Chapter Text
Drift was scared.
Drift was a scared person.
Drift was a detective.
A cowardly detective, but a detective nonetheless.
Like recognizes like as they say though, and Drift recognized fear like nothing else.
Even as scared as Drift is now however, she sees the shock and preparation to be hurt, beaten, -killed-, mirrored on the figure that stood above them on the wooden platform.
Pearl and Drift had crossed the looming bridge in curiosity, not truly expecting anything more than ruins, another crypt with a cool book at the end of it perhaps. The fog was creepy and the air felt dark, uncomfortable and…very much dissimilar to the butter-like and orange colored beacons- like the one back in town.
But, really, finding their way into the almost-room with tall stone walls newer than anything that they've seen thus far, the ladies never imagined coming across another person.
The figure was stretching atop a wooden platform at the end of a long, long and grand table. The whole aesthetic gave Drift evil-lair-in-a-fairytale heebie-jeebies, as irrational and childish as it sounded. Wings flapped above the women, and they froze as the wild bird snapped a twig from behind them, gaining the figure's attention.
The figure that stood ominously ahead was… young. Likely teenager young, or at least younger than Avid, from what Drift could tell. They had whipped around at the noise, the walls blocking out a majority of the sounds of the forest eerily, although not completely, making the snap all the more startling.
Their white hair was a mess despite the very complex and beautiful bun and braids that it was held up in, strays of the faint teal and blonde stripes that stuck out in ways that told of unkempt curls. And despite the cloth that they were wearing looking like they cost more and anything and everything Drift owned, it was edged with dirt and dust and newly-made stains. The clothing was fancy and the corset looked like it was hand-sewn for royalty, yet who wore it did not even look capable of driving a carriage alone yet. They looked like the very Nobel Martyn spoke to be and many would hate, yet everything about how they looked seemed to speak of contradictions. How curious.
Internally, Drift shook her head, berating herself for analyzing people like a crime scene again, that was all insignificant (even as she tucked the information away). That didn't matter, how they presented themselves didn't matter, because they looked scared.
-She ignores the part of her that whispers of it mattering because information always matters. If she knows more about them, then maybe she can help them, or help others from them. She has the ability to pick apart and investigate, to DIG until she discovers. But she didn't want to, because sometimes DIGGING HURT. It can hurt other people when she DIGS too much, and sometimes it can hurt her. She doesn't want to DIG. People don't like when you DIG. Drift is here in the FirSt place beCAuse of hEr stUPiD DIGGING. WhY CAn’T SHE JuST STOP DIGGING.-
They looked like they were expecting to be hurt, and would accept the hurt. They looked used to being hurt and were bracing instead of running despite their fear.
Freeze.
Some of the figures' tension loosened as they took Pearl and Drift in, processing who was really in front of them and the instinctual fear in them fading as it was replaced with a different sort of fear. Their red eyes were striking and strange, but they were shaking, and reminded her so much of her roommate. Avid, with his fear glazed purple eyes always darting about. Paranoid and afraid and crazy and accusatory, but kind and well-meaning and young, holding secrets of a past he was too young to deserve to be plagued with but Drift refused to DIG at.
Like how he never DIGGED at her and her past.
And now there's another fearful towns member (?), another person running and too young to be holding such fear in their eyes, their body language, their muscles.
As gently as she could, Drift lifted her arms placatingly, projecting the best she could that she meant no harm to them, that she was just as afraid as they were and not what they were actually fearful of. She would not- and has never before- hurt them.
“Hi there,” She began, gaining their focus. Their eyes were red like a gem, maybe like a ruby, or some crystal Drift could not afford to know the name of, or perhaps the moon as of recently. Drift refrains from questioning out loud though, not wanting to offend them with her ignorance of eye-science. Maybe she could ask Doc later?
“Are you also new to town? We were just exploring, before we found this place.” Drift doubted that they were new to the town, but the question allowed for conversation -information-. The- teen?- looked skittish and wary, stance hesitant as their arms faintly shook. As Drift shuffled forward she gained their attention, and in a deep part of Drift she despised whatever made their eyes so untrusting and cautious.
“Yea-yeah, I suppose,” They stuttered out, eyes flickering out of contact with Drifts. Their hands were fidgeting, clenching over and over again as they pretended to stand tall on their platform. The platform was tall, around 4 or 5 five blocks and Drift could admit that had it been anybody else stood upon it, looking down at her, she might have been intimidated. Maybe. It's kind of hard to picture with a scared child looking at her like she would hit them at any moment.
