Chapter Text
Duck Newton had felt it coming. Something about the calm before the storm. A dream. A vision of the future. In his mind he prays it’s good news.
There’s a figure. Large whooshing sounds in his ears. Cold hands. Red glasses. Bright light.
He wakes up.
Indrid Cold had felt it coming. Something about the way his vision fades and all he can see is dark. A possibility. A vision of a future. In his mind he prays no one is endangered.
There’s a smile. Nervous laughter in his ears. Warm hands. A patch with a pine tree. Bright light.
His surroundings return.
Duck Newton has had quite enough of these visions. So frequently they plague him and so too, frequently, does he have so little answers to what he’s been shown.
Duck ponders the meaning of this latest vision as he sits down at the table with a cup of fresh made coffee to start off his day. His thumb rubs the Pine Guard patch on the inside of his jacket absentmindedly, a nervous habit Aubrey had pointed out to him.
The sound had been like heavy wind. Pushing and pulling. Like waves in the sky. Vague as always.
The cold hands he felt could be anyone. They’d been holding on as if the person they belonged to was hugging him. Duck doesn’t know anyone’s hands well enough. His sister’s aren’t cold. Aubrey’s are almost always on fire. He doesn’t ever want to touch Ned’s hands.
Red glasses. The only thing he has a clue about. They were Mr. Cold’s glasses, no doubt about it. Large and round and reflective, ruby red and solid in color.
And that’s when it hits Duck. Maybe Indrid would have answers. Maybe he would go visit with some questions after his day of work.
Indrid began to sketch right away. The Pine Guard patch — he had recognized it. Duck Newton’s face, smiling but clearly wracked with nerves — he had recognized that, too. Indrid’s pencil flew across the page. He hadn’t seen the warm hands, he’d only felt them, holding tight, connected to arms that seemed to be hugging him. He wasn’t sure who they belonged to. He’d seen something dark flash in the corners of his vision, too fast for him to get an idea of what it was.
When he had met the trio of humans, his visions began to become more centered upon them. And then, even, more centered around Duck. At first he had been wary, but he soon realized there was something Duck was hiding away. A destiny. Something big.
But he need not bother Duck. He could feel the tides of fate. Duck would visit him that night. Yes, that seemed an appropriate time to discuss a few matters.
Part of Duck wanted to delay the meeting.
Maybe wait a day or two. It could wait, right? Just go home, mull over it on his own, try to figure it out as he usually did without anyone’s help.
That wouldn’t get him anywhere, would it? No, the answer, Duck knew, lie with Indrid. A seer could certainly help the “Chosen One”, he thinks. If Mr. Cold couldn’t, Duck wasn’t sure anyone could.
And so, despite his many reservations and his nerves, Duck makes his way out of the trees and into the clearing containing Indrid Cold’s Winnebago. He is five feet away from it when the trailer door swings open, Indrid’s lanky silhouette standing in the doorway. Heat and light radiates from within and Duck can see a wide grin on Indrid’s face.
“Duck Newton!” He exclaims in his usual, enthusiastic tone. “What a surprise.”
Duck can’t help but laugh a little. “I’m guessin’ that ain’t true, is it?”
Duck isn’t quite sure, his view of Indrid is quite dark, due to the lighting from within the Winnebago — but he thinks he sees the man’s smile soften a bit.
“No, it is no surprise to me. Why don’t you come in, hm? I think you have questions.”
Indrid waves his hand toward the interior of his home as he steps back from the doorway, allowing Duck to walk through.
It is hot as all hell. This is no surprise to Duck. It was last time, and he assumes it will be until the end of time.
But otherwise, things are a bit different. About half of the old eggnog cups have been picked up and either cleaned or thrown away. The crumpled papers that litter the floor have all been swept to one corner of the Winnebago.
It is an improvement.
Indrid takes a seat at his table, picking up a sketch pad and a charcoal pencil, going to work almost immediately.
“What uh... what’re ya drawin’ there?”
Without looking away from his work, Indrid gestures up behind him to the wall of drawings.
“Futures,” he explains.
Duck nods. He fiddles with his hat in his hand. Puts it back on his head. Takes it off again. Puts it on the coffee table. Starts fidgeting again with the patch sewn into his jacket lining.
Indrid pauses his sketch. Looks up at Duck. Duck states at his reflective, red lenses. Indrid looks back down again, adds a couple more details to his sketch, and then flips the pad closed and sets it and the pencil down on the table.
“So?”
Duck’s a bit startled. “So what?”
“You have questions for me, no? Is that not why you’re here?”
