-Arrow-
That voice.
That VOICE!
For a moment they're in the darkness again. In that backyard shed, standing with a suitcase in front of them, and a songbook in their hands. Open with the truth obvious on its pages. For a moment they're home, or as close as. But only for a moment. Only for a moment, and that moment passes with an absolute chill, leaving them trembling.
There's a particular tightness in their chest, a coiling stiffness in their throat. Their eyes dart, head turning almost painfully towards the sound of the voice. There's a prickle of warning at the glimpse that they get. A suit, a weird teal colour, slicked back blond hair and eyes that ring out toxic. There's a chill.
They know this person.
They know that voice. Beyond just that dream. That moment in the darkness and standing by the suitcase.
"Archer..." their own voice is something of a breath, because of all the things that they could have expected. Running into one of the villains that they have put on paper is not something that they would have put on their list of things to expect. Even in this place, it's just so wild to imagine, but- "Archer!" now there's horror, choking their voice, and they spin around fully, hands raising up defensively in front of their body, a tremble down their spine.
They're only distantly aware of Hector's presence still there, and only because there's a soft sound that's almost confusion.
"Aww, you know me..." the other skeleton speaks, voice distinctly mocking and they find their mouth curling, hands fisting up, as they defensively haunch in on themself. "How cute, but little strays don't belong down here..."
They let out a small, growl, before faltering, there's a different chill that goes through them, a momentary sharp pain. An echo that's so familiar. A familiar pain, their hands pull back, curling into their hoodie's neck area, a specific kind of horror.
"Asustado, perdidita?" They close their eyes, a growl building up in their chest, this is something different. Their hands are completely exposed bones, and there's a small chill in their lower arms, their legs... they're aware of the creep but that feeling. That feeling.
"Not of you!" they snarl, head snapping up, hazel eyes glaring. But that chill, there's a distinct prickle under their shoulder blades. For some reason there's that feeling that they're in more danger than ever before. It's an instinctive response that has them swinging their head around, looking from one way to the next.
There are eyes on them.
Not just the eyes of the man in front of them. And Hector has shuffled himself back, moving closer to them. Less defensive and more, nervous. He's expecting something. There's an energy a feeling in the air, and they know that they're in the bad area of the Land of the Dead. But there's another prickling feeling and.
They dart, grabbing Hector by the wrist and shooting forwards. It's an action that's unexpected, and driven by instinct really. Hector's yelp is barely paid attention to as they drag him. Their instinct is run, run, run. Just in time as well. There's a howl of fury and Hector lets out what they think might be a swear before they're jerking him to the side.
There's a stairway leading down, shambling and falling apart but they don't have time to pause. They can still feel that prickling and- Hector grabs them, pulling them back away from the stairs, and into a darker patch of shadows. They're about to speak out when he raises a hand up, shaking his head, and they freeze. Footsteps.
Staring out they see a couple of skeletons show up, wearing fairly indistinct clothing, But there's this weird chill, a sense of wrongness about them. Something about this is niggling at the back of their mind, there's something.
"Collectors..." Hector's voice is barely a whisper, but the one word sends a horrific chill down their spin, a sickening twist and shuddering horror.
"Bone market..." a distant thought, a single post that they can barely remember a fic that they haven't found the courage to read. But that simple word and the shudder from behind them. That's more than confirmation. That's more than confirmation, but there's a worse realization, a seeping, creeping chill. "Miguel..." Hector's hand keeps them from darting out into view.
The people in the outfits are looking around, and they let out a small sound, head whipping around to glare, mouth opening to...
But it dies on their lips and they can't even be mad. Hector's not looking their way at all, his prevention of their dash instinctive, automatic. His eyes are fixed on the figure, and there's a tremble in his bones that they can relate to all too easily. They can understand with the way his focused, but not on what's in front of them. The strangers wander closer to the stairs and their heart leaps.
They're acutely aware that somewhere, down in that direction is Miguel.
They need to...
"There's another way..." Hector's voice is soft, and they stiffen body jolting at how sudden it seems. "I know another way down... W-we need to find the chamaco before they do, vamos..."
"Si..." they follow him, deeper into the shadows. They find that they're staring at his back, or rather at a guitar that's slung around on his back. They hadn't even noticed that Cheech's guitar had a strap... or really they hadn't properly registered it. And as they creep around there's a wondering sense of relief for that fact, since they have to be quiet, and Hector's giving them clues entirely non-verbally. Never have they had to focus more on someone's body language.
Never, and it's prickling, an uncomfortable feeling, there's something... familiar but not in the way that he moves.
Echoes.
Until he's stretching out an arm, removing his own head and peering around like that. It's... disconcerting to stare at someone who's headless, skeleton or not.
He plops his head back onto his shoulders and nods it, looking back at them with an almost playful grin, before his eyes dart to their hands, and the grin drops. Their hands curl tighter on their backpacks straps, and they nod their head. He motions forwards, and stepping out it's weird, this is a more open area, and there's a prickling feeling.