“I arrived about a week ago,” they went on, “But I have not found a town….” They seemed a bit ashamed, or embarrassed, at not having heard of Oakhurst. Did they not pass by it?
Drift considered then newly made walls again, eyeing how polished they seemed against the grimy and overgrown floor, only partially wooden.
“My mother sent me here, to the ‘island holding the manor’.” They proclaimed, with awe in their voice recalling where they were told to be, brightening.
Drift… was uncomfortable. She didn't like this. Whatever this was, whatever was giving her this terrible, dreadful vibe, like… like she was connecting dots in the back of her mind but can't seem to bring the thoughts of recognition and cracking the case up to where she can properly process and form into words, she didn't like it.
“I'm meant to… I'm….” They were biting their lip, hands clenching and unclenching in patterns again as their eyes flickered and they seemingly tried to come to a decision. They narrowed their eyes down near Drift, around the floor and the chair by her but never directly at her. They hesitated over the only finished chair at the head of the table, incredibly fancy and grand and looming like some throne for an unknown figure they seemed to be seeing in it. Drift did not like that chair. The craftsmanship was truly incredible, intricate and lovely, and Drift did not like that chair.
The young one in front of her straightened from their hesitant and defensive hunch, chest puffed out like a bird and shoulders tight as their arms stood straight like an arrow. “I am Scott Goldsmith of the Goldsmith lineage!” They declared, and Drift did her best to hide her amusement from them, as well as any sadness that could fade into her gaze. She didn't think they would appreciate her looking at them sadly. Him?
“I was sent here to find, repair, and reclaim my family's abandoned land before I shall return to my mother, providing only positive results.” Drift did not like the phrasing of those words. There was pride to their tone, but not like he thought he was above others simply due to the family they was born into (like a noble), but pride like it was an honor to be chosen to be sent away, a duty he must complete or… or….
(...Like a soldier)
There was also clear falseness inserted into the little speech, like he was repeating something he had heard growing up but didn't have quite the right understanding of. No dictionary for the sentences he was told to say. Nobles… well the rich were known among anybody that were in a lower class to them as extremely disliked, selfish and cruel as they looked down at others for things that were out of their control, things that were a result of their own greed. Nobles weren't known to be good but…. Some rich kid is still a kid. Kids project what they observe, what they are told and taught.
Drift had never really been close to the wealthy, maybe made a few deals and solved some cases for some, but she never really had anything negative to think of them before. She just… listened. And when she listens, she hears stories -information-.
Drift has heard stories of what happened to young Nobles that failed to live up to standards -to the cruelty they were expected to force upon others-.
“Should I fail, I am to remain here until I am to succeed. Address yourself! And- and tell me of the town you speak of…!”
Suddenly, a distaste for the wealthy forms in her mind, her eyes studying the kid in front of her with anger that just barely rises out of her as she stuffs the thoughts of what lead him here down to where it can't affect how she treats others.
From behind, Drift heard Pearl snort and huff, and she restrained herself from displaying any frustration. She did nothing wrong, so Drift takes a breath to relax again as she speaks.
“Well I'm Pearl, and this is Drift.” She introduced, waving slightly. “Us and a bunch of others just came to Oakhurst; the town just down the path,” Pearl tossed her hand from its wave to gesture back to where they entered. She was amused and more relaxed than Drift, but she was also a bit nervous it seemed, shifting her weight between her knees. “About a day or so ago,” She elaborated, and Drift distantly nodded along, sending a reassuring smile to the unsure Scott.
“And you came here to… explore?” Scott asked, brows scrunching as his head fell to the side. Kind of like a cat. A bedraggled, fluffy and dusty white cat. They seemed to relax a bit, shifting as he probably contemplated if they were being truthful, if they should be trusted even the slightest bit. “Well this is The Castle,” Drift blinked at the title, knowing that currently it couldn't be called anything more than ruins and construction.
“I-I'm rebuilding it. ’N I'm also… at night I've been down in the Crypt, if you come back in need me…?”
The invite was clearly hesitant and thin, more of a ‘goodbye’ than a ‘come back anytime’, but Drift didn't particularly care, knowing that she would be coming back. There were too many… contradictions, for her not too.
Scott was young and rich, yet he was dusty and dirty and tired from work.
The long and grand table was so intricately hand-carved, with beautiful patterns of swirls and leaves, along with a fancy bright red cloth with embroidered flowers and stars and all other patterns, just as detailed as the table… yet the cloth was dusty and faded with its edges worn, the chairs incomplete and half done, only the head finished and appearing as a dark throne.
