♪ ★Trees -Twenty Øne Pilots☆♬
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Quackity POV:
After the War meeting, Quackity's restlessness was far from cured. The looming idea of rotting away in this castle alone while others completed this mission without him was daunting, to say the least. He swallowed hard, remembering with a shiver that the likelihood of him being alone anywhere within this castle was low.
As if on cue, a tapestry to his left fluttered slightly and he jumped. Bristling and gritting his teeth, Quackity turned and stormed away from the offending tapestry. His nerves were completely shot. He needed to get out of this castle.
As if subconsciously, his angry strides steered him towards the courtyard. The fresh air would do him good, at least. He would ride, and perhaps the wind rushing against him would bring back some sense of logic and sanity.
By the time he trudged across the frigid grounds to the stables, he was already beginning to feel a bit better. For such a big castle, it sure was claustrophobic at times.
Buttercup seemed happy to see him and met his hand with her nose eagerly. Of course, that might have just been her smelling food on him, but it was encouraging nonetheless.
After saying a soft hello, Quackity called over the stable boy to prepare a saddle and reigns.
By the time he was finally mounted and leading her out of the stables, he didn't give much care to the direction or location he was going, and opted to just set off galloping across the grounds as fast as he could.
Before he knew it, the king had entered the forest. Trees whipped past him and he slowed Buttercup down a touch, still going along at a fast pace but just slow enough to weave between the trees and shrubbery of the woods.
As he looked up, he could see tiny slivers of grey sky peeking through the leaves, but the majority of the forest floor where he rode was cast in tight shadows.
A familiar rock. Moss crept up a stump in an odd fashion that he'd seen before. A dread slowly rose in his gut, but he pressed on regardless. He could not wallow in his own grief forever, without facing the memories that hurt most. Because they all hurt. So what was the use in avoiding this place?
He came into the clearing, pulling Buttercup to a staggered halt. "Woah, girl." He muttered, clutching the reigns and sliding off, not taking his eyes off the centre of the clearing, even as he tied her reigns to a tree trunk at the edge.
The well was the exact same. Why wouldn't it be? It didn't know anything had changed. In fact, really, nothing had. From the well's perspective, Quackity was back here alone, and thus things had returned to normal.
'The well's perspective', however, was rather irrelevant, and likely the thoughts of a crazy person, Quackity thought dryly.
He slid his hand into his pocket, suddenly feeling with his fingers a coin he didn't remember putting there.
He drew it out and looked at it flat on his palm for a moment. There seemed to be so much to wish for, yet no comprehensive sentence came to his lips.
How to put everything into one tiny little wish? And even if he could, his mind came to a sudden crossroads that he hadn't prepared for.
The war, or Wilbur?
Could he allow himself to choose? His heart wrenched at the idea, the selfishness of the answer he so desperately wanted to utter sending waves of guilt over him.
Duty, or Love?
It seemed a heavy choice, especially considering that neither mattered in the grand scheme of things. This was a wishing well, not an answered prayer. He would get no closure regardless of his choice.
His fingers closed over the coin in a fist, and he marched towards the dark stone well determinedly.
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♪ ★"Why won't you speak, where I happen to be? Silent, in the trees. Standing cowardly."☆♬
-Trees (Twenty Øne Pilots)
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The murky water stared back at him, no way to see how deep it really went. Quackity raised his fist over the water and....
Hesitated.
Groaning in frustration, he raised his eyes to the sky and tried to clear his mind, taking some deep breaths.
But when he looked back down, his heart dropped, and the coin slipped out of his hand, falling into the water with a plink and sending a small ripple outwards that distorted the two reflections staring back at him.
Wilbur's face peered right over his shoulder in the water, and for a second Quackity froze, both out of fear and an instinctual notion to savour the sight because he knew somehow that this might be the only way to see it. And when he finally jerked his head back to check, he realised that he'd been right in this feeling. Wilbur was nowhere to be found in the clearing.
He glanced back to the water, but the reflection was gone. Quackity let out a shakey breath and put his hands on the crumbling edge of the well, his eyes squeezing shut.
Suddenly, he spun around, facing the seemingly empty clearing with a new vengeance.
"I know you're here." He called out.
There was no answer and no freezing indication of his touch. But Quackity could still feel him there, watching him from the edge of the clearing.
"I'm not crazy, am I?" He said, quieter, with a hint of desperation in his voice. A gust of wind rustled the leaves slightly, ruffling his hair.
"Please... I can't do this. Why are you here? Why do I deserve your spirit? I'm sorry. I still can't save you." His voice broke slightly and he felt angry, more than anything else.
"What do you want from me?" He called out finally, but the wind carried most of it away.
His thoughts turned suddenly back to the coin, which would assumedly be sinking ever so slowly to the depths of the well. He still hadn't made his wish.
Quackity looked at the clearing, then started to walk back to Buttercup. He had decided something, along with his wish.
He couldn't stay in the castle, and it seemed no matter where he went in his kingdom, he would be haunted. So he would simply leave.
He would go on this mission, find this weapon, and finish the war.
He was king, after all.
And if this decision happened to allow him to run as far and as fast as he could from his past, then he could resist it no longer.
YOU ARE READING
ASSASSIN 2~ 𝓗𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭
Hayran Kurgu"It, [Death] goes hand in hand with love. Because when someone that you love dies, they cease to exist, and you start a grieving process. You miss them, you want them to come back, but its the acceptance that something is gone forever" ...
