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When they were pulled apart it was pure agony.
It was the kind of pain that sent white hot haloes blocking out the entirety of your vision. The kind of physical pain that ran soul deep, the likes of which neither John nor Arthur had ever experienced. To John the feeling of a finger removed from his hand, or even the sensation of flesh rent in long past battles as the King in Yellow could not compare. To Arthur none of the myriad wounds he had received held even a candle to that moment of agony. The pain felt as if it would never end, a stretched eternity of agony. In the end it was mere seconds before the unconscious man and the dazed Entity were rent apart into separate forms.
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When Arthur came to all he could feel was discomfort. He was lying on a cold stone floor and his body ached as if he had pulled every muscle he had.
“Ughhh, Jesus John” Arthur groaned, “what on earth…”. Arthur let the sentence trail off as he cracked open his eyes and saw the gold coloured stone floor where he lay still crumpled. With a start Arthur sat up and, for the first time in a very long time, saw the room around him.
Arthur sat in the centre of an expansive low-lit room illuminated only by windows set into the far off walls. The floor and walls of the room alike seemed to be made of a gold coloured stone that thankfully reflected the distant window light and actually allowed Arthur to see what stood before him.
It was beautiful and frightening at once, a colossal figure that seemed to swirl and abstract slightly when Arthur tried to focus, like a Van Gogh come to life. The figure stared down at Arthur from a simple white mask, like the slightly uncanny heart shaped face of a sleeping barn owl. The mask was crowned in horns and cradled in the unnatural darkness within the hood of the yellow cloak the creature wore, which was tattered at the ends and moved slightly as if alive. From beneath the yellow cloak Arthur could see shifting smooth tentacles the colour and sheen of wet ink.
The creature would be an imposing sight, if not for the fact that, despite its lack of moving facial features, it looked terrified. Arthur’s still groggy and pain addled mind seemed to register the body language of this creature as clearly as if it were a man. Its tentacles were withdrawn and bundled beneath the cloak, and despite being likely at least fourty feet tall, it was crouched smaller to a mere twenty. Its mask was angled down, looking at Arthur, in such a way that the thin angular eye-slits made it appear almost ashamed. Additionally, when Arthur met its eyes the Entity made as if to hesitantly extend a pitch black clawed hand from beneath the cloak, before it seemingly thought better of it.
Arthur was no fool, the being that crouched before him was clearly the King in Yellow, except it wasn’t. Even if the King were not already gone and dealt with there was no way the King would look down at Arthur with such a look of fear, shame, and soft longing.
“John” Arthur near-whispered with awe in his voice. And it was, Arthur’s long-time headmate and friend stood before him, and he was beautiful.
John flinched when Arthur said his name, but Arthur hardly noticed. John’s mask shone with a pale white like a strange moon in a sky of black stars. His yellow cloak shone to Arthur’s mind brighter than the golden floors of the room. And John’s inky tentacles seemed to dance and shift in rhythm with Arthur’s own heartbeat, as if John was carefully paying attention to it for any shift in pace.
John was a splendid and beautiful thing. He was a fearsome thing mind you, and Arthur instinctively knew that his friend was reigning in his appearance for Arthur’s mental safety, but he was gorgeous nonetheless. John was beautiful like a hurricane, like the killing frosts to a man lost in the cold, like the flash of lightning racing along the belly of a cloud. And he crouched like a lion who thought itself a chastised kitten. It was, to Arthur, like staring at the sun, or a solar eclipse, he could feel the strain on his eyes, but it was too glorious to want to look away.
Arthur felt his mouth stretch into a smile. “Hello friend, would you look at this, I can shake your hand for real now”, Arthur chuckled with joy. He then stretched out his hand towards John for a handshake.
If John had eyes that could move in this form Arthur knew they would widen in surprise. As it were, the mantle-cloak seemed to pull upwards slightly in a jumpy and startled motion, confirming that the cloak was indeed a part of John and not made of fabric. Then, hesitantly, the clawed hand made a reappearance. With the claws, John’s hand was nearly the size of Arthur, and yet John moved it forwards so delicately, until the tip of his pointer finger claw met Arthur’s outstretched hand.
Arthur carefully wrapped his hand around the dull side of the razor sharp talon, and as well as he could, Arthur shook John’s hand.
“I… are you not afraid of me” ? John, whose voice was both far more powerful and more anxious than it had ever sounded in Arthur’s head, hesitantly questioned.
“Do I look afraid of you John”? Arthur playfully smirked as he patted John’s talon.
John sighed “Jesus Arthur, don’t you have any survival skills? I’m a terrible god! I look like the fucking King in Yellow and you’re not afraid at all” ? The mask-face of John stared exasperated at Arthur this time. “Well, I guess you have someone who can actually protect you now, but still you don’t go trusting strange gods Arthur”!
“I knew it was you John, and I trust you” Arthur muttered placatingly, before startling backwards slightly as John rapidly leaned towards him. The enormous mask of John stared at Arthur from mere feet away.
“I could be dangerous” ! John growled.
“I know friend, I still trust you” Arthur stated, stepping towards John’s mask, much to his friend’s surprise.
Arthur had been correct about the mask, it was, on closer inspection, indeed a part of John’s body, his face rather than a true mask. It was smooth and hard, like the enamel of teeth, and was shaped like an angular male face mixed with that of a barn owl, though lacking in almost any detail or features. The “chin” of the mask was actually the edge of John's top jaw, beak-like in structure though the mouth clearly contained black shark-like teeth.
Arthur put his hand against the cheek of John’s mask, and the entity leaned just slightly into his hand. At the contact John seemed to find some strength or muster some will, as he seemed to clench his teeth, before shrinking down in size, still dwarfing Arthur, but more manageable than his previous fourty foot height. By the end of the frankly dizzying to behold shift, Arthur’s friend, who was still leaning against his hand, looked to stand a little over fifteen feet tall if upright.
“Can you feel that”? Arthur wondered aloud, “When I touch your face”?
“I… Yes. It doesn’t feel like touch feels to human skin, not my mask anyhow, but I can feel it” John admitted. The entity straightened and stood, staring at Arthur with a conflicted demeanour, as if he wanted to say something but was hesitating. Arthur reached out his hand again to reassuringly pat a nearby tentacle, which despite glistening like wet ink, felt completely dry.
“Go ahead John, say what it is you wish to say” Arthur reassured.
“I… Okay… I… Jesus.” John growled, frustrated. “I… Arthur, can I hug you” ? John grumbled quickly, as if saying something embarrassing and trying to get it out there as fast as possible to not draw out the discomfort. “ It, uh, wouldn’t be exactly like a human hug but…” , John mumbles, gesturing with a tentacle to emphasize his point.
“I wouldn’t say no to a hug from a friend John” Arthur replied with a reassuring smile.
John moved closer to Arthur, extended his tentacles slowly as if double checking based on Arthur’s reaction to make sure it was okay. Seeing it was, he then carefully grabbed Arthur with his tentacles and gently pulled him beneath the edge of the cloak.
Being hugged by John was indeed different from a hug from a human, but cradled safe in John’s tentacles, warm under his cloak in contrast to the cold of the room outside, Arthur decided he much liked this as well. John hugged him gently for a minute, before placing him down to stand on the floor, still partially beneath the cloak, which seemed to billow out to continue to shelter Arthur.
“I… I’m glad that we’re both here separate to spend time here together… If that makes sense” John hesitantly put forward. “Not that it was bad being with you in your body, just that I…” John quickly followed up, nearly stumbling over his words.
“I know John, me too. It is nice” Arthur reassured.
And they both meant it.
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