The Bard and the Killer

Chapter 5: A Bard's Bird

Sure enough, after the phone incident Gamzee didn't find sleep again. That was ok with him. He could go without it as long as he was doubtful of your vitality. The sun had almost set when the news channel he hadn't changed the television from caught his attention again. It covered the brutal murder of a local man. Gamzee took a seat on the couch, lounging half off of it. There had been child at the scene of the crime, but it appeared he was so traumatized he couldn't tell the story straight, despite having witnessed it. They briefly showed a crude drawing, done in true childish fashion, of a winged figure standing over a smaller one, across from a stick figure in a puddle of red.

Gamzee sat forward in his seat, riveted by the stick like drawing. It could've been a massive coincidence. After all, humans culled each other every day and he knew for a fact that human children had a tendency to see what they called fairies and angels when they were under duress. But why would lil mama do such a thing? It could've been a coincidence, but Gamzee decided he was not going to treat it as one. He noted the address of the child and stood, stretching, his lanky body popping here and there for such long inactivity. He collected his juggling pins from the door and headed out about a hour earlier than he probably should. Luckily for him, the clouds were out en masse.

x

You were keeping to yourself on the roof, letting the spitting snow blanket you and quickly melt. When you had flown up to the roof of the mansion, you decided to put your jacket back on, instead running your hand absentmindedly over the purple Capricorn symbol on the front. Every so often, you gave your wing joints a roll to dislodge what little sleet that did stick to you. There was a shuddering grating noise to your left and when you looked over, you noticed a small square hatch, partially frozen shut. Slipping your fingers under the edges, you gave the slightest tug, causing it to fly open.

A small head covered in part by a navy blue hood. Little spikes of tousled brown hair stuck out from the top as a large set of orange goggles surveyed you. The figure rose up out of the hole a little more, allowing you to see the twin hatchets strapped to their back and the odd, striped mask they wore that covered only their mouth. Pulling the rest of their body out of the whole, the figure that you now realized to be male closed the hatch behind them.

The two of you sat in silence a moment longer before he gestured at the jacket. "You still live. You should be wearing that in this weather." You look at the strange boy a moment before shaking your head.

"I've yet to fly back down." You offered few words in return. You were still turning over the events of the previous night. You had stayed on the roof all night, doing nothing but that. The boy pushed his hood down, revealing the rest of his messy little boy hair.

"C'mon Weeper. You were supposed to go out on a run with Ben hours ago to get food for the few of us that eat. He paused a moment. "That includes my waffles." You were perplexed. Why would an undead serial killer care about breakfast?

"My name's not Weeper." You felt bad being so blunt with this boy, whom somehow radiated child like waves to you, but you weren't going to just lay down and this shit anymore.

"You don't remember your real one, do you?" He pointed out. "And the rest of us can hardly keep using "you" or referring to you as birdy or girl." You jolt at the gentleness in the way he said birdy and bolt of crippling sorrow chased it's way through your heart. Someone else...used to say it like that, too...Unbidden, tears rose to your eyes and spilled over on your cheeks. This sudden onslaught of emotional pain was agonizing. Again, your heart felt as though it may split in two. You kept all of this to yourself, ignoring the fact that the tears gave it away.

"Fine. Where's the elf?" You made yourself ask, extremely proud of the way you kept your voice from breaking or cracking in any way.

"He's already waiting for you in town." The boy gave you map and a list of food items. The list had his name on it. Toby. Without questioning how Ben was blending in and not attracting attention, you took these things in silence and leapt down from the roof, using your wings to create an upward pull and thus null the effect of impact. Only then did you put your jacket back in, studying the map as you walked into the forest. Satisfied you knew the layout of the town pretty well, you pocketed the map and the list both.

The trip through the portal hardly phased you this time, a fact that worried you only slightly. The water should've felt cold and made you shiver, but it ceased to bother you this third time around. Making your way through town was no big deal. You just kept to the sidewalks, didn't talk to anyone and kept your gaze on the ground anytime someone passed close to you. For the most part, no one even looked at you, which was odd, considering the bloody hole in the back of your jacket. The air in the grocery store was stifling, however; a stark contrast to the welcome cold outside.

You looked at Toby's list. It was written in shaky hand, as if he couldn't steady himself like a normal person. While this made the list slightly harder to read, you were still able to make out that list required you to find two different kinds of fruity waffles, one regular box, roughly ten pounds of beef, Doritos, and... a note to get whatever you may want. You hadn't thought about this in a while, because you didn't seem to get hungry as much on their side of the portal, but now that it was brought to the front of your attention, the hunger hit you like a wave. You grabbed a shopping cart, wondering how you were supposed to get this all back on your own, because you didn't see Ben anywhere.

Keeping your hood up, you ventured down the frozen food isle and collected the excessive amount of waffles specified on the list. You were wrapping your hand around the last box when someone touched your shoulder. You screamed, in full panic mode as you whipped around, hand poised to slap and connecting. Behind you there was short teenage boy. He had clipped blond hair and sparkly blue eyes. His teeth were oddly sharp. Realization also touched you and you lowered the fist you had been raising.

"Ben?" You blinked, initial shock wearing off.

A customary smirk graced the boy's features. "The only. You'll be needing this. "He handed you a wad of cash which you quickly tucked into your pockets. Throwing his arms up and crossing them behind his head, Ben fell in step next to you. You again, didn't question his appearance. While you steadily progressed through the list, he kept watch, making sure no one looked too hard at either of you, as it seemed that would reveal his true nature.

For yourself, you added tomato soup, cheese, bread, Fruit Gushers, cereal, and some milk. It was finally time to check out. Though in reality you had only been in the store for twenty five minutes, it felt like an eternity that you had walked the crowded aisles. You were checking out while Ben looked cockily at himself in the mirror on the sunglasses display when a quiet, trembling, feminine voice spoke behind you. "(Your name)? My baby?" Suddenly you found yourself being hugged from behind by shaking, soft arms. Ben snapped to attention, turning to look.

"Ah shit." He said.

x

Gamzee left the murder house in a huff. The aunt of the surviving boy hadn't been very eager to let him in when she opened the door to reveal a nearly seven and half foot troll; especially one whom was clearly some sort of high. He somehow convinced her otherwise and got himself in without any sort of violence. All it took was a harmless little lie about being a concerned neighbor. (Your name) would be proud of him, using his words. The boy had been too medicated to talk to, so Gamzee sat for a while with the aunt. She looked haggard and had a face full of grief.

She told him how the attackers had not only killed her brother in law and given her nephew a concussion, but had broken the vase containing the ashes of her deceased sister. This was all she could offer him besides a quick peak at the boy's drawings. They each features a winged woman with some sort of (your hair color) hair. Reluctantly thanking the woman for the wasted time neither of them would get back he left.

Now he knew that you had been at the scene of violent culling when it went down. But what did this mean? Why were you running around slaughtering people? The troll sank back onto his horn pile with a sigh, staring with his half open eyes at the ceiling. I motherfucking love you, (your name.)