But this isn't a dangerous prickle, it's more an anticipatory one. Anticipation that is amplified when Hector leads them past a building that echoes of schoolhouse and over to a side area where there's what appears to be a giant slide. The skeleton straightens himself up, flashes them an almost cheeky grin, and before they can blink, he's gone, down the slide. They want to scream after him but-
There's a jolt, a shock and they spin around. There, by the building that they passed, there's a familiar teal, toxic green. Blond hair, and they don't hesitate as the figure moves. Their own slide is something. They've only been down one other slide this big, and the speed that they move at. There's a rush, a velocity that they can't quite understand and then there's water catching them.
Slowing them just enough before they're plunged into ice-cold, freezing. There's a moment when they have no idea which way's up before their head bursts back into the air and they're gasping, desperately spluttering. There's a ring out of laughter as they splash and flail, before they can orientate themself and awkwardly doggy paddle over to the sound.
Weirdly enough their companion looks dry, only a slight damp to his hair and clothing. They narrow their eyes, pulling themself up onto the dry ground with damp slaps and squelches. Before they let a smirk cross their face and... just like a dog they shake. Vigorously, which gets them a yelp. And they return the laughter. Before looking around.
It's an odd place that they're in.
A cavern wide and spacious with a weird purple tint to the stones and the water. Their brows pull in and they curl slightly, pulling their damp clothing tighter and trying not to shiver. There's something... wrong with this place.
"Alright... now let's go find Miguel" Hector says, voice almost too cheerful. But before he goes, he hesitates, eyes again drawn to the places where their bones are visible, and they are acutely aware of how much discolouration there already is.
"I... don't want to talk about it..." they say before he can ask anything. It's not like it's important, it doesn't matter. "But how are we to..." there's a sound that catches their attention. Something distant, the disturbance of stones. Stone being knocked down. They swallow, a lump in the back of their throat. Hector jolts, head snapping in that direction and. "Let's just go..." they pick a direction.
The walk is done in a kind of uncomfortable silence. They're acutely aware that Hector has figured them out. Or at least, he's figured out what fate is-
There's a sharp bark from somewhere ahead of them. A familiar bark, their steps speed up without their permission and within a few beats they're full on sprinting, racing down the winding caverns towards the sound. Their feet slip slightly as they wind the corners but they don't care. Behind them they can hear echoing steps, familiar steps.
Hector's own ability to run is impressive.
But it doesn't matter to them as they charge on ahead. Bursting out of the caverns and into an area that instantly reminds them of a jungle. Trees looming up around them, branches spread wide over their head, and there're twisting and winding vines. It's amazing, it's thrilling, it's terrifying, they went from being in a cave system to being in a forest-jungle area...
Behind them they hear Hector stumble out and there's a small sound that's familiar. But-
Another bark, familiar and like a siren. They spin themself around and move to, a hand catches them.
Again they growl, halting more on automatic than there actually being any strength in the grasp keeping them back. They turn their head to Hector, eyes demanding an explanation. But he's looking around, almost cautious, before he lets them go, perks himself up. He tilts his head back and again.
That familiar greeting whistle.
This time there's a whistle back, along with that familiar bark and they spin around. Eyes wide and staring as a blur of colour comes to greet them. Eager licks all over their face that are met with laughter, and they wipe one sleeve over their face before frowning. There's a stranger in front of them, a stranger but not.
The blue uniform, the slightly off-kilter hat and messy hair.
They know this character as well, even the generally awkward and nervous aura, although the bunny down at the man's legs is a surprise. This is another one of their OCs. It... makes them wonder, how many of their characters, the colourful cast they have created, how many of them are they going to-
"Hola José!" Wait? What, he has a name? They instantly scold themself for that thought, of course he has a name, but still, it's a shock.
They don't remember giving him a name, he was just a placeholder character, a plot device last they checked. But they suppose now that they're actually in the world of Coco... They shake their head rapidly. Trying to push past that thought.
"Hector..." José's voice is almost flat as he pulls Miguel around and points to the boy with an expression that looks really odd on his face. "I believe this is yours!"
"Uh... H-Hola Hector..." Miguel says sounding incredibly sheepish, and that's when Milk spots the case that Miguel's holding.
"Is... Is that?" they ask, almost eagerly moving forwards, before their expression drops. "No... that's... that's a tenor..." they wave their finger a little bit awkwardly. It's, an honest mistake, so they awkwardly shift and give the boy a smile, they can understand the mix up. Even if he's been sneaking out and listening to music.
It's not like that gives him all that much exposure. That would only give him a small opportunity to learn, and he'd be focused on the instrument that he's interested in.
So they can understand the mix-up, still they find themself kneeling down, the pressing need to explain, to just gently help him to understand...
They lift the instrument out gently, carefully running fingers over the brass before carefully assembling it. This isn't their instrument, but they have technically played one before, albeit temporarily, and that was an emergency, but once it's fully assembled. They just hold it for a moment, a strange sort of wonder in them. Still.