The walls stood polished and new with texture as the even the stone was carved into with art, yet they were still being built up with no roof and a floor that was overgrown. There were patches of wood interwoven with the overgrown ground, a path forming with what must have been Scotts’ work forcing the grass down, some of the wood rotten while other parts as shiny as the walls, glimmering like the sun while besides each piece is another in a completely different state.
Scott was a young person, likely a boy and likely a teenager. Yet they were all alone on an abandoned island expected to survive with no knowledge of any nearby civilization. They wore expensive clothing and a jewel holding their jabot, a corset with gold and perfect embroidery, yet they were working diligently and with determination without slack or pushing the job off to others with a bit of money. They were dirty and exhausted and didn't seem to even notice.
They likely grew up in some mansion with servants or something, with no need to ever worry about money, yet he was as jumpy as Avid and surviving all on their own in what they think is just wilderness, building a castle from the ground up. With stars in their eyes at even just the idea of doing what they're told, of serving someone else with sacrifice of his own health and safety. Even if his family sent him, he's still… a teenager they sent somewhere abandoned and ruined.
“The crypts… like- where the books are?” Drift asked instead, pulling herself back from her cold analyzing, her smile losing the dullness that her ever-rushing thoughts had caused. Scott's intriguing, certainly, but that gave her no right to pry. No matter how interesting, mystery is no invitation to being impolite. The Castle and its resident may just form a case for her, but it is her responsibility to discover the truth without hurting others. She will not dig, because this is no case she will be paid for, Scott is not a criminal, and she does not have to fear or make others fear. She will not DIG.
“Books?”
Drift was in front of Scott now, and he sat down at the edge of the platform as curiosity overtook his hesitation. He was looking down at Drift, but only in the literal sense as his red eyes seemed to stare at her like she could do no wrong, big and round, a contradiction to all of his previous fear and his leftover tense muscles. Drift nodded with affirmation, noting to herself that she's been nodding a lot, she should speak more instead. Or just do nothing, don't want to make things awkward by talking too much.
“People in town found some weird book down one of those creepy stone crypts.” Pearl offered from behind Drift, and she could picture the other looking around as she tried to recall what she was describing. “We didn't know if there were more, it doesn't seem like it though for your Crypt. Since you've apparently been down there for longer than we've even been in Oakhurst.”
Scott's been here longer than anyone back in town. He's been rebuilding this castle likely as much as he could, between surviving out here after he was essentially abandoned to the abandoned. Drift wanted to frown, Scott shouldn't be staying here all alone, not any more than he has at least. Drift would hate being all alone for at minimum a week, who knows how long before that Scott had been left? And there would be no way to stop Town from finding the castle island… and if Scott's only other impression from Town is… say, Avid….
Drift stunned herself before brightening at the easiest solution that would help her help Scott.
“Hey! You could come back to town with us! Y'know, maybe have a better place to stay than some old guys’ grave?”
Drift did her best to convey how Town would mean that he wouldn't have to be alone or surviving all by himself. Town might be a bit strange and chaotic but Drift would rather Scott be in town and introduced by Drift and Pearl than other people making bad impressions, scaring Scott off to not trusting anybody even more than he already doesn't.
Scott shook his head insistently though, like she had just told him to commit a crime in front of her. “No way!” He rocked forward, staring at her intensely, “I'm sorry miss but I have to stay here to fix the castle! Thank you for the invitation and offer but I mustn't get distracted. Not one bit!” There was a pout on him as he tried to convey to Drift how important it seemed to be to him. “This needs to be done as soon as physically possible for Mother!”
Drift frowned in disappointment and slight- well she wouldn't call it pity, more like… she didn't like the thought of a parent forcing their child out to the forest alone to work tirelessly for their benefit. Scott seemed upset at the suggestion of leaving, even if just to the town where he could take a rest and find other people.
“ ‘Re you sure? We really wouldn't mind, I mean we're all kinda new here, so it's not like anyone could really reject.” Pearl offered up, getting Scott to turn to her as he straightened. He wore a soft smile, not quite genuine but polite.
“Quite so I'm afraid,” he said, posh and natural in a way not at all like his prior introduction and put-upon superiority. “But you're both really nice! So thank you!” He waved, Drift wanted to droop a bit as she realized how clear of a goodbye it was, and how cleanly Scott had inserted it into the conversation. It would just be awkward and pushy if she offered anything else now.
“You can visit any time, just please refrain from distracting me should I be working- if you can, please....”
