Death and Pestilence Chapter 6, a shovel knight fanfic

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 6: Close Encounters with the…Same Kind?

A/N: Gosh guys, those reviews are really brightening up my day! Thanks for showing me some love! Enjoy this latest installment!

In the fading daylight, the Lich Yard was shady and intimidating. Monstrous, lightning-charred trees stood tall as towers, creaking against the wind and producing shadows of twisted branches. Grave markers and stones littered the earth in outrageous disarray. Brick pavement parted for weeds and torqued tree sprouts, which extended their reach to the sky like zombies' hands (in the dark, it wasn't hard to confuse them as such, either). Ghost flitted in and out between the planes of the living, reaching out to me with glitchy plasma and energy. But they did not faze me. I swatted them away with my cane whenever they grew too close. (Thank goodness it was still too early for skeletons to rise and wander about. They were even more petulant!)

I traveled the whole region from the Tower of Fate to get to this heinous graveyard, only to be disheartened upon arrival. This domain was much too vast for me to locate one single Specter. Thus, I figured I'd just visit the grave of my beloved. I grabbed some forest flowers on the journey here for that purpose anyhow. (Fortunately, my human plagues couldn't kill plants).

I wandered leisurely along a worn brick path. Frogs slept in the weeds and crows perched on stones. Some crows flew on my head and shoulders as always, and I was soon accumulating a collection of them. I stretched out my arm as an invitation, and one hopped onto it. I cawed to it in their euphonious language and caressed its glistening feathers. But once I finally arrived at my lofty, black obelisk, it was all business. The crows flew away from the spire uttering squawks of fear. (I never really knew why they did that. I assumed it was as a result of its unnatural height or sheen, yet some of the gravestones they used as perches looked quite quirky as well.)

Taking a few steps toward the marker, I touched its surface again. I passed my sickly green fingers along the Latin etchings I made. "Requiescat in pace, meus carissimus." Rest in peace, my dearest.

Sappy, I know. I hardly knew the man except for his eyes, his rare smile. He looked like an angel, but not the kind to which you prayed. The kind whose image you vainly worshipped for its enchanting beauty. A mortal whose image had engraved itself into the codes of your memory for reasons neither man nor immortal could decipher. I dropped the flowers onto the floor, watching them sink into the ground. The obsession was strong, against all odds and reason. It gripped me like the dead, icy grasp of hands in rigor mortis, and-..wait.

Why did the flowers sink into the ground?

I quickly bent over to pick them up, shaking the sand off of them. Placing an unwitting little foot in the hole, it was sucked in as well, causing me to trip. My leg plunged into the sinkhole to the knee. What the hell was going on?!

I tossed the flowers to the side, kneeling down to tug my leg out of the crevice. A growl rose in my throat and my feathers stood on end. Had someone tried to grave rob or unearth the coffin? Well, they could have tried, but I was sure they wouldn't have any luck. There was no way a petty grave robber could have opened my intricate coffin. It was fabricated from the toughest, most impenetrable steel alloy I could find, strengthened with the help of Tinker Knight's locks and craftsmanship. (The only other knight I knew in person before the meeting. I had needed a professional to help me give the assassin a proper burial.)

The main question remaining, then, was...how long? "Had this hole been here for a while? It looks it." I asked to the open air, which obviously didn't respond. "I was just here yesterday and never noticed it. Hmph...the sanctity of my burial. It's ruined."

"Heh, heh, heh...I know." A deep yet scratchy voice rasped, and seemed to echo throughout the empty graveyard. "Such a pity. Such a shame. Such things it all is. I've run out of words." The voice said in a rather cocky manner.

I swung my head around to locate the source of the voice, almost breaking my neck. No one or ghost beside me, behind me-

"The problem with the arrogant is that their world finds focus within their own level. Their concern lies neither below, nor above..." It continued, emphasizing that last note in a singsong tone. "Only among. Only among those they can influence." Catching the hint, I looked up. The curious Specter Knight was sitting crisscrossed atop the spire, staring down and straight at me, skulls and red robes billowing in the wind. He tapped a raven-black, skeletal finger to his chin. In the faint light of day I could see he was smiling.

I stood there petrified by the icy-gray light of his piercing eyes, which permeated through his visor. He continued. "You made a lovely grave for me, you know." He passed a hand along the grave marker's sleek face. "Very lovely. I didn't even realize it was mine. Every time I passed by this obelisk in spirit, I believed it to be the lavish fancy of a wealthy man. But sure enough, the Enchantress discovered my bones within it. I thank you for interring me here. So convenient." He rasped in that void-like voice of his.

I swallowed. "Erm...uh...you're welcome. You're very welcome." I mumbled, numb. Then I realized what he had-

Wait.

