Vanish (Lovecraft AU)
Jun. 27th, 2018 01:05 pmDirectly follows Protection
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The solid barrier of gold at the edge of Bradford’s mind told him that Will was mad at him.
It was not his fault.
Just because he thought something does not mean he made it happen. He was a mortal man without any magical talent. He didn’t have the ability to make things happen. Even if he did, it’s not like he wanted the Avenger to get attacked.
A giant crab tried to sneak its way into the salvaged supplies they’d gathered on the beach.
Will hit it with a stick. It grabbed it with its pincers, beginning the dumbest tug-o-war fight Bradford had ever seen.
Will clenched his jaw, and yanked with all his might. Throwing both the stick and the crab out into the water.
“We probably could have eaten that,” Bradford said.
Will threw out his arms to gesture around them. At least five other crabs could be seen up and down the beach. Each one with pincers strong enough to crush their skulls while they slept.
“I don’t suppose you know how to make a spear?” Bradford asked.
In hindsight, maybe asking the non-corporeal entity if he knew how to make one of the most primitive weapons ever created wasn’t a good idea.Will didn’t like water.
A fact he’d kept secret from Bradford up until The Avenger got underway.
He spent much of his freetime on that first day holding a shivering Will who couldn’t decide if being out of sight of the water was worth the possibility of being trapped below deck in the event of a sinking.
Will constantly moved his location, tapping out Morse code on railings and humming unearthly tunes. His mind snapping against the edges of Bradford’s.
“Do you want to go home?”
‘N-O-O-O-O-O’
He continued to tap ‘O’ for several minutes.
On the second day, Will settled for being on deck. Huddled up far away from the edge. He pushed Bradford away. Determined not to be too much of a burden than he already was.
On the third night at sea, Will eventually returned to their cabin. Crawling into bed with him, his mind calmer now. It still had a nervous shift to it, but Will had made peace.
Bradford hoped the ship wouldn’t be attacked. If it were, he didn’t know if he’d ever convince Will to get on a boat ever again.
Will gripped his nightshirt at that line of thinking.
Ms. Elena Dragunova was the greatest hunter on the east coast. Some might say, the greatest hunter currently living in the United States.
Hunting animals had lost its charm five years ago, which gave her a loss over what to do next. Being introduced to Konstantin Volikov at a party in New York had turned into a blessing. He introduced her to a world where the game was always far larger and sometimes infinitely more intelligent.
The Reaper Moon Lodge has its…quirks, but the people of Arkham tolerated them for all they did to keep the nastiest of monsters away. Cultists and Eldritch things had come to learn to be wary of the Lodge’s grounds. People knew where to run if set upon.
Few abominations were daring enough to step foot on their lands.
‘Will Weir’ proved to be the exception. Always accompanied by that Investigator it managed to charm. Or mind control, if you believed Volk’s accusations.
Weir was mute. Either out of choice or a continuing inability to understand the body it inhabited, Dragunova did not know.
It certainly understood language when spoken too, but its understanding of social norms remained spotty at best. Proving time and time again this creature did not belong among them.
Though, admittedly, she had a time holding back her laughter when Weir picked up one of their hound’s balls and threw it across the dining room. Pointing after the the thrown ball. Its look expectant.
Volk’s face went white with rage.
If Mr. Bradford hadn’t rushed in to see what all the yelling was about, there might have been a very dead alien bloodying up the carpet. He dragged off his partner who was still unperturbed by the fact Volk had reached for his knife.
Weir waved goodbye at them as Mr. Bradford dragged him out the door.
Bradford, as a rule, did not look up his family history. It might have been superstition among Investigators, but he had personally witnessed the downfall of three colleagues doing just that. One was a coincidence. Two, spooky. Three, a confirmation.
He even went so far as to turn down invitations to family reunions. Not worth the risk when all he’d get is free food.
Some things were unavoidable. Like his a once removed aunt turning up out of the blue in the middle of the night. He wasn’t the type of person to turn her away no matter how badly he wanted to.
While Bradford rushed to make his bedroom presentable for her to stay in for lack of a guest room, Will sat with her. Letting her prattle on while he astral projected to god knows where.
He heard the words ‘ancestors’ and ‘legacy’ said while he was stuffing Will’s clothes in a bag, and knew he was going to have a hell of a time dodging landmines over the next few days.
Will, he’d come to realize, thought of everything non-human as a type of dog…and Bradford wasn’t all that certain he didn’t see some humans as loveable dogs. Like Mr. Volikov who owned the Reaper Moon Lodge. The man disliked Will with a passion, but Will regarded the constant derision like you would a particularly loud canine.
This wasn’t true of all humans. Lily and her father were fully fledged individuals beings in Will’s eyes. As was that Dr. Tygan, and a number of others. Not all of them were people Will liked. Dr. Goodchild at the Asylum, for example.
Bradford couldn’t figure out a rhyme or reason behind it. He suspected it was a cultural thing unique to extradimensional non-corporeal entities. A stark reminder Will didn’t see the world like he did.
All this in mind was the reason Bradford was unsurprised when Will’s first instinct upon seeing a night-gaunt was to try and teach it how to fetch.
Walking through the woods outside Arkham after dark couldn’t be called safe by any stretch of the imagination. But the rising number of bodies found mutilated was becoming alarming.
At least Will was enjoying himself.
He waved a stick, Jane following the movement with a wagging tail. When he tossed it, her paws slipped on some of the wet foliage as she bolted after it.
Will watched her go before catching sight of something among the leaves. He picked it.
The gold at the edges of Bradford’s mind sang in delight.
Will wiped the mud off. He ran over to where Bradford stood surveying the area.
“What is it?” Bradford glanced at Will only briefly. He saw cheeks flushed from the cold and a grin spread across his face.
Will held out a glowing stone.
“For me?” Bradford asked as Jane returned with the stick. She dropped it at their feet, waiting patiently.
Will nodded.
“What is it?” He took it, trusting that Will wouldn’t give him anything dangerous. The rock felt like ice. The magic in it a familiar feeling.
‘Safety,’ Will seemed to say.
Or maybe ‘home’. Could be either. Could be both.
Will shook his head. He held up one finger.
“Safety, then?” Bradford asked.
He felt agreement.
“Why not home?” Bradford pocketed the rock. He could feel the chill through his coat and sweater.
Will smiled. He pressed a hand to Bradford’s chest.
That might have gotten him a passionate kiss if it weren’t for the sudden smell of rotting flesh sent to them on a gust of wind.