Drift was glad Scott didn't seem to be as scared of them as their eyes glossed over them contently, his slouch no longer tense as Pearl dragged Drift along with her, away from Scott and the uneasy platform. Why did the platform make Drift uneasy?
Now that she thought about it, Drift hadn't felt quite right since they'd crossed the bridge. She grunted as she bumped into the ever-so stylized wall, wanting to glare at the stone as Pearl corralled her to the door that was within the arch that connected to no roof. So new and well kept yet unfinished… built with care, wood as smooth as the glass of the beacons…. Only as they left did Drift notice how things had shifted, how it felt like weight was taken off of her.
Drift decided that she did not like the feeling of the castle. But she did want to like Scott. To help him. So… she'll probably come back, despite her instincts.
☀️ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨🔍ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ☀️
Drift stumbled behind Pearl, pulled along by the hunter as they exited the in-construction-ruins. The small wooden door (in comparison to the tall arch surrounding it), closing behind Pearl felt as if closing off a predator, but Drift discarded the feeling. Scott Goldsmith was no predator, no monster; he was a child. The dread and suspicion that felt like it was constricting Drift's very soul was likely due what she knows is a dreadful truth she cannot yet reach, couldn't seem to let herself think yet.
Something was wrong, something was off, and Drift knew it. She knows that something is wrong, she knows that she knows what, but her mind just won't let her grasp the strings that connected her observations. No, she has the strings- her lines of thoughts that took observation of every little thing that she noticed, that told her things weren't right- but she could not clearly picture where these thoughts and instincts led, she can't put what she knows that she knows into the clarity of a photograph that could be hanged.
Drift knew Pearl was judging her, felt her gaze heavy on Drift in confusion and suspicion, but Drift couldn't really bring herself to care. Something was wrong.
Why was the air so stifling? Why did it feel like ancient danger in that castle, like even a scared teenager could be a predator? Why would a Nobel family send their child to the wilderness all alone? Drift could never directly ask any questions she had, there would never be a clear or unbiased answer from what is likely a victim. Victim. What tells Drift that he's a victim? What clues has her subconscious gathered that she can't yet grasp?
The boy was clearly untrusting and afraid- which, fair, they are strangers. It's likely that he also feels the dark energy of the castle. (Drift knows it wasn't paranoia with how Pearl also tensed as the air shifted, even as they were crossing the tall stone bridge there was still the instinct of things not being typical.)
Something was wrong with that castle, that island, but Drift could not press or DIG without scaring Scott (-everybody-) off (-away-). Drift would need to find Scott outside of the castle at some point, hopefully soon. Everybody came to Oakhurst for a reason, and causing a confrontation with a young, naive, and untrusting teen is not a good idea, no matter how well-meant Drift is, no matter her intentions to only help. Drift herself would get defensive of anybody, Scott or Town or other, questioned her and her reasons, questioned about why she ran. Scott says he came here- was sent here under order of their mother, to prove himself it seemed.
Pushing will only lead to unintentionally insulting or offending him, and the insulted are not the most willing to trust, to say the least. Understandably, but frustratingly so.
Drift jolted as Pearl stopped abruptly, only about a third of the way across the bridge. Drift blinked rapidly as she became aware of her surroundings once more, spotting a group of townspeople on the other side of the bridge trudging closer.
In the middle of the stone, Pearl and Drift greeted Apo, Abolish, and the Doctor as they came to a stop.
"We uh…” Drift began, glancing back at the beginnings of 'The Castle,’ as Scott introduced it as. “We were just exploring when we found this and…. Well- there's someone in the castle- living and rebuilding it.” Seeing the shock shifting to the other three gaining tense, defensive stances, Drift rushed to tack on, “A child! A-a teen named Scott, not from Town. Me and Pearl just talked to him; he's been here for at least a week, he's rebuilding the castle.” Drift fidgeted with her hands, gazing sadly around the woods as she contemplated what to say. She hopes they don’t insist on bothering him, they just left!
“Not from Town?” Apo asked, no longer as defensive at Drift's emphasis on how Scott was young and a resident of Oakhurst longer than they were, but she was still very much aware of their surroundings. Drift straightened to appear more confident.
If you look confident, they’ll think that you are confident; if they think that you’re confident, they’re more likely to listen and believe. People like following the confident, it’s easy to believe confident people, people that look like they believe what they say, people that look like they know what they are talking about.