Specter Knight is...

"You're very fickle, Plague Knight. Very unpredictable. First you kill me, then you bury me as if I was a member of your own family. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Family? You are now, in the Order."

"I was not before. I was simply an assassin, hired by whomever wanted someone gone without a trace. I wanted to kill you. Seems on that note you should've left me to the crows."

"To be fair, I never wanted to kill you. It wasn't an equal fight; the odds were all stacked against you! But I had no idea how to chase off a guy who thought he could kill me and insistently tried to. So I was forced to-"

"Oh, no, no," He interrupted, flying off the spire towards me. He hovered over the ground. "To be fair...rest assured I wanted to kill you. But soon I realized I couldn't kill you. So I tried to kill myself."

"W-w-what?" I squawked. "Why?!"

He shrugged, leaning against the black obelisk. "I had nothing going for me. Nothing at all. I was banished from my father's farm when he found out I enjoy...exploring the wonders of the same kind, so to speak. And that didn't matter. I wasn't willing to become his farmhand for the rest of my life either. Grain and dirt. What a dull, tiring career. Instead, I became an assassin. So either I could kill to satisfy my ceaseless rage or be killed and get my life over with."

"What? That sounds completely absurd! Why didn't you just commit suicide if that was the case?" I shuddered at the thought, but then again he was already dead. "Then I wouldn't have had to…you know."

He laughed under his spacious hood. "It's difficult, and rather senseless. In comparison, killing others is so very enjoyable. I killed a general, you know. All with the help of my two trusty yard sickles." He chuckled again, but it was undulating, drawn-out, and reverberated throughout the cemetery. Ghosts phased into the other world and even the farthest crows flew off with strangled shrieks. "Hmph. Ha, ha…It's so marvelous. To hold a man's weakly beating heart in your hands. To let their blood slide through your fingers and taste it. To eviscerate their organs straight from their abdomen and asphyxiate them with their colon. Heh. Heheh. Heheheheheheh..." He laughed, increasing in volume consecutively. "AHAHAHAHAHA...ha..."

Goodness.

I couldn't believe it. This was not the person I believed Specter Knight to be. That man was beautiful, naive, tragic and unfortunately desperate. This one was...well...

I was starting to believe this being was insane.

Whether or not I was fine with that was a mystery. But then again, who was I to complain? I was lacking some peace of mind as well.

I coughed. "Hrmph. Specific, indeed. You...seem to have a lot of experience in the matter." I replied.

"I do, I do. Could you tell? Haha." He pushed himself off the black pillar. "Things grew less vibrant upon my separation from this plane. There's nothing gory about killing ghosts, unfortunately. Obliterating plasma alone; it's all so tedious. Such a sad shame." He said nostalgically.

"Oh. Is that why you wished to be revived from the grave?"

The other knight nodded. "'Tis indeed. Although I'd rather not rely on the assistance of another, especially of such a heinous witch, my desires exceeded my pride."

I laughed: an awkward, immediate reaction. "Hee, hee. Beggar."

"What? That's an ignorant accusation! I'm just resourceful."

"Is that how you became autocrat of this macabre land? By begging your way to the top?" I teased. What else was I to say? I was shell-shocked; I needed to lighten the mood.

"No! I was more strong-willed, and did not regret being dead. While every ghost here desperately held onto the hope of life and rebirth, I accepted my fate graciously. I slew those shades and creatures of decay and bone who decreed themselves kings. They were all as weak as their denizens. Obtaining their titles, I then reigned over these dead lands with raw power and a cold, bleeding sickle. Even the living knelt before me in fear, or scurried off at my sight. Why do you think there's neither crow nor frog beneath the feet of this obelisk now?"

I blinked under my mask. Oh. That made sense. "Well, I-"

"Stop skirting around my question!" He hissed suddenly. "This banter has gone on long enough."

"What? What question? There was a question?"

"Yes, fool."

"Oh...ask it again, I suppose I forgot." I lied, but only to mess with him. He was too serious; I couldn't help it.

He sighed, then stepped off the pillar and stood before me. Even when he wasn't hovering, he stood a good few inches taller and stared me down with arms crossed. A strong wind tried to push us down, and I had to regain my footing a few times, but Specter Knight did not even budge. The breeze played a dirge through the holes in his skulls and the tears in his cloak.

My eyes darted to and fro in confusion, wondering when he was going to start talking. What gives? Why was he glaring at me so? It was as if he was trying to interrogate me with those lifeless, icy-gray eyes.

Suddenly his hand shot out and seized my mask. He gently lifted it off my face then slammed it to the ground (I was surprised it was still in one piece). His slender fingers cupped my chin and gently pulled my face towards his. In a low, growling tone, he breathed into my ear. "Why did you properly bury me?"

