Chapter Text
“...So, where did you come from?”
Tommy looks up at ruby-man- his new nickname for the unnamed guy- with a face full of roast fowl. He’s too occupied eating his fill and repressing memories to answer, so he chooses to stare at ruby-man, still chewing his food.
The blue-eyed crow is curled up in Tommy’s cloak, which is now taken off and resting on the table he eats on. Every now and then when ruby-man is turned, Tommy sneaks the bird a green pea. Tommy hated green peas too much, even if he was hungry.
Puffy sits next to ruby-man, watching over the tavern from over her shoulder while also keeping her attention on him.
“...Well, you don’t have to tell us I suppose,”
She shrugs. Ruby-man furrows his brows, still keeping his eyes on Tommy, looking him up and down.
“You got a fuckin’ problem, ruby guy?”
Puffy awfully suppresses a laugh, earning a quick glare from ruby. He sighs, resting his head in his palm, choosing to focus his attention on the resting crow. He scratches under its chin with his scarily long nails, to which the crow further melts and croaks happily into the cloth.
“You look awfully young to be out here, is all. Do you have a place to go?”
Tommy swallows down the last bit of his fowl and chugs down some water from a mug sitting by him on the table. Slamming down the cup, he wipes his face off rather crudely with his sleeve, before then wiping his messy hands onto his tunic; earning a slight cringe from ruby-man.
“Nope. Village got burnt down, I’m on the run.”
Puffy snaps her head from the tavern to stare at Tommy, catching him off guard and making jump slightly. Puffy was kind from the start, but the glare is horrifying enough to make Tommy tense up just as he would when Wilbur scolded him. Ruby is also staring with horrified eyes, his head hovering over his hand.
“Burnt. Down. And on the fucking run? A whole village?”
Ruby bites his lip, refraining. If Puffy wasn’t staring into Tommy’s soul, he would have chuckled at him.
“...Yyyyeah… We got raided. And I uh,”
Tommy shifts his gaze down at the crow, who is also watching him intently. He scratches the crow’s head lightly, not wanting to break eye contact with it. Its blue eyes are calming, almost as if telling him “it’ll be okay.”
“I lost my brother. I-I don’t know if he’s alive or not, I-”
Eyes still locked with the crow, he begins to tear up before quickly throwing his arm over his eyes. Not in front of people. Can’t be too vulnerable.
Ruby clears his throat.
“I can- I can help you find him. If that’s okay, I…”
He doesn’t break away from Tommy, shaking his head.
“I wouldn’t want you to search alone. Please.”
Puffy sternly puts her palm down on the table, now standing up from her seat over the table, eyes still worriedly glaring at Tommy.
“I’ll go too. We’ll find him,”
“No, Puffy! You have to watch the tavern-”
“-The tavern will be fine, Bad-”
“-Or things will go crazy!”
Tommy shrinks into himself under the two’s bickering, fighting a dilemma with himself. Does he break the Trust No One oath or cave in? They have been nothing but kind, surely they can help? He doesn’t like making decisions like this, never did, but this is a choice that may even determine his fate and life if he makes the wrong choice. Or maybe they’re both bad choices?
The crow shrieks out loudly, making Tommy jump and shutting up the two while also catching the attention of everyone in the tavern.
Puffy waves off the attention, letting the people resume their chatter. Ruby leans in close, trying his best to keep the conversation between the three- four?
“I’m a warlock. I can surely help you find him. And Puffy,”
He turns to face Puffy, who is watching all three of them with frustrated eyes.
“I’ll be able to watch over him. You need to keep things in order around here, as you do best.”
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he smiles. Sighing, Puffy smiles back and places her own hand on Ruby’s- or, “Bads”?
“Alright. I trust you, Bad.”
“...You two like related or something?”
Tommy tilts his head up, feeling a bit awkward after having been in such an interaction. The two are taken aback before bursting into laughter, only making Tommy’s face turn even more red.
“No, no- Bad is just a really good friend of mine, is all!”
