Chapter Text
It was shocking how they were alive, given their condition. Their entire body was unstable, kept together purely by luck and magic, dripping yet never decaying nor showing a sign, merged into one with red and blue. It was disgusting. This was all meant to be a magic trick, one that was temporary. Disorientation ruled their world as they tried to move along.
Half of their face was numb. Who was previously Artful refused to try and move, so Lizzy had to drag the both of them further and further into the woods with their blood-stained hands. It was difficult. Thinking was too hard for now, so they spoke through a dry throat.
“Everything hurts.” Artful.
“I know.” Lizzy.
“I want to go back.” Artful.
“I don’t think we can.” Lizzy.
Tears flowed from their right eye. They’d been flowing. Their limbs tensed, flesh melting and yet not, dead but alive. Their legs dragged to the front to walk, one after another after another. Everything was tight, painful, hurting. Their skin-no-longer clung desperately to what was left, heart racing despite not being able to feel it anymore. Lizzy continued to drag themselves through and through.
“Please help me.”
“It hurts.”
“I can’t do this alone anymore.” She tried to take another step, another breath for the both of them. Did they even have lungs anymore? A system to keep them alive?
“We need to sit down. Rest. Something.” Artful cried, blurring their vision with pitch black tears. “We need to stop. We need to reverse this.” Their throat hurt the more that they spoke to one another, burning and stinging and all feelings alike. “I could fix this.” A lie.
They felt everything. The moving of their legs. The burning in their calves, arms, throat, eyes. How light their head was, how much it hurt too. How their thoughts partially overlapped, becoming a cacophony of noise. How they could feel every movement, each their own and not. The way that their flesh would rot but stay in place, not do anything and yet feel like it was in flames. Nothing went unseen, unfelt, unheard. Their senses sobbed for relief.
“I want to sleep.”
“We are not safe.”
“We need to stop.” Artful tried to go limp. Lizzy didn’t let him.
“We are not safe.”
“We are fine!” Their throat burned as he yelled, causing hacking and coughing and the expelling of black liquid that could only be assumed to be blood. Or was it spit? One hand covered the basically nonfunctional mouth, the other gently grabbed onto the neck. Perhaps it was better to think; the pain made everything foggy, however.
It hurts.
I know.
I want it to stop.
I know.
Can we sleep?
Not yet.
Why can’t we sleep?
Not safe.
Why aren’t we safe?
Stop thinking.
You didn’t answer my question.
Please. Stop.
I can’t stop, I’m worried.
Please, Artful.
They bickered in their head, hands still remaining, the touch light, consciousness beginning to fade. How long had they been awake by now? Two days?
I’m sorry, Lizzy.
We aren’t safe.
We’ll be okay to rest for a little while.
It hurts.
I know, it’ll be okay.
Their legs began to give out, knees on the verge of faltering as they continued the back-and-fourth.
We can’t rest.
It’ll be okay.
We’re going to die.
We’ll be okay.
Seconds later, their knees gave out. A garbled and simultaneous scream and verbal expression of pain occurred in unison, right from their mouth. Their hands caught them on the dirt, begging for mercy. Every speck of what was below could be felt on their melting, dry palms.
I’m so sorry.
This isn’t your fault, Lizzy.
I can’t save us.
There’s nothing to be saved from.
They weeped. Black and red and blue stained the unaffected grass below them, turning dust slowly into mud. The same dust that was under their hands, driving them mad, made them want to scrape it all off until they were nothing more than that same mud that they’d been making with that fluid from their eyes. Were they even tears? Tears weren’t meant to be that color. Their flesh sunk into the ground, or that’s how it felt.
The pain filling their senses began to fade as their head got even lighter, tears mixing with melted tissue from their skull that never really existed in the first place, did it? Did they have bones anymore, did they have true flesh and skin? Did they have anything that defined them as human anymore? Did pain do the job? Though they never said or thought it, the both of them hoped not. Their suffering was immense.
I’m sorry.
Their head dipped down more, meeting the filth below them for just a second as Artful, for once, tried to move. He dragged their body up, tried to get onto their knees, but collapsed once more with a sprawled hand outward, trying to grasp for something, anything, to help him up. He wanted to try again, but just falling ruined any chance.
We are safe, Lizzy.
Why did you try to move?
Comfort.
You know we aren’t safe.
We are safe, Lizzy.
Their internal voices began to fade as they themselves began to as well. They couldn’t hear each other anymore. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t call out for help. Lizzy wanted to scream. Artful felt as if he had no mouth to do so anymore.
They relaxed unwillingly into the floor, eyes appearing open despite the fact that they were no longer. That same tear-like liquid, thin and black and unknown and disgusting, seeped out of their eyes even as they forcibly shut down by their prolonged fatigue. They lay uncomfortably unconscious on the grass and dirt, head lulled to the side, and they’d lay there for quite a while.
But despite that?
It still hurt.