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castle_perrault“Here you are,” the Outsider mocks. It's too monotone to be mockery, really, his voice is the cool and measured cadence of one who knows what they want to say and will say it in due time. Daud wants to bare his teeth, but he doesn't. He stands still in the enforced silence of the Void and has no choice but to let the Outsider talk. “I thought you would be more grateful, Daud. After so long spent balancing on a tightrope, you now have the second chance that you've wanted.
“Nobody here knows what you've done. They don't know about the blood you've spilled to keep yourself afloat.”
The Outsider changes. His skin darkens and his hair lengthens. His eyes change from murky hazel to dark, dark brown. His nose and chin round out and freckles saddle his nose until he's no longer the Outsider, but Billie Lurk. “They don't know what you've done, and you don't want them to know. I betrayed you because you were weak. You haven't changed, Daud. You're still a coward.”
She changes, too, features flowing like water into something else. Sharper, paler, hair swept severely back, an array of flowers wreathing her head and shoulders. Her arms grow thorns. She smiles, canines sharp and eyeteeth glinting. “You've the blood of two empresses on your hands. Mine, and my sister's. Even when you tried to seek redemption, you couldn't change who you were. Give it up, Daud. You'll never be anything more than you were when you first started killing.”
Daud wants to scream, tell the Outsider to stop whatever it was he’s doing. He doesn’t want to hear this. It can’t be true. He’s changed, here.
Is it? Has he?
Delilah's features soften back, differently now, into the doe eyes and rounded lips of the former Empress. Jessamine stares him down with solemn, sorrowful eyes. He wishes she would be angry. It would be better than this. “You killed me,” she says, and that only, like he's seen on the gazebo mere days after that-- the last job. His last kill. His hands feel warm and wet. He clenches them into fists and the feeling intensifies, so he glances down; blood streams from his fists, seemingly from nowhere. It drips on the cobblestone.
“You killed me,” Jessamine says again. Her voice stays low; “you killed me.” Daud tenses even more. Hot blood streaks his fingers and drips from his knuckles. “You killed me!”
He looks to her again, unable to take his eyes from anything in the Void for long, and nearly gasps. The wound on her side gapes, blood bubbling out like a fountain. She wails, less in pain and more despair. “You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!”
Daud wakes in a cold sweat, entire body tense enough to hurt. The Void is cruel, yes, but not cruel like that; The Outsider can't do that.
It was a dream.
Daud sighs, breath coming shuddering from his lungs. His hands curl into fists.
Just a dream.
Lying around feeling sorry about it won't do anything. He rolls onto his side and gets out of bed. He'd managed to fall asleep in an actual bed this time, an improvement over most nights-- he's settling down here, as much as anyone can. A look out the window proves it to be just before noon. He'd gone to bed late. Daud dresses, attaches his holster and blade, slots his wristbow into place and loads the carriage with bolts (sleep darts, which the castle obligingly provided him with, which he neither questioned nor sought out), and sets out into the gardens for a walk and some training.
His dream weighs heavily in his mind. Not-Outsider was right; he wasn't taking advantage of this fresh start in the way he should. He decides to try. It starts with nodding to the first person he passes on his walk, offering a “good morning.”
It's not much, but he himself is quite interesting and unfamiliar to many of the castle residents as they are to him.
It's no Pandyssia, but it's still uncharted territory.
“Nobody here knows what you've done. They don't know about the blood you've spilled to keep yourself afloat.”
The Outsider changes. His skin darkens and his hair lengthens. His eyes change from murky hazel to dark, dark brown. His nose and chin round out and freckles saddle his nose until he's no longer the Outsider, but Billie Lurk. “They don't know what you've done, and you don't want them to know. I betrayed you because you were weak. You haven't changed, Daud. You're still a coward.”
She changes, too, features flowing like water into something else. Sharper, paler, hair swept severely back, an array of flowers wreathing her head and shoulders. Her arms grow thorns. She smiles, canines sharp and eyeteeth glinting. “You've the blood of two empresses on your hands. Mine, and my sister's. Even when you tried to seek redemption, you couldn't change who you were. Give it up, Daud. You'll never be anything more than you were when you first started killing.”
Daud wants to scream, tell the Outsider to stop whatever it was he’s doing. He doesn’t want to hear this. It can’t be true. He’s changed, here.
Is it? Has he?
Delilah's features soften back, differently now, into the doe eyes and rounded lips of the former Empress. Jessamine stares him down with solemn, sorrowful eyes. He wishes she would be angry. It would be better than this. “You killed me,” she says, and that only, like he's seen on the gazebo mere days after that-- the last job. His last kill. His hands feel warm and wet. He clenches them into fists and the feeling intensifies, so he glances down; blood streams from his fists, seemingly from nowhere. It drips on the cobblestone.
“You killed me,” Jessamine says again. Her voice stays low; “you killed me.” Daud tenses even more. Hot blood streaks his fingers and drips from his knuckles. “You killed me!”
He looks to her again, unable to take his eyes from anything in the Void for long, and nearly gasps. The wound on her side gapes, blood bubbling out like a fountain. She wails, less in pain and more despair. “You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!”
Daud wakes in a cold sweat, entire body tense enough to hurt. The Void is cruel, yes, but not cruel like that; The Outsider can't do that.
It was a dream.
Daud sighs, breath coming shuddering from his lungs. His hands curl into fists.
Just a dream.
Lying around feeling sorry about it won't do anything. He rolls onto his side and gets out of bed. He'd managed to fall asleep in an actual bed this time, an improvement over most nights-- he's settling down here, as much as anyone can. A look out the window proves it to be just before noon. He'd gone to bed late. Daud dresses, attaches his holster and blade, slots his wristbow into place and loads the carriage with bolts (sleep darts, which the castle obligingly provided him with, which he neither questioned nor sought out), and sets out into the gardens for a walk and some training.
His dream weighs heavily in his mind. Not-Outsider was right; he wasn't taking advantage of this fresh start in the way he should. He decides to try. It starts with nodding to the first person he passes on his walk, offering a “good morning.”
It's not much, but he himself is quite interesting and unfamiliar to many of the castle residents as they are to him.
It's no Pandyssia, but it's still uncharted territory.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-05-04 02:11 am (UTC)He’s never met this person. He’s seen them, of course, because he’s seen everyone at least once and promptly made sure he wasn’t seen or caught. They speak back and he assumes his attempt is well-received.
He hums. “Every day.” He remembers training with Frisk and what a travesty that was. It should teach him a thing or two, but it doesn’t. “Care to join me?”