Ruby- no, Bad- fades into a chuckle before standing himself up, brushing his clothes off and stretching his arms out. The crow does so as well, flapping its wings a few times and waiting for Tommy to take his cloak back. He does so and wraps it around himself again, prompting the crow to launch itself up and perch on his shoulder once more. Bad perks up, already heading to the door and waving behind himself.
“Right, well, the sooner we go the better. We’ll be back hopefully soon!”
Puffy nods and waves her hand up, remaining seated.
“Good luck to you both. I’ll be here if you ever need me.”
Tommy nods to her, and turns to follow Bad out the tavern door; one last glance back, he smiles at her,
“My name’s Tommy. Thanks.”
~
Upon exiting the tavern, Tommy looks up to a bright night sky full of stars. He was always a daytime person, though the night always caught his eye when it could. Searching around, he spots Corona Borealis, a round constellation that Wilbur once pointed out to him as a child; always was told with some Greek mythological story, Teasios, or something like that. Since then, he’d always look for those stars first at night. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if Wilbur is watching the same constellation as he is.
His stargazing is so rudely interrupted by the crow, which caws at his side; The bird gently pecks at Tommy’s ear and rubs against his face before taking off, flying into the night. Tommy isn’t as sad about it though, having faith that his blue-eyed friend will maybe return as he did the first night- maybe he has a crow family, or crow babies to take care of.
At least he isn’t fully alone this time around.
“Alright, where do we go first? I’ll follow your lead, uh…”
Bad trails off his words, looking to him with a confused look in his eye.
“Tommy. My village is north of here.”
Bad nods and starts walking ahead of Tommy, incredibly quickly. Tommy has to jog to catch up with Bad, and even he’s taller than most.
“Oi! What happened to following my lead, dickhead?!”
“Language! We need a horse, you know? Can’t go everywhere on foot!”
This guy has a fucking horse too? What kind of town did he end up in?
He snaps his mouth shut and walks alongside Bad silently until they reach the horse stables by the village’s archway. Bad nods to the man running the stables before opening up a pen and leading out a tall brown horse, complete with a red and black saddle to match Bad himself- Christ, he’s got everything, don’t he?
“This is Muffin! Here, I’ll help you on-”
“I can help myself, thanks.”
Tommy shoos off Bad’s hand before hoisting himself up the horse’s side- and failing. Tommy’s leg just barely reaches over to the other side before he slides off and lands right back onto the ground. Behind him, Bad stifles a laugh.
“What kind of tall fucken’ horse is this?! I’M NOT EVEN SHORT!!”
Bad moves to Tommy’s front, clasping his hands together and reaching them out below him to help Tommy step on without a word. Tommy glares furiously at him before huffing and taking the help; He steps on Bad’s palm, letting himself be pushed upward and onto the freakishly tall horse.
Bad gracefully pulls himself up onto the saddle in front of Tommy, snickering to himself when Tommy can only scoff behind him.
And with one tug of the reins, Muffin is off on a trot out the village archway.
The trip back to the place takes about thirty minutes or so- according to Bad, at least- Tommy had allowed his head to fall on Bad’s back to make up for all the sleep he had lost recently, the galloping horse actually turning out to be soothing for him.
Bad only turns his head slightly and nudges Tommy in the side with his elbow, enough to wake him up. The boy yawns and rubs at his eyes for too painfully long before finally focusing on the charred path that lay ahead of them; sleep these days can never go peacefully. He yearns for waking up soundly in his bed by the sunlight in his eyes again.
“Tommy? I- I think we’re here…”
Though facing forward, Bad’s voice leaves traces of concern, maybe even fear or shock at the sight ahead.
Tommy is the first to fling himself off of Muffin’s back, “gracefully” catching himself on the ground, throwing his arms to the side to maintain balance again.
“Yeah, this is it. I don’t… I don’t know if it’s safe or not. It could be here still,”
“It? I thought this place was raided?”
“Yeah, by a monster, smartass! No pillager raid could kill this much!!”