"This.. is a tenor sax..." their voice is soft, fingers gently pressing down the tab-keys on the side of the instrument. "It's... slightly bigger than the alto that I play, and also, you can tell the difference by the headpiece!" they catch Miguel's attention by utlizing Hector's snap, snap trick and carefully guide it to the neck of the saxophone where there's a crook. "An alto sax doesn't have this crook..."
"Ooh..." Miguel leans forwards, and off to the side they can hear Hector talking with José, but it doesn't really matter.
"I... can't play this..." they admit awkwardly, sighing, before kneeling down once more, and carefully taking the instrument apart once more. Fingers light over the surface, almost reverent. "It's just... not my instrument" but they have major respect for those who do play it. But... it's just not their instrument. "So you'd best..."
"Which one do you play?" The unexpected question makes them lift their head up, just to look in the direction of Hector and José, the voice isn't Hector's, so he's not the one asking.
They frown for a moment, rolling their eyes. Because really, weren't they... no of course not, they were having their own little discussion. It doesn't matter but.
"I am still a novice, I play the alto saxophone." They say, although they're not really a novice. But for the sake of how the saxophone's tend to be measured up in comparison to one another, and since the alto is the one considered a 'beginner's saxophone' it's an apt enough comparison to make.
They're not embarrassed by it. If anything there's a weird sort of pride just in the fact that they can-
The case with the tenor is taken from them and they barely have a moment to blink when José turns around, sharply whistles, and the alebrije springs to his side.
"Magdalena" he snaps, voice an odd tone as the bunny's ears flick "traiga el saxófono alto" he swings the case to his side and snaps one heel and they watch with a certain kind of awe as the alebrije lets out a small chatter before disappearing. He frowns for a moment, clearly considering something before letting out a huff and rolling his eyes. He turns to them, eyes narrowing and there's this distant prickling feeling.
His eyes aren't the only eyes on them.
In the air hovering beside them Obi lets out a sudden growl and their hands shoot to the straps of their pack. Their head snaps around, their body shuddering, they know that feeling, the creeping awareness that they're not alone. They're not safe here, there is still danger, a predator is lurking close.
But they can't see anyone around, the jungle working against them.
Their eyes dart, but they can't see even a glimpse of anyone. So they force a breath, pushing down the feeling even as the skeleton across from them shifts. An odd twist to his expression before he's turning to Hector, shifting the tenor's case on his hips and speaking in a hushed tone to Hector.
That prickle is getting closer. There's a sort of insane buzz that echoes in their head, a curl of the energy in the air and they find a laugh bubbling up in them. It's ludicrous, the situation is ludicrous.
They breakdown. Laughter bubbling up from somewhere in their chest and they buckle, curling over slightly. It's not funny, not really, but they can't help it. Until there's a case shoved into them and they're forced to yelp. An unimpressed expression is what they're met with, blue tinted eyes partially narrowed, slightly pursed lips. And those markings... They let out a couple more snickers, arms curling around the case before the other rolls his eyes and leaves them.
Talking to Hector one last time, before waving them away. There's a brief "Adios" as he leaves, and the footsteps retreat gives them a chill.
A shuddering feeling even as their arms curl around the saxophone case. There's a chill that shoots through them at the finality of the retreating sound. And more than that... the feeling of eyes. They can distantly hear Miguel saying something, voice excited, but they can't focus on it.
Obi lets out a small growl and they sling the strap of the carry case over a shoulder, a growl of their own making its way out. There's a rumble in the back of their throat and they raise their shoulders, feeling the shift of their pack and the saxophone case. They're not a fighter, not really but. They aren't scared of defending themself defending those they care for.
"Ay! Dios mío!" Hector's voice sounds like it's pitched up, fear really. But that gives them a sick feeling, and their hands shift, one coiling almost protectively on the saxophone case, the other around the torn strap of their backpack. There's a rising energy in the air, a sick twisting feeling that creeps and coils in their body.
There's a crossroads here.
A choice that needs to be made. One way or the other, something is going to happen here, and they know that neither choice is going to lead to good things. A kaizo trap, there's no real win here, only a small momentary relief should they choose right. And they can see their pursuers now, the ones who're chasing them.
Those non-descript outfits, and that teal suit. Seems like Archer at the least is a ringleader as he steps forwards, grin too sharp. Part of them wants to curse the skeleton who had just left them with the understanding they're going to continue with their journey. A small glance back, Miguel's moved to Hector who's body is trembling, shaking with a kind of energy.
There's a choice here.
A choice.
They could try to fight, they could scream, hope that there's someone, anyone around that could hear to help them(they know that José's around, but if he'd come...) or... They could run again.
And as Archer steps forwards, malicious glee alight in those toxic, toxic eyes, they think that they already know, exactly what their choice is.
So now it's just a matter of waiting for that opening.
"You might as well just stop running, that anxious moron will not come back and help..." Archer crows stepping forwards from the group, self-assured smirk on his face, and they allow one of their own to subtly curl at their mouth, challenge accepted.
"Oh... but you're underestimating us Archer" they breathe, after all. When you're cornered is when all the stops come out.