Perry's Voice of Grounding
Wordcount: 1432
Note: I had posted this before but was very unhappy with its presentation. As a writer I was ashamed with how I just pushed it out there, so before anyone noticed I took it off and edited it properly! It should flow much better now.
This takes place shortly after 'The Voice of Silas'. I'm sorry but I'm terrible at naming stories. I hope you enjoy it anyway, I've worked very hard on it!
It was unbelievable—they were in it again. They'd fled through the Alps, defeated a cannibalistic witch, "outsmarted" a kobalt, and still they ended up back at square one. It was maddening, to be back here, especially now that everyone who had a part in the campus newspaper was brutally murdered.
Now they had to save Silas. It was the only thing they could do, and as exciting as that was, it was equally as terrifying. LaFontaine spent an hour afterwards speaking to JP in an attempt to formulate some kind of plan, but came up with nothing. They sat at the edge of the large bed, hand in their hands and sighing. The room was almost completely black, save for a semicircle haven of light from JP's projection on the smart TV. Everyone else was asleep, or trying to sleep. Perry was laying beneath the covers being LaF, tossing and turning fitfully.
LaFontaine raked a hand through their hair and blew air through pursed lips. It was two-thirty in the morning, and even after hours of planning there was nothing to show for it. They supposed that just going at the Anglerfish God with pitchforks and see how far that would go. Perry wouldn't let them do it, and frankly neither would Carmilla. All right, plan P then…blow torches?
The bed shifted and croaked. LaFontaine twisted around and saw Perry standing, facing the wall. "Perr, what's up?"
"Oh," Perry wrung her fingers together, not meeting LaFontaine's gaze, "Just—I have to use the bathroom. I'll be right back." She hurried herself out of the bedroom. They watched her go, but went back to brainstorming after she was out of sight. They doubted a blowtorch of any size would do much damage to a soul-devouring demigod of the sea. Perhaps a something electric, like a cattle prod, or high voltage telephone wires…
LaFontaine flopped down onto the bed, arms spread out. It was entirely too difficult to kill an Anglerfish god. For four tiny beings, even if one of them was a badass vampire, it would take a miracle before they could even dream about taking this thing down. They rubbed their hand down their face. Perhaps if they could get their hands on some bolt cutters...
A light in another room flicked on, brightening the hallway visibly enough to see from their bedroom. LaFontaine sat up, looking curiously out the door. "Perry, is that you?" they called softly. They didn't receive any answer, so they stood up and headed out the door.
The hallway was empty, and dark for the most part except for some small illumination from an opened door to the left, casting a dim light that faded as it reached across the rest of the long stretch of hall. They thought of Perry, and hurried over. Perry hadn't lied, she had gone to the bathroom, but she'd ended up busying herself with scrubbing every inch of the bathroom clean. Currently, she was kneeling over the tub, desperately trying to remove the red stains left there from earlier.
LaFontaine approached Perry slowly and reached out to her. Their hand barely brushed her shoulder, and she jumped away like she'd been burned, almost stumbling into the tub. LaFontaine retracted their hand, "Hey, Perry. I thought you were…?"
"I was. B-but then I saw the mess in the tub and I just wanted to—to clean a few things up. I'll be fine, you can go to bed." There was a soapy rag in Perry's hand, and her fingers were reddened and trembling. LaFontaine frowned.
"Perry, c'mon. It's late, you should really—"
Perry shook her head, "No, I can't right now. I can't sleep. You can just—you can go if you want. I need to finish up here." She leaned back into the tub and began to scrub again. LaFontaine frowned.
"You're getting red all over yourself again. Perr,"
She didn't look up at them this time. Too fixated on distracting herself from everything, Perry scrubbed hard at the red marks, but they wouldn't come up. She cursed, "LaFontaine, could you see if you could find any cleaning supplies? Surely, there has to be something."
They squatted down next to her. Gently, they grabbed her wrist and took the rag from her, and set it aside. Almost casually they cast an arm around Perry's shoulder and pulled her close. Their free hand went and grasped Perry's, gently massaging her reddened fingers with their thumb. "You've just dealt with some freakishly traumatizing, uh, stuff. You're still freaking out, and I can understand that. But maybe you could try not to psyche yourself out any more than you really need to?" Perry was quiet for a moment and just stared blankly at their joined hands.
Perry's face crumpled as she tried and failed to fight back another onslaught of tears. "Every time I close my eyes, I can see the newspaper staff, all of them, laying there…so still and red and just—just so—so…" She put her cleaner hand over her mouth. "They were just kids, LaFontaine. They were only trying to help, and they—" She choked out a sob and nearly keeled over. LaFontaine grabbed onto her shoulders to steady her, and she leaned into them for support. She mumbled something into LaFontaine's shirt.
"What?"
"It should have been us…"
"Hey, come on," LaF pushed Perry back slightly, to look her in the face because Perry wouldn't dare to meet their gaze. "Don't say that. It could have been anyone."
"But it should have been us!" Perry nearly shouted. Her hands raked through her hair, her voice raising at a startling amount, "We saved the people, we killed the dean, and we released the Anglerfish. We had everything to do with what's wrong with the campus now, but everyone else is paying for it. Now I can't even lie down without seeing the editorial kids' faces. Those were—oh god—those were someone's children, somebody's babies. They were—"
More sobs racked Perry and she fell back into LaF, unable to hold herself up anymore. Stunned, LaF could do nothing but hold her and sit in silence. For minutes, they both sat in complete silence, in nothing but the light of an old lamp. They'd been here before just hours before, comforting the same distraught and traumatized Perry, but now LaFontaine was unsure about a few things. The whole "murder mystery" thing didn't sound as exciting anymore, and now LaF was unsure if they could even save Silas. Sure, Laura was enlisting the help of whomever she could find, but would it be enough?
"Come on, Perr," they stood up, lifting Perry up with them, "Let's get you cleaned up again, 'kay?" Perry nodded and allowed LaF to lead her over to the sink. Again, they'd been through this before. Perry rubbed her hands beneath the warm running water, watching as the red came off and washed down the drain.
Eventually, Perry had cleaned herself up again, and had calmed down enough to allow LaFontaine to guide her back into the bedroom. Once she was back in bed, LaF slid beneath the covers themselves, not comfortable with leaving Perry alone. Quickly, they slid an arm around her and pulled her close, wanting badly to make everything okay and feeling absolutely tortured that they couldn't.
"LaFontaine," LaF lifted their head. Perry didn't move, curled in on herself in LaFontaine's hold. She trembled, still, but she seemed much calmer now. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I was, uhm…"
LaFontaine gave her waste a gentle squeeze and pulled her closer. "Its fine, Perry. I'm just glad you're all right." Perry was silent. Then LaF felt her chilled hands grasp their own and squeeze them.
"Thank you, LaFontaine." It took a long time for Perry to finally fall asleep, and even longer for LaF to actually settle down and try to catch some sleep as well. For a while they just lay there, holding Perry. The light of JP's protection flickered, then he faded a bit, darkening the room so that they could sleep more peacefully.
Alone with their thoughts, LaFontaine was able to figure out a few things. It would take more than a miracle to save Silas, let alone figure out who was behind the murders of the entire newspaper staff. Defeating the Anglerfish God? If there was any kind of benevolent spectral force out there, may it have mercy on them all.
Suddenly, solving those murders and saving Silas seemed much less exciting and an ungodly amount more terrifying.