Wasn't sure what to do with a man that looked like a mirror learning to unbreak itself. So Trevor wrapped him in his own coat and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They could do all that gentle shit later. Now was the time to get out, before Trevor too collapsed from...
The gloomy fucker had killed the fiend. Must be why Trevor was no longer being bounced around like a nut needed cracking. There were men that had the courage to fight monsters head on – and then there was Trevor. He had...er...worms? Well, some of 'em. Those that didn't get squished by fist or...
What gentle was left in him stayed with the slumped shape of the first woman. The next few tried to wear faces he knew again – but it was all a lesser guilt. Smaller hurt. Shake left his hand by the fifth. By the seventh, he wasn't even pretending not to remember.
Only rage was left, and even...
„That's why they're not on my ass..“ He muttered as they made their way inside. „I'm a terrible dancer. Fucking scarabs would find no rhythm to chew on.“
Trevor'd seen a lot of healers before. Usually were short-tempered and nasty fuckers, so the sight of the elf didn't disturb him much. The...
The blackness gave way to a bruiselight. Even that light was sandpaper. Took a moment to notice the sight return. Barely. Thin tendrils of glow hung at the edges like teeth.
And the glow had form – thin, squirmy things. They threaded the dirt like veins. Fucking worms. He reached for one and it...
The blues were moving again. Frantic. They inscribed the air. It didn't much matter what they wanted to say, because there was only one word left:
D
I
G
Each flick spelling it again. Again. Again. Agai...
Slap came like punctuation. But not a full stop.
The chaos changed. Because someone...
Some things you didn't need to see to believe. Just like Trevor didn't need to see the crushed rock next to him to know he'd nearly been killed. Another notch on his belt. Some people counted love, some violence – he counted how many times he'd failed to die. Lost count here and there. But the...
Trevor looked at the sweaty fucker with curiosity. The man was clearly delirious or just adjacent to it. That little nock they'd taken seemed to harbor a much greater grudge against the stranger. So when he started saying strange things, Trevor pulled a waterskin from his satchel.
Only thing...
Pain had the strange custom of fusing time like healedover bone. And Trevor couldn’t honestly tell how much had passed since Matvi first started meddling with the arrow. But it wasn’t nips and cuts he was counting – only threads and men. And they were all still there. Bit worse for wear. That...
Only Trevor didn't see shit. Didn't have to. The accumulated misfortune was so thick down here that Luck demanded an impressive counterweight. Every turn was correct. Each step certain. Even his breathing managed to miss some of the smell. Come to think of it – what was the smell? He'd been in...
Trevor was used to the gloom of almostlight. Those were the times it was easiest to leave unannounced. Because nobody bothered before the Sun. If the star could hold off then so could the eyes and questions. And for the best, really.
Something strange suffused the air. He felt before he saw...
Got a good laugh in at that. Trevor staying with he kid would've been a disaster to rival whatever was waiting in the chasm.
„Then it is a good thing we're not men.“ Wasn't sure what the stranger was. But knew himself. Words tasted like ash. Too sober for this shit.
Proceeded towards the exit...
Never much liked the night. Or the sleep promised with it. Because it wasn't a time Trevor rested. It was when he remembered. The things he'd done and hadn't. Always worried he'd mutter something he didn't want anyone hearing. And most nights, he was right to worry. Morning found him clutching...
House settled into quiet. And his feet knew to match it. The ghoul had stopped pretending to be alive. If the kid made another sound, it never reached Trevor. Which didn't mean anything. He didn't look towards storage. Couldn't. Not yet. Busied himself instead with the slow pillage of cupboards...
They just got the drop on a kid. A fucking kid. And here he was prancing around the common room like some kind of nude ostrich. Well...maybe not ostrich. Those were probably taller than him. Grabbed the first thing. Looked blankety enough. Breaking into someone's home was bad enough. No need to...
Fire caught easily – like the man had done this before. An experienced hobo, then. Trevor didn't move to help. Guy had it well in hand. But for some reason the other man was still keen to argue. Trevor had been told he had one of those punchable faces. Sometimes demonstrably so. Maybe that was...
Which part? Like asking which part of the plague you'd like to keep. What were they even talking about? No – there were no parts to this. Perhaps it was foolish to hold to hope in the first place. If it'd been that easy to cut it off piece by piece, he'd have given every one. As many as it took...
Guessed as much for the gutter. Trevor wasn't much for swimming as he slept either. The other part was harder to answer – harder to explain. But if the stranger was anything like him, he'd need no explanation. Much like Trevor, he'd already know. There was no need to think. His feet were already...
Which one was it? Couldn't leave them or had to go take a nap? Stress broke men in all manners. Perhaps that's what he was seeing. There were many buffers to madness. Trevor preferred to get drunk until he didn't remember where he woke up. But, you know – different strokes.
So let the man talk...
The other guy droned on. About doing, helping, serendipity and whatnot. Excise? Who talked like that? He looked half-mad with sickness and hunger. But he'd seen Trevor for who – for what he was. And that carried weight. Even if Trevor didn't want it. Pit still looked up to them. The apparition...
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