TNTduo one shots + art

(AU)(A) Royal Assassination - Part 5

Wilbur faintly heard Quackity talking, looking over to see who it was. He got worried with just how far into the dungeon Quackity had gone, quickly walking over. He sped up when he realized which prisoner Quackity had stumbled across, practically running at this point. He quickly reached the assassin, grabbing him and tugging him away from the cell.
"Quackity, don't talk to him." Wilbur said urgently, glancing nervously at the filthy, partially charred man inside the cell.

Dream stared up at Quackity, his bright eyes breaking any kind of darkness in his cell. He didn't blank, shoving himself up against the cell gate again, practically begging to talk to Quackity. He didn't speak, though, seeming to not be able to. It was as if his vocal cords had completely stopped working, and body language was the only way he could communicate. It was simple, really; no one had dared to talk to him, so he didn't have a reason to use his voice, and the voice he had used to have eventually just faded away. Like a video on mute, if you will.

Quackity looked over to Wilbur, confused. He gently shook Wil off of him, looking back to Dream.
"Wait, how come? He doesn't seem like a bad person- is he?" He felt a twang of pity, for some odd reason. "He looks desperate, to be honest."

"It's just-..... He...... It's a long story but he's been in here for a long time and he's committed too many heinous crimes to be given much pity. I..... I tried, many times, to have a nice conversation with him back when I was little. Didn't quite end well. But come on, I think I found out where your jacket was put, we just need to find which crate they put it in." Wilbur said, avoiding eye contact with Dream at any cost. He'd brushed the white streak in his hair underneath his normal brown colored locks, hiding it from view. He finally locked eyes with Dream briefly before stiffly turning away, grabbing onto Quackity's hand and pulling him back towards the front of the dungeon. The truth was, Wilbur owed Dream quite a lot. He'd just been scared by the insane act Dream used to have, along with the stories of the terrible crimes the prisoner committed. It was true that Wilbur used to come in here and try talking to Dream, and the man had even saved Wilbur when he fell ill with the same sickness that took Wilbur's mother. That's where the white streak came from. A permanent reminder of the time Dream had saved him, now mostly forgotten by everyone who knew about what had occurred.

Quackity looked down at his and Wilbur's hands, over to Dream again, before pulling his hand away.
"Wait. I want to at least try to have a conversation with him, just so he has something to be- how do I word it...... positive about! Yeah. Just... give me a chance, just for maybe ten minutes." He smiled softly, before walking back over to Dream. He plopped down onto the ground, thinking for a moment before waving, point at himself, then unfolding his wings and making a quacking sound.
"Hello, my name's Quackity. What's yours?"

Dream seemed to light up with interest and curiosity, smiling widely. He sat properly, legs crossed, thinking of how to tell Quackity his name. He soon got an idea, waving and pointing to himself just as Quackity did before lightly tapping his forehead, making a sleeping motion, then moving his hands up in the air, making little figures with his hands.

Quackity thought about what Dream had done, before peeling up.
"Dream! Your name's Dream, right?"

Dream gasped excitedly, clapping his hands and nodding happily. He was clearly happy about the social interaction, and how Quackity was actually managing to speak to him without him actually having to talk. It was wondrous, and Dream was just purely amazed someone found a way to communicate with him.

".... Fine, ten minutes." Wilbur whispered, counting the seconds down in his mind. He paced nervously, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers against them. He was definitely very anxious, constantly glancing at Dream, then at the entrance to the dungeon as if someone would just suddenly appear and arrest Quackity, or as if Dream would suddenly snap and find a way to attack Quackity or just SOMETHING. Anxiety often doesn't have a real reason for being there, just an overwhelming feeling of danger. Wilbur's fight or flight be kicking in. He put his hands together, rubbing them anxiously as he paced. Geez, can this man just calm the hell down-
No, no he cant calm down. Wilbur ran one hand through his hair, sighing. The streak of white was visible for just a few moments, as he quickly hid it again. He didn't need to be reminded of his encounter with death herself, when she was preparing to lead him into the world of the beyond..... Wilbur couldn't help but chuckle dryly as his mind pranced from memory to anxiety-laden thought to memory again. Who was he kidding? There wasn't a 'world of the beyond'. There wasn't an 'other side'. There wasn't Heaven, there wasn't Hell. It was just nothingness, a personalized nothing for each and every person. For him, it had been a train station.... Trains still gave him goosebumps to this day... He briefly wondered what his mother's nothing was like. Then he remembered that she likely didn't have a nothing. She was death herself, after all. She was probably far too busy collecting the departing souls and bringing them to their own nothingness to have one for herself.