Crowned [Inanimate Insanity Fanfic]

Arc 3, Chapter 67: The Dead Men Don't Walk.

// TW \\

DEATH

ABUSE

NEGLECT

HOMOPHOBIA

TERMINAL ILLNESS

———

Don't ever tread upon a grave

Not even to prove that you are brave.

A spirit rests just bellow,

And one day you'll be like them you know.

Your body to the earth returns.

Your mind sat still, and soon left to burn.

You fade away to ash and dust,

And nothing remains but nails and rust.

You rest upon your final bed,

As your soul departs to the land of the dead.

———

Microphone shivers in the cold of the winter wind. The fire dim, and dying. Her body aching from her frozen joints. Her teeth chattered as she glared at the others who laid silently in the confines of the cave. Knife and Pickle were probably the most well off, as they were huddled up together, Pickle was clinging onto Knife. Probably from the discomfort of the cold and his changed body. Trophy, on the other hand, looked like he may not have slept at all. He was in the corner, against a stalagmite. Though morning was beginning to shine through the snow clouds beyond the cave, Microphone didn't have the heart to wake Knife or Pickle.

"Trophy?" She spoke up in a half whisper, which made Trophy flinch from across the cavern.

He leaned off of the stone wall, and turned to glare at Mic. A bit startled that she was awake, since, she wasn't ten minutes ago. "What?" He asked bitterly.

"Did I wake you?" She asked in a quiet tone, shakily stepping towards him and sitting nearby.

"No..." He grumbled, the bags under his eyes evident. He rubbed his forearms and looked at the entrance to the cave. "Why? Need something?" He raised a brow.

"No—No... I just... I need to talk to someone..." she shrugged, hugging her knees to conserve her own body heat.

Trophy nodded to himself, "So..." he bit his lip as he thought of a topic. "How's life?" He asked awkwardly.

Microphone gave him a disappointed look. "Well... I'm separated from Taco an d the others... Stuck in a freezing cold cave in the snow, there's DEMONS after everyone, and for all we know there's no way back home!" She chuckled bitterly, narrowing her eyes. "So—I guess I'm doing as bout' as good as you." She spat.

Trophy grimaced, looking away. "Mh..." He nodded again. "How about your family?" He asked, raising a brow.

"Last time I called them they were fine..." She thought back to their last phone call a couple weeks ago. "They said they hoped I was having fun on the Gameshow thing." She shrugged.