Pigment (Millard Nullings X Reader)

Welcome to Wales

I sat alone on a train to Wales, looking out the window towards the greenery. It was relaxing, being able to sit down and sink into my thoughts. Nowadays, I hardly got enough time to myself with school work and family madness. While I did bring books with me on the three hour train ride, I spent most of my time looking out the window.

That, and wondering what I should be expecting. Were we really going to track down birds and see what they had to offer? It was a horribly stupid idea, really, and I felt butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it. Currently, I just imagined Heather holding up a falcon by its ankle, while she had an unlit cigarette and black sunglasses on, yelling at the bird to give her answers, goddammit! It was a funny to think about, but quite unlikely, unfortunately. 

I heard my compartment door open, and Heather stood there with a plate of biscuits in hand. She offered me some, and sat across from me. We absorbed in the silence around us like a sponge.

"How are you doing?" Heather asked me.

I shrugged, and played with my black jumpsuit's material. "I honestly don't know. I'm a bit nervous, and have a god-awful feeling rising up in me.But at the same time, I've never been outside of town before, so it'll be nice to take a holiday for once."

Heather just chuckled.

"What exactly are you hoping to see?" I asked my cousin.

"Don't know. Probably someone who knows a bit about who we are and why we have the abilities we do."

I nodded, and decided to place my jacket down on my seat. We still had an hour and some left of the ride, so there wasn't a reason not to rest. I layed my head down on the makeshift pillow, and pulled out my books. I grabbed A Study in Scarlet for Heather, tossing it to her, and To Kill a Mockingbird for myself.

We read until the train pulled up to the station, and continued to read in the taxi to town. Heather and I didn't put our books down until we got to the dingy old pub we were to stay in. The Priest Hole was apparently the only place visitors could stay, so we made do with what we had.

"So, I'm thinking that we should just walk around town tomorrow, yeah?" Heather said as she threw her luggage down in our room.

It was maybe 9:00 at night, and we were already tired. We grabbed some food from downstairs, and decided to stay inside until morning. Heather got the bed that night, and I layed on blanketed luggage. The worst part was that my makeshift bed was nicer than Heather's real bed, so only one of us got a good night's sleep.

* * *

"What type of things do you think such a small town like this has to share?" Heather asked out loud. "I get that Cairnholm is old, but a museum seems a bit too weird for me," Heather joked.

She opened the door to Cairnholm's only museum in the area, and I walked inside. It was disgustingly humid in there, and we examined all of the old photographs displayed to the general audience.

Heather found her way over to some creepy looking casket, and read a sign called The Bog Boy. I, however, looked through as many catalogs as I could.

I found maybe five or six short news articles that were conveniently placed inside small binders, so people would have an easier time reading them. I was flipping through one marked 1940, when a separate binder suddenly slid off of the table I originally put it on. When I tried to pick the binder up, a sudden chill went down my spine. It felt as if someone was watching me, but there was no one else I could see except Heather.

"It's strange how empty this place is," I finally said.

Heather snorted. "These people have been trapped in this town for forever, and it seems as if no one else wants to travel to Cairnholm just for the fun of it. Why would you think anyone would want to be here?"