Fawn
“I invited him to Town, I mean, we’re all new here, right? But he insisted that he has to rebuild the castle for his family. He’s….” Doc didn’t seem to like the upper class, Apo’s a part of the Military, and Abolish is a butler…. “young, like, younger than Avid or Martyn, covered in dust and dirt. His clothes looked rich, but- he also looked to have been working for hours without break ....” Drift paused, unsure how much she should say with only her gut to guide her. Communication is important but so is not spreading misunderstanding based on bias. “He… was very skittish and….” Drift frowned down at herself, scrunching her nose in dislike as she admitted that, “he was scared of me and Pearl.”
Drift pursed her lips, tipping her head left as she tried to phrase what she wanted to say next in a way that wouldn’t sound…. “Not that I don’t want you all to meet him, but… he looked really tired and said that we could visit any time as long as nobody distracted him from his task too much. It's getting pretty late now, so maybe…. Maybe we could tell Town and come by tomorrow?”
"I'd rather welcome him into town in a day or two than have him make assumptions and get a bad impression based off of paranoia about vampires.”
Drift winced, hoping that they won’t pry and be stubborn in going to the castle themselves. It would be really awkward following them back from where the girls came from to ensure…. To make sure that they didn’t….
What was nagging at Drifts subconscious, why is she wanting to keep Scott from them, at least temporarily?
What is she afraid of?
“Yeah, the kid looked anxious and tired, but we walked in while he was stretching so I think he was taking a break, so there's that at least. Maybe heading to bed, the sun is setting.” Pearl offered. “He was pouting real hard when Drift suggested he should leave, he's been sleeping in the crypts apparently, so you might not even catch him now.” She snorted from behind Drift, shuffling forward.
Doc nodded along and Abolish moved to the side, twisting to follow. “He's been sleeping in the crypts? Other than the anxiety and being tired, did he look okay? Healthy, I mean.” Doc questioned, ever concerned. Drift thought that Scott looked fine, however….
“His hair was white and he had red eyes, literally,” Pearl commented, scrunching her nose not in disgust or suspicion but curiosity. Doc perked up a bit at the description, intrigued.
“Ah, and you said he was young? White hair is a very telling sign for albinism, although I could be wrong, did he look particularly pale or weak?”
Drift was quiet for a moment, unaware of the fact that hair or eye color could indicate that someone had a medical condition. She nodded though, wanting more information that she could connect to Scott.
“He was pale, but I’m not sure about weak. Plus, he’s a kid, so I don’t know how much of him being a thin kid is just him or could be this condition you’re saying he has.” Drift didn’t like how it sounded like gossip, but if Scott was sick she wanted to help.
…Why did she care so much?
“Albinism is a disorder that means a person produces little to no melanin in them, often resulting in pale skin, white or light hair, and lightly colored eyes that may appear red.” Abolish began informing, suprisingly, the group turning to him. Doc specifically had a raised brow as Abolish talked. “Albino people may have vision problems and their skin will burn very easily or gain lots of freckles when exposed to the sun. They may end up sickly due to isolation from others or from being locked away because of various reasons, for their safety or for discrimination or their mental health, it’s rare to see them even if they are in your town.”
“There are also a few superstitions around them,” At that, Abolish seemed to look at each of them considering, the side-eye judging and examining them as he looked for reactions.
“Some say they are spirits personified, some say that their white hair proclaim their holy purity, while others say their red eyes are proof of the devil inhabiting their body. I once heard they were even the inspiration for the belief of vampires.”
Well that was concerning.
The doctor scoffed, but Drift couldn't help but wonder if Scott was treated differently, discriminated against, because of the condition he was born with. Drift couldn't help but worry about how Avid would react hearing that there was someone with the condition that inspired vampirism.
Gradually, the group had begun walking away from the bridge, the conversation shifting to Docter mocking superstition, Drift doing her best to defend Avid while not agreeing with him, Pearl laughing along without truly siding with either, and Abolish and Apo remaining quiet. Although Apo did bud in every once in a while, Abolish remaining stoic throughout despite being the one to bring superstition up.
Now that the group was being led away from the castle, Drift doubted that anyone would enter the castle again, at least not until Pearl and Drift informed the town. They didn’t want to pressure or scare Scott. There could have been another group that wanted to explore the castle, another group that they just missed, but it was getting late as they finally saw the treeline, breaking out of the forest as the sun set. Drift didn’t feel the need to worry.
Things seemed to be going to plan for Drift, she was smiling as she bickered with the group, content. But of course that couldn’t last long.
As they approached the town walls, laughter died and Drift's smile fell. Because from within, all they could hear was Avid.
Screaming.