Yellow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
howtheyshine) wrote2024-03-11 08:45 pm
howtheyshine) wrote2024-03-11 08:45 pm
SPRING BREEAKKKKK;
He's in the dark. He's in the dark again. A pocket of alive-darkness that he can feel the edges of, he can feel the void that waits.
Well hello there, Yellowhead. We haven't been formally introduced. I'm....
Call me Carmichael.
The laugh that bubbles through the name makes Yellow's soul creep.
You're Kayne.
A silence ripples outward from the nothing-space the voice takes up, a silence deeper than the emptiness of John's unoccupied body. Yel-- Edwin, Edwin curls in on himself, tightening into a tiny knot of spectral energy.
He said the wrong thing, he said the wrong thing, he's going to get hurt--
And how, my little poppet, did you know that.
I-I...
Actually. Know what? Doesn't matter. Sorry to pull the plug on that little experiment so abruptly, but see, I made a deal with your better half--
John!
He can't stop himself. He realizes how stupid the flare of hope is a moment later, when that oppressive empty cold bleak dead cold silent dark silent dark comes creeping back up between him and the voice of Kayne.
I made a deal with him to get him back to Arthur, which means you needed to clear the way.
Of course, I can't be bothered to babysit you.
So you've got a couple of options, here, kid.
Well, two. Which is more like one. Unless you want to go back to the Dark World, in which case--
No-- No, please, I don't care what you want, I'll do it, just--
Okay, okay, Jeeee-sus, stop groveling. It took John a few good centuries to get to that point.
Yellow goes quiet, cowed.
There's this guy I want you to meet. He's like the worst version of Arthur got all the color sucked out of it and given eternal life.
Wh... What?
Well, technically you did meet him. I guess now he gets a chance to meet you, since he's so fucking eager to lick the feet of a god.
The unhinged laughter rings in Yel-- Edwin, Edwin, Edwin's ears as he feels the world get abruptly smaller and his senses get stripped back to shadows.
Well hello there, Yellowhead. We haven't been formally introduced. I'm....
Call me Carmichael.
The laugh that bubbles through the name makes Yellow's soul creep.
You're Kayne.
A silence ripples outward from the nothing-space the voice takes up, a silence deeper than the emptiness of John's unoccupied body. Yel-- Edwin, Edwin curls in on himself, tightening into a tiny knot of spectral energy.
He said the wrong thing, he said the wrong thing, he's going to get hurt--
And how, my little poppet, did you know that.
I-I...
Actually. Know what? Doesn't matter. Sorry to pull the plug on that little experiment so abruptly, but see, I made a deal with your better half--
John!
He can't stop himself. He realizes how stupid the flare of hope is a moment later, when that oppressive empty cold bleak dead cold silent dark silent dark comes creeping back up between him and the voice of Kayne.
I made a deal with him to get him back to Arthur, which means you needed to clear the way.
Of course, I can't be bothered to babysit you.
So you've got a couple of options, here, kid.
Well, two. Which is more like one. Unless you want to go back to the Dark World, in which case--
No-- No, please, I don't care what you want, I'll do it, just--
Okay, okay, Jeeee-sus, stop groveling. It took John a few good centuries to get to that point.
Yellow goes quiet, cowed.
There's this guy I want you to meet. He's like the worst version of Arthur got all the color sucked out of it and given eternal life.
Wh... What?
Well, technically you did meet him. I guess now he gets a chance to meet you, since he's so fucking eager to lick the feet of a god.
The unhinged laughter rings in Yel-- Edwin, Edwin, Edwin's ears as he feels the world get abruptly smaller and his senses get stripped back to shadows.
no subject
In this world, in this place, he's not the King. He's not Edwin. He's just... Yellow.
[You're weaker than Arthur.] It's quiet, vicious, tired. [Rest if you need to rest.]
no subject
"A word of advice, your majesty," he says, and this, this is cold.
But again, different: Arthur's is a knife slipped between two ribs, sharp and immediately clear. Larson's is the click of a hammer, of the gun pressed to the back of the head.
"For all you may know about humanity and madness - you are in my world now. So I would suggest that if you want your other half back as badly as you seem to... you will respect me. Or I will see fit to show you what humanity is capable of doing to gods that don't fulfil their part of a bargain."
no subject
It's the tone of a cornered cat, the hiss of an animal willing to do whatever damage it has to, either to itself or its enemy if it means coming out alive.
[I don't want him back. I never said I did. His name is John, he's his own person, he's not part of the King in Yellow any more.]
no subject
"Our bargain - I help you find John again, safe and sound, reunited. And you can help me with a... just a small issue, really, a trifling matter for someone of your- half-infinite power. A matter of succession within my family's order that needs seeing to."
no subject
no subject
He's so tired and overdrawn by this presence, now, he barely has the urge to bother with any of his usual ablutions. He just wants to find his bed and pass out.
no subject
He stays quiet, and tries to remember the details of Larson's estate, and recites poetry silently to the dark.