Bad silently leads Muffin to a tree on the side of the village’s entry before hopping off and tying the horse’s reins carefully to a branch. Giving her a pat on the neck, he reaches into a pouch attached to the saddle, retrieving a worn book.
The book is surely old; the pages are stained and ripped by the edges, the cover is starting to become sun-bleached, with the insignia on the front mostly faded along with some writing on the pages incoherent. If he squints and looks closely, Tommy could probably read whatever it says. But he doesn’t. The thing looks like it’s been soaked in coffee four times over.
Turning to a random page in the book, Bad turns up to face Tommy, a cold expression on his face. It’d make Tommy’s stomach drop if they weren’t teamed up.
“Alright. Show me where you lived. I need to pick up some sort of trace of him before I can send out my tracker,”
Bad turns back down into his book, remaining quiet and letting Tommy take the lead. Doing so, he keeps his mouth shut and begins into the village, eyes kept to the ground to avoid locking eyes with any corpses. Bad seemingly does the same, avoiding looking at anything outside of Tommy and his book.
The stench is back once more, of burning flesh and the ashes of the homes invading his mind, and in that moment Tommy snaps his sleeved hand over his nose, continuing on.
About a two minute walk further into the village, Tommy halts in front of a house, Bad bumping the spine of his book into Tommy’s back as they stop.
The house is small; the left side of the home has a gaping, charred hole that shows inside of what was once Tommy’s room, now burned to ash. The front door is wide open, leading into a burnt home. From the outside, the two can see a dead body in the living room, presumably a villager using their home to hide during the monster’s hunt. Tommy doesn’t mind. They can stay there. This is no longer his home.
Bad steps in front of Tommy cutting eye contact between him and the body, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, kind white eyes looking down at him. He looks back with fearful eyes, already gathering tears with the ever growing lump in his throat.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to go in-“
“N-No, I’ll go. I’m fine.”
Bad only nods and steps aside quietly for the two to enter the home. The smell is somehow worse indoors, making its way through Tommy’s sleeve, and making Bad visibly scrunch up his nose.
Not a single word is uttered until Tommy leads them through the rickety, broken stairs that lead to the second floor. On the immediate left, Tommy’s door is broken in, the rest of the room exposed to the outside, sunlight pouring in and highlighting the ash in the hallways.
Right across is Wilbur’s room. The door lightly charred, but the room essentially left untouched by any fire or panic. Stepping in, the floodgates fully open, sending tears down Tommy’s face, who only remains silent as he examines the room. Bad steps further in, also examining Wilbur’s old belongings before stopping at one specific; his guitar case, nestled against his desk and just under the window.
“Did he play a lot?”
Bad almost whispers, keeping his tone hushed and gentle in the room, almost like they’re in a sanctuary that demands respect and etiquette.
Tommy nods, refusing to use his voice, surely cracking and sore from keeping down sobs and yells.
Bad nods back, face apologetic, keeping silent for a moment to let Tommy regain himself.
“This’ll work. I’ll send her out,”
Facing back down to his book, he reads a line from a stained page, written under a scribbled sketch of a small dog. Looks endearing, kind of like a child’s sketch, though it may be Bad’s own artistic touch to whatever spell this is.
The spell itself sounds like gibberish. Through tears, Tommy’s head tilts trying to process the words; it’s unintelligible, but it does sound familiar to Enderian, the language written on Wilbur’s old shiny books he collected. He remembers the few words Wilbur would try to pronounce of covers before promptly laughing at his broken babbles.
The page Bad reads from glows a soft purple, some of it glittering out into the room before it all reforms into a ball of light at their feet. It then grows, and grows until it forms a white and elegant wolf, still glittering with purple light around it. Stretching out, the wolf is absolutely huge, its head reaching slightly above Tommy’s knees. It shakes its fur out before Bad gives it a gentle pet on the head, like if it was his beloved, domesticated pet or something. This guy must have loads of surprises up his sleeve.
Bad coos at the wolf, horribly suppressing his baby voice.
“Hello my little rat, want to help me find something?”
