stepped after him. Instead of signing, Taph wrapped their arms around his leg.
He paused again.
Taph peeked up at the admin.
He seemed to understand, since he smiled, and his head tilted, and they knew he understood when he used his words.
"No problem, kid."
People were always with points. It was in their thoughts, in their vision, their language. It was everywhere.
That was the thing about points, though- what kind were they? What kinds even existed?
Vantage points. Talking points. Bonus points. Connection points. Breaking points. Maybe some others, but those was what Taph was most familiar with.
Vantage points were a comfort. You were higher, usually, or seeing while others weren't aware you were present. It was a soothing thing that Taph enjoyed. There was a freedom in hiding and watching and for that you could find an advantage, and who did not enjoy having an advantage?
Talking points, however, for Taph, were instead familiar in the existence of a lack. Lacking a voice those could hear with their ears made 'talking' a dream. Instead, they found talking in listening. They heard the speech but did not engage as much.
Bonus points provided extra. It was the glutton and greed's favorite, the excess. That's what a bonus point was and even still it was vanity. Compliments, extra goodies... that was what bonus points lived in. And when your base was low, you were familiar with the bonuses of effort and attempts.
Connection points served the relations well. Taph had many relations, knew and saw many people, and made connections there. It existed through family, friends, enemies, and those sorts of things- and that last specific was what easily led to the last point.
Breaking points.
Taph was painfully familiar with breaking points.
The speaker buzzed angrily with words.
The day had started fine. Dare Taph say that it had been uplifting, in the beginning, and it was one of the first times since the passings that they had felt okay.
"Many Robloxians have begun to speak out against the Demolitionists," the screen chattered. "After the wrongful termination of a house, people have started to express concern about the Robloxians that claim to work by the 'will of Builderman.' Concerned citizens say that without Builderman, who's will are they following but their own?"
Taph stepped out for food by the dread's demand.
Down the street, people were gathering.
By night's break, the people were screaming, and Taph's eyes watched the spinning of words and belief through a screen.
Steps outside became quick and brief. Trips were spent hiding and when the stores were quiet and near to closing. Being turned away became more common, and they found themself running more often.
Eventually the door stayed shut.
Things were boarded when the screen was filled with violence.
"Today, a group of Demolitionists were stopped from terminating a house by a group of protesters, and..."
The words filtered out and the cruel was all Taph saw.
The first video was shaky and a figure was standing there, her hands held up and a sword sheathed on a hip, and she faced the anger with a wary smile and uneasy eyes.
"I assure you that-"
Words became swallowed by fury-filled screams, and she backed towards her three and only safeties, and four people in nearly identical cloaks stood tensely in the whirling spiral of anger.
The surge of the fury was sharp.
"That one has a gun!"
That had been the last time Taph dared to turn the TV on, and from then had the windows been boarded and drawn shut, and that had been a singular breaking point where violent had born nothing but fear in their heart.
Breaking points were painful.
Yet, it was not as painful as the hunger.
Taph had long since began to run low on their resources. The thinning items had trailed away to nothing, and the outside world remained a foreign place that they dare not face.
Fear laced through and they were lost in how they stared.
They felt weak.
They could not bring themself to move, consciousness barely present, and the haunting presences of things before was all that stayed.
Taph's stomach ached.
The silence crept like a maddening danger.
Was this what Taph deserved? Perhaps it was, for their job, for their title, for the privilege of names and the memories they clung to. Perhaps it was for them not trying to step outwards and help.
Taph did not have to hide.
Perhaps they could be out there, helping those lost and scared, others who had done this task of destroying what was left behind.
Instead, Taph hid and played the cowardly victim.
The tears stung but did not fall and the exhaustion did not allow Taph to sit up nor stand.
Instead, they curled on the floor, and limp wings worked as dirty and pathetic blankets, and Taph drowned in the folds of their father's cloak. It served as the only savior in this Hell they were trapped within.
A Hell with traps that they had placed themself, all in a world that had found breaking points.
"Mamma..."
Rasped, faint, and it was deafening in the silence, and Taph felt the dry tears roll down their face. Claws curled meekly into the fabric of sleeves and a sob dragged itself from the depths.
"...papa..."
And yet, nobody was there to hear the only words, and the exhaustion remained as a brutal joke.
The final sight was the barest hint of the sun's light through boards and drawn curtains.
And Taph let themself sleep.
Sleep for the very last time.