More Dead Beat- Arthur stuff (part 2 WIP): Another thing i started writing this year and didn’t finish...
Fandom: Mystery Skulls Animated
Summary: Arthur dies in hellbent and becomes one of Lewis’s Deadbeats. (angst)
(PART 1)
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Arthur is pretty sure he remembers Lewis…then dying… being murdered…whatever it was. He’s not sure how or even if it actually happened in that order. There is no time to really contemplate anything because there is pain, fear, and festering loneliness sprinkled with betrayal and burning white-hot anger on the side. Arthur wants to cry, scream, shout for it to all stop…but his thoughts are in disarray and he’s stuck and couldn't move or feel. He couldn't do much of anything.
He’s not even sure he can say the feelings are all coming from him. It is more like the emotions are being shoved into his chest then ripped out just as quickly. Just as quickly as the chaos comes, it disappears and he’s alone. There’s nothing. No emotion. Like he’s been cut off from his very soul. Surely this wasn’t death, because if it was then it was terrifying.
His mind slows, thoughts trailing, coming…to.….a……slow…….stop.
...
Arthur welcomes the sensation of frustration when it trickles down to him, pulling him back to awareness. He latches onto it with no small about of desperation. Any sensation of life is better than the void.
The frustration soon turns to irritation…maybe worry….concern …with a touch of regret. They all swirl around him, pulling him this way and that. Desperately, he follows the sensations through the dark, turning the emotions over, testing them out. They feel wrong like he is tying on clothes far too big. Confused, he follows the connection, seeking out its source.
The source of the emotions is hot. A ball of fire, radiating heat. It burns like the sun, pulling him from the void with its promise of energy. He drinks it in with something akin to desperation, basking in its glow, consuming its warm.
The sensations and emotions around him shift, becoming unhappy and then guilty. The regret grows and there is plenty of anger as well. Actually, the fire seems to be burning through these emotions, even as they feed into Arthur.
They strike him as oddly discorded…and Arthur suddenly remembers that none of this is normal…wherever he is, it isn’t natural. The last thing he remembers is dyeing…and Lewis…and now he’s alone in the dark with only this overwhelming fire. Suddenly, the heat and energy are not comforting anymore, they are oppressive. Arthur is trapped in the dark …He wants out. He needs to escape. That burning hot sensation is something that wasn’t him…Arthur stops allowing it to pull him along, throwing his newfound fear and panic back at it. As if in response, the heat grows, becoming almost unbearably, wrapping around him and pulling more forcefully.
He is dragged painfully from the dark and deposited, smack, onto a hard surface so suddenly that it takes him several long seconds to realise that there is actual physical space around him.
Arthur finds himself on the dusty stone floor of a cave. Unlike the one he had just been in with Lewis, this one is made of browns and greys. The ceiling is low and the rocks on either side of him don’t provide a huge about of room. The only light is coming from himself. He is glowing a soft pinkish-yellow, which is illuminating the rock formations in a similar hue. Confused, he glances about, finding his movements oddly restricted. He feels floaty and he realises with no small about of surprise that he isn’t actually touching the ground. He is hovering a foot above it. This observation would probably have freaked him out more if he hadn't just then noticed that he had company.
Several sets of glowing purple eyes have him freezing in place. He is surrounded by those smaller pink ghosts, the one’s that had chased him through the cave before he had been cornered by Lewis. They are shaped like what he might have imagined a ghost to look like when he was five, like a kid in a sheet or a blob of colour. Arthur shrinks back, the atmosphere becoming tense as he registers the weight of their combined attention.
The smaller ghosts are a mix between curious and apprehensive, glowing eyes following his jerky movements. He can feel a sort of rhythmic-beat pulsing out from them, flowing into and through him. They all move and bob around like they are listening to the same familiar song. Even as he understands this, he also understands how out of sync he is. He feels discordant like he is playing a note out of tune. Whatever song they can hear, he can't. The way the smaller ghosts watch him suggests that they can feel how wrong he is too. They are all weary.
He continues his retreat, ignoring how he floats instead of walks. Just as he can feel their apprehension and judgment, he knows they can feel his fear and confusion. He doesn’t like it and wants to get as far away from them as possible. He needs time to process everything. It doesn’t take a genius to realize -what with the floating and recent run in which Lewis- that he is probably dead. There would be time for a mental breakdown later.
Arthur’s retreat is blocked my something tall and human-shaped. He is so focused on the smaller ghosts that he runs right into it. Quickly, he spins, bouncing back in the opposite direction. It's Lewis, arms crossed, glaring, fire burning across skeletal features. The other is blocking the cave entrance and his escape route. When Arthur looks past he can see the night sky over an empty desert.
For a second, they both stare at each other and Arthur can feel something deep within his chest pull him towards the other. Lewis is radiating heat and he can't help but be drawn in.
"What did you do to me?" He steps back, voice shaky, echoing ever so slightly. The further he moves away the stronger the pull become so he only makes it a few paces. Arthur has the sinking feeling that even if he did somehow make it past Lewis, he wouldn't make it very far.
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