The wolf’s tail wags at Bad, staring up at him expectantly; Opening up the guitar case, Bad motions to Tommy for the next move, opting out of touching such a beloved item. Tommy reaches in and picks up the guitar like it’s a baby, so delicate and so fragile- its wood is worn and there’s a small W.S carved into the neck of it- and allows the wolf to pick up its scent. He and the wolf meet eyes for a second, beady purple eyes staring into him, exchanging glances that say “I trust you now.”
The wolf yips quietly before turning and trotting out the door and down the stairs. The two left stay in the room for a moment, Bad watching Tommy with a softened face, unable to tell if it’s somber or reassuring.
“We’ll go when you’re ready. Do you wanna take anything while we’re here?”
The boy nods and clicks the guitar back in it’s case, throwing the strap around himself and gripping it tightly. He knows a few chords from Wilbur, but always wanted to fully learn it and the songs that he used to play to Tommy. Maybe he can teach himself eventually, that wouldn’t be so bad.
Without a word, the two travel back down the stairs and out the home where the wolf sits patiently waiting. Upon seeing them again, the wolf turns around and is quick to pick up the same scent on the ground, following it until reaching a certain spot and pausing. It sniffs around and whines up at Bad, ears turned down and tail bushed up. Bad’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before crouching down eye-level with the dog, holding its face sweetly in his hands.
“What’s wrong, my Lucy?”
Wasn’t its name rat or something? Doesn’t matter, Tommy shakes off the confusion in favor of more important things. The dog, Lucy, whines again looking at Bad. In return, his eyes go wide, jaw dropping a slight bit before swinging his head around, searching everything in their sight ahead, taking in the scene fully.
“The blood god was here. It wasn’t just a monster, Tommy. And…”
Bad and the wolf both stare back up at Tommy, somehow matching expressions.
“He went north with your brother. Both of their tracks go the same direction.”
His grip on the guitar strap tightens even more, knuckles turning white and probably digging his nails too hard into his palm, his face probably drained of all blood. Not only has a god torn apart his town, but ravished his brother away as well, either dead or alive; he could be torturing his brother, killing him as they speak, tearing him apart or dragging him along the dirt as he screams and screams and cries-
Tommy hunches over and vomits his last meal from the tavern, tears falling into the vomit from his eyes. Lucy shrinks in on herself more while Bad hurriedly moves to Tommy’s side, patting his back and offering water with quiet, anxious stutters.
The boy shoves away the canister, choosing to wipe his face down with his already dirtied sleeve, staggering back up and dizzy, threatening to topple over.
“I’m going. I’m gonna get Wil. Fuck this stupid god,”
“Tommy, no, I’m going with you at the very least. Do you know just how dangerous that is?”
Tommy’s already rushing ahead past Bad and Lucy, even pushing past Lucy gently as she tries to tug at his pants leg.
“Don’t care, I’m going, fuck off and stop following me!”
“T-Tommy!”
Bad yanks at his arm one last time, pulling him back with strength Tommy didn’t know he had in him. His eyes are furious, but his words are fast, cracking and wavering under his nerves.
“Look, if you’re gonna go… take this at least. Please. You’ll need it more than I do.”
From his cloak, he pulls out the same water canister he tried to shove in Tommy‘s face not a minute ago. Its leather is old and worn, but the metal on the top end is a shiny silver, dazzled with a few small rubies around it. Tommy takes it, shaking it around a bit to feel how much water is in; enough to last him a couple days at least, he hooks it onto one of his belt loops next to his dagger.
Bad places one last hand on his shoulder, eyeing him sternly like some concerned father letting his son go.
“I would’ve given you food from the tavern if I knew you were gonna go, sorry… Just be careful out there, please. You know where to find me and Puffy.”
“…Right. Thanks, Bad.”
Lucy shoves her snout into Tommy’s free hand, earning a few pets from the boy.
Bad smiles softly at him and ruffles his hair a bit with his sharp hand, petting Lucy as well as she returns to his side.
“Anytime, muffinhead.”
“Prick.”
“Language.”