Bill held no shame in admitting that he was having the time of his life, a feat made even more impressive by the fact that he couldn't actually remember how old he was, the number of years he'd lived having gotten so ridiculously large a few centuries ago that he'd simply gotten bored and stopped counting.
And yet, here he was, giddy like a pixie playing tricks.
The reason for his recently rediscovered fascination with life could be felt currently trying to slip out of bed, obviously believing him to be asleep. Well, Bill figured, the little brat was in for a surprise!
Not quite yet, though. He was in a playful, indulgent sort of mood.
So instead he kept his eyes shut, his ears sharp, and waited, his non-existent heart racing with giddy anticipation.
Dipper held his breath in some sort of tense bubble in his throat as he slipped slowly and carefully over the edge of the big white bed, biting his lip to make extra sure he was as silent as the grave whenever his swollen, purpled hand brushed against anything, which happened far more often then his low pain tolerance would have preferred. It almost all went to waste when something sharp jabbed into his ankle through his sock, and he jerked his foot back so quickly that his weight shifted and the bed dipped, only fractionally, but still enough to leave Dipper with his eyes squeezed shut and his body wound tighter then a spring, waiting to be caught by clawed fingernails and absurdly strong arms.
And he about started sobbing with relief when they didn't come, but still made himself stay silent.
This time he peeked over the edge before putting his foot down, and was so able to avoid stepping on the mysterious object under the edge of the bed that had just seconds earlier caused him so much grief. Instead his feet sank into a dirty carpet that, where not covered by earth or piles of junk and trinkets, looked like something straight out of the victorian era.
Not a sound came from behind him, and he didn't sense stirring.
He stood up.
Nothing.
The first step of his escape was complete, and that was supposed to be the hardest. He just had to pick his foot up again and take another step now, both metaphorically and literally.
He looked around, hoping to see a door or exit of some kind that he had missed previously. Being at one time unconscious and another time crushed to a Faeries chest didn't exactly give one much of a view point, unfortunately. He couldn't remember exactly how he got here, but logically there must be a way out somewhere, otherwise how could he have gotten it? Yet all he saw were dirt walls, lit by soft glows and blue flames sconces set into the earth, with mountains of clutter piled everywhere.
Some were just random objects: clothes, jewelry, trinkets, small pieces of wood or precious metals, furniture that must have been ages old, thrown haphazardly and carelessly into miniature land fills once their owner grew bored of them, or they broke. That bag of hair. But some, he realized with disgust and a little bit of horror, were clearly organised with relish. To his left, by the foot of the bed, rose a tall pyramid, so tall it touched the roots hanging from the ceilings, and Dipper's skin began to crawl when he realized that it was made of human skulls. Few were larger then child sized, and they were stacked neatly, obsessed over it looked like, made into a perfect pyramid. Some skulls had runes etched into their foreheads and under the eye sockets, or were stained and painted, and they all stared emptily at him, as if begging to be crushed into nothingness and put out of their misery.
For one grim moment, Dipper wondered if all of them were the skulls of other boys, other ones that this Faerie had kidnapped and brought oh so kindly back to its den.
Maybe they had died here. Starved, murdered, sick from its magic, cursed. Maybe they had killed themselves, like Dipper had heard people sometimes did, tricked into it or by their own violation. He stared at them, and they stared back, and he shivered.
Just because I lost my shirt and it's cool in here, he told himself. He couldn't afford to be getting skittish if he wanted to get away.
He looked away easily, not really wanting to see that particular scene ever again, and forced his mind to stop its morbid ramblings and short circuiting, and instead focus on finding a way out. He spied something promising positioned partly behind a short, squat bookcase; a silky crimson curtain hung from the wall off of a rusty silver rod, the lower half of its vibrant red material tucked behind the bookshelf, but Dipper was sure that he could see a bit of glow to what was there, as if there was sunlight on the other side. He took one last look over his shoulder at the deceitfully sweet looking Faerie asleep on the bed, and started to tiptoe forward.
He moved as quickly and as quietly as was possible, until his shoes stopped sinking into the thick, muffling carpet and hit hard packed earth instead, and the bookcase and curtain loomed before him.
And then, just as he was starting to wonder how to move the bookcase and get out, he heard an exhale of breath above and behind him, almost a bored sigh, and he felt a finger run up his bare back.
"Peekaboo, I see you." The Faerie chanted, and gently took his shoulders, and pulled him back.
xXx
My my, is that a new chapter that I spy with my little eye? And, wait a moment, plot?! I thought those went extinct days ago...
Anyhow, yes, this is late. Obviously. But a combination of life and writers block formed a most deadly enemy to me this last week, and it took me a while to defeat them and stand triumphant once more. My most sincerest apologies. Not that anyone really cares anyways.
In response to the person who wanted to see a chapter of this uneddited, I repeat my previous message: over my dead body. But it may amuse you to know that there was originally a Rocky Horror Picture Show reference squeezed into this chapter before I fixed it up. RIP, time warp.
That's it, I'm done. Thanks for reading, though, and I truly do hope that you have a marvellous day to make up for the fact that you had to read this filth. Byeeeeeee!
