All that glitters may not be gold. But all that is gold glitters bright.
That is, until it shatters.
~
"BARRELS!" A tall, thin man with a thick accent kicks down a prismatic crate. The metal that reinforces it stings his foot, but he dare not say so.
"Keep moving, Pewdie," orders a man of pure polished gold. A silken yellow robe sways gently behind him as he pushes the Swede ahead. The metal man has a very contrasting quirk in his speech, but somehow the two sound exactly alike.
Mumbling audibly to himself, Pewdie takes a rusted key from his pocket and unlocks a red velvet cushioned door. It creaks open on its own. Pewdie silences himself and his eyes grow wide as he expects the worst.
"It's okay, Pewdie, keep moving," Stephano assures him. "When I'm here, nothing bad can happen. We both know-"
He stops at a rhythmic thumping over their heads.
"Stephano, I don't think this is a good idea."
"Sure it is!" Stephano strides ahead defiantly. "Here, I'll prove it. Nothing's going to happen." Despite his attitude, the statuette was assuring himself more than his friend.
"Ste...! Stephano, wait!" Pewdie calls out, his voice wavering. He watches after his golden partner until he can't see him anymore. He begins to follow after.
Pulling out a lantern layered with blood and dirt, the Swede takes a cautious step into the room in front of him. A light flickers on over his head, making him jump. He looks up to a glimmering crystal chandelier.
"Stephano...?" he calls again. The only reply is the soft skitter of little rat's feet. Keeping one eye on a suspicious-looking armoire opposite him, Pewdie crosses through and open doorway into a rather lengthy corridor.
"I don't trust corridors," Felix complains, closing the door behind him with his foot. Unexpectedly, the last drop of oil in his lantern sizzles and fades out, plunging Pewdie into darkness. "Fuck, I'm out of oil already," he grumbles. Unaware of where his steps fall, he advances, trying to adjust his eyes.
He finally bumps into the end of the hall; a wooden door. He throws it open and leaps into the light.
But his bliss doesn't last long.
Before he can think to observe his surroundings, a door to his right slams shut and frantic footsteps make evident a heavy creature clumsily bounding away. Pewdie stares after in shock for a moment before sighing. He casually begins to look around, but his glances grow faster and more terrified.
Around him; torture devices. Dozens of them. Iron maidens left half-open, saws stained red, one of those... triangle things. Pewdie refused to look at that for too long.
But why, he thought, am I scared of these now? I've seen them several times before. Why should it bother me?
And then it hit him.
Pewdie looked to his feet. He stood in a puddle of liquid gold. He jumped back and glared down at the puddle as if he thought it would bite him.
"I think I'm gonna be sick," Pewdie moaned. In that instant, nausea turned to rage. "Those assholes!" he yells, his voice ascending in volume and frustration. "What makes them think they can just kill Stephano like that?" Pewdie puts his head in his hands and runs his bony fingers through blonde-ish hair. A cloud of disbelief battled with inevitable pangs of guilt and grief.
"PEWDIE!"
Felix's head perks.
"Stephano...?" he calls once more.
"PEWDIE! HEL-mfph!"
Throwing the door open, Pewdie sprints after the voice, a gleam of hope in his eyes. He felt he'd never run so fast in his life. Kicking down door after door and stopping only to retrieve a small vat of oil, Pewdie made a straight shot through each room until a futile attempt to jerk open a recently locked door.
"Fuck," he breathed, leaning against it. Pewdie stood up straight, panting and coughing. He turned to glance behind him.
He stood in the corner of an extensive, empty room. To his right, a single chair; to his left, a chest of drawers.
"Hey, man," Mr. Chair whispers. "What you in such a hurry for?"
"Stephano," Pewdie states, not turning to face the chair. He immediately starts rummaging through the desk.
"Wull. That's not cryptic," Mr. Chair retorts sarcastically. Pewdie pays him no attention. "Look, man. If you're in trouble, I don't see why we couldn't-"
"No," Felix interrupts. Mr. Chair raises a metaphorical eyebrow.
"Why don't you ever listen to me?" he whines. He is unheard; Pewdie fumbles with a silver key and manages to unlock the room's door. He yanks it open and continues his running.
"Don't forget Chair Mode!" Mr. Chair shouts after.