Duck scratches his head. “Uh. Yeah. So I’ve got. Uh- coincidental- uh- nothing real or- fuck- but, it’s not great, and- sometimes it is- they’re like, I see stuff? No I- I just have- no they’re dreams and- fuck. Nothin’ uh- nothin’ important, or- or like, cosmic, or-“
Indrid raises an eyebrow, his grin returning.
“Visions.” Duck says at last.
“Visions.” Indrid says, at the exact same moment.
Duck laughs and snaps. “Yeah! Visions. But I get ‘em in- in dreams, is the thing.”
Indrid ponders for a moment, his near permanent grin still spread across his face. “Duck, do you know anything about your destiny?”
Duck feels a chill go down his spine. Destiny. Minerva pesters him constantly about his destiny.
“No.” Duck says softly. “All I know is that I got one.”
Indrid stands. “And that’s why you came to me.”
“Well I figured- ah hell, I figured you might know somethin’ but- it was a long shot, I kno-“
“No.” Indrid puts up his hand. “You had a good idea. Duck, what do you know about your destiny?”
“I’m... I’ve been called ‘the chosen one’.”
Indrid nods. “I thought as much.”
“You weren’t sure?”
“Again, Duck, not a mind reader.”
Indrid laughs.
“A seer an’ a chosen one.” Duck says with a smile. “Sounds like somethin’ the universe wouldn’t be too happy about. We’re cheatin’ the system.”
Indrid crosses his arms, tucking his hands under his armpits. “I apologize for laughing prematurely.” He says, enthusiastic and smiling as wide as ever.
It’s Duck’s turn to laugh. “I wondered why you were laughin’.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” Indrid asks, cocking his head. “I have clean cups. My eggnog isn’t expired.”
Duck laughs. “Aw hell, why not. It can’t hurt to have a glass.”
“It can’t hurt to have a glass.”
Duck finds himself laughing harder. “Ya gotta stop that!”
Indrid laughs and smiles wider when he goes to get the drinks, but his mind is whirring with the vision he had earlier. His visions became clearer over time, and now he is quite embarrassed having Duck here, in his home, sitting on his couch and waiting for a drink and a talk.
“Tell me about this vision of yours.” Indrid says as he pours a glass.
Duck perks up. “All my visions are a real pain in the ass. Vague in every way. I heard like- I dunno, this whoosh noise? Like waves but in the air. Back and forth.”
Indrid hums as he hands Duck’s glass to him. “What else did you see, feel, smell, perhaps?”
Duck thinks. “I felt real cold hands.” He laughs as he takes the cup. “Almost as cold as yours, Jesus. Like they were huggin’ me. Maybe I was in danger? Lots of my visions’re like that.”
Indrid takes note of this as he sprinkles paprika on the top of his own eggnog.
“An’ there was someone directly in fronta me. I think that was the person who was holdin’ onto me? But I couldn’t see their face.”
Indrid feels his movements getting more stressed and he consciously has to force himself to relax as he sits at the table rather than by Duck on the couch.
“Then I saw your glasses. Then I woke up. An’ I’m sure it was your glasses, because they just looked exactly like ‘em.”
Indrid nods, lost in thought. His smile has vanished from his face.
“That’s uh- that’s why I came to talk to you. Figured maybe it was all connected or somethin’.”
Duck fiddles with the Pine Guard patch, sensing the tension now in the room.
The two sit in silence for a while. Indrid frowns as he hardly touches his eggnog. Duck sets his now empty cup on the coffee table.
“I’m afraid I cannot help you quite yet, Duck. There is more I need to figure out.”
Duck nods. “Alright. It was worth a shot, yeah?”
In an instant, relief washes over Indrid’s body, and his smile returns. “Yes! Indeed, a very good shot. I’m sure I will be able to help soon.”
Duck picks his hat up and puts it back onto his head. “I better get goin’ then, yeah?”
Indrid nods. Then he laughs.
Duck frowns in a playful manner. “I ain’t even said my joke yet.”
Indrid puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry!” He laughs again. “Sorry. Go ahead and say it.”
Duck laughs and rolls his eyes. “Alright. I guess I’ll seer myself out.”
Indrid laughs again, harder, and Duck is... frozen. Frozen standing there. Staring at Indrid as he reaches a bony finger under his glasses to wipe away a tear.
“Alright,” Indrid says, regaining his composure. “Go, go, before you kill me.”
He and Duck both smile as Indrid puts a hand on Duck’s back to push him through the front door. “Tell Aubrey she still can’t have my glasses!”
Duck laughs. God, he’s real giggly today, ain’t he? “Will do.”
Indrid smiles as he closes the trailer door.
Duck can’t ignore the thought that Indrid’s cold hand against his back felt awfully similar to the cold hands in his vision.