This position was much too intimate and awkward. Feeling heat rise to my cheeks, I swatted his hand away and replied. "I'd rather not tell you."

Under his shield of darkness I could make out a frown forming on his face. "Why?"

"Because it's...erm...probably not relevant...to anything you're thinking." I mumbled bashfully, scratching the back of my neck.

His frown morphed into the evilest of smirks. "Oh? I think it's relevant to EVERYTHING I'm thinking."

"Then stop thinking. Drop the subject."

"No, I don't believe I shall." He said, seizing my shoulders and pushing me up against my grave marker. I uttered a low grunt. His arms were situated on either side of me to prevent my escape.

"So tell me," He began in a hushed tone, almost whispering into my ear. He paused for a bit to run his fingers down the Latin inscription, humming casually. As if he wasn't just pinning me up against the wall. As if he hadn't just slid his leg in between my thighs ever so subtly. I held my breath so as not to make any unsavory sounds. "What do these pretty words mean? I know the first three. What about these two?" The undead knight pointed to the words 'meus carissimus.'

I sharply inhaled a breath. Goodness. Why did he have to rub up against THAT with his knee?! I was already embarrassed enough, now this?! "Ah...erm...it's not...please stop, I can't concentrate."

"Stop what? I have no idea what you're on about. Please, keep talking." He said in that same sultry tone.

Although Specter Knight slowed his pace, I still gasped slightly. The stimulation was scarce, and each time it hit me was a rush of blood south. "Damn. It...doesn't mean anything." I grunted, trying my best to maintain a neutral demeanor.

"Yes it does. Just tell me. How bad can it be?"

"...I have a feeling...you know...a-anyways."

"What do you mean? What would I know? I was a poor man in my living life. Destitute. Uncultured."

The more he dragged things out, the more it got to me. "F-fine! It means...m-..my dearest." I mumbled in the lowest volume I could muster. Too bad, though. He was close enough to hear.

"Oh? Ohoho...does it now? And if I recall correctly, can't 'carus' be translated as 'beloved' as well?"

"Well, in some texts...I suppose- WAIT! You dastardly storyteller! I knew you were setting me up."

"What else was I to do, you stubborn little creature? I had to scare the truth out of you somehow." He removed his leg from in between my thighs. The lack of friction-produced warmth left me feeling needy. But that was irrelevant.

"Truth? What?" I squawked. "You knew?!"

"I figured it was so. That you had fallen for me so long ago."

"No, I...that's not the case, I-I can assure you!-"

"Why else would you try not to kill me when I assaulted you? Why else would you give me a not only proper but also elaborate and meticulously designed burial, accompanied with an elegant raven spire, with an ornate and well secured coffin, with bouquets of bountiful wildflowers? Why, when you are nothing but an uncaring, heartless, introverted villain? Why, when you enjoy devastating and decimating myriads of hapless humans with your plagues, simply to experiment with your biological weapons and leaving them all to rot afterwards? Why? Why, why, why?

...Why else, but that you're in love with me?"

I shook my head vigorously. "No, no, no! That's not it at all! Would you just STOP!" My voice faltered. A few stray tears slid down my cheeks. "First you try to embarrass me, now you seek to degrade me for who I am and what I like-...n-no, don't like..." I cut myself off there. Too late for denial.

I focused my gaze to the floor to avoid his cold, interrogative glare. I heard metal brush against metal, and felt a skeletal hand delicately rub a tear off my cheek. It then lifted my chin ever so slightly and all I could see was sympathy in those profound, beautiful sky-blue eyes that I fell in love with years ago. Specter Knight had lifted his visor and hood and dissipated the shadowy aura which enveloped him. His features were gaunt and skin pale. He was still a peculiar, psychopathic killer. But I fell in love with him all over again.

"I'm not trying to degrade you." He soothed. "Did I not inform you earlier of my orientation?"

"...I...I'm not sure. D-did you?"

"I do enjoy exploring the wonders of my own kind."

"Oh. Yes, you did say that, didn't you? I guess I forgot to ask what you meant...what are yOU DOING?!" I shrieked when a cold, stray hand traveled too far up my robe.

He wore a smirk befit of the devil himself. "Exploring what makes you wonderful."

"B-but...you're too cold!"

"Warm me up~." He hummed, licking my ear.

"Oh my..." I breathed. "You w-want me as well? Even after all that garbage you said about me?"

"Perhaps. Your playful attitude is rather attractive. And I do love how you taste. Sickly sweet, just like death."

The redness spreading onto my face like an infection grew brighter at the quirky compliment. "But...pestilence is disgusting, distasteful. I love it, though surely you cannot as well?"