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.
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I-I...
It's not mercy for Larson that stops him. Not wholly, not even by half. It's the thought of being a parasite in a body that isn't his, a parasite in truth. After everything, that's the word that still clings tightest.
Goddamned parasite.
I...
He doesn't know how to begin to explain.
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God the warmth, the simple love makes him want to hug his father tight and he can't.
I can... project myself outside of him, I did it when I was angry before, but it hurts him badly and I'm still anchored to him when I do it.
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Jedao pulls Larson's kneeling body closer with another swooping gravitational anomaly, like the whole universe tilted for a moment, so that Larson is falling, sliding vertically down toward Jedao at the center of all things -
When Larson is in easy range, he reaches down to cup his cheek in one hand - the bloody hand, tacky with ooze that wriggles with almost imperceptible thready tendrils. Even if Jedao isn't conforming to Larson's expectations of Yog-Sothoth, it will be impossible to be unaware that he is something profoundly alien, something from the other side, not just a man with chutzpah and a few parlor tricks, even though that's basically true.
"You are lucky beyond the dreaming of all the dreamlands, that my child asks me for patience," Jedao murmurs, his voice almost unbearably tender.
"You mentioned his other half."
Jedao asks no specific question; he wonders want Larson will tell him, and what Edwin will corroborate or counter.
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He has to force the words out, awed by the being in front of him and nervous of what might happen any moment. "When he came to this world he was... split. And a piece of him is bound to an... arrogant, blasphemous abuser."
There's a viper tang to the last words. Larson believes exactly what he's saying, and Edwin curls inward nervously at the rage he can feel echoing all around him. He's the one who kept Larson asleep long enough for John and Arthur to escape. To kill Larson's son, then escape. He didn't mean for the first part to happen. From the limited amount he saw of Jack, Edwin liked him. Or something close to liked.
"The things he said to your child--"
[Sh- shut up.]