Chapter Text
The party ends up going until daylight, and by the time that ends, no one knows where Fabian’s gone. The group, still halfway lost in the memory of a goddess blown away by her own anger, go to their individual party spots, talking to whoever they want to talk to, as usually happens at a party. They only know that Fabian’s missing by the time a bike shows up to them, pleading for its master.
Fig, still in disguise as Kristen, is talking about her campaign promises drunkenly to a group of freshmen she doesn’t know, slowly losing her concentration of disguise self. She may or may not be growing a tail, and her freckles keep moving around, but nevermind, it doesn’t matter. What matters is the bike that is showing up to Fig’s feet and curling up there like a concerned dog.
“Figueroth,” the Hangman says, motor revving in and out over and over again. “Figueroth, my master is missing.”
“Who’s Fi-” one of the Freshmen asks, but Fig casts Sleep on them in response, and that’s the end of that.
“Wha-?” Fig asks, still halfway lost in her story about Fetty Wap at prom. “Hangman, what’s going on?”
“Figueroth, my master has gone missing,” the Hangman says, engine revving up urgently. “I need your help!”
Fig stands up. In an instant, it’s like all the alcohol has burned out of her, danger sparking her into action. She immediately messages the whole group in the group chat, hoping that they’re all conscious enough to answer her.
FBBIAN IS MISSING!!!!! She texts, and immediately there are about a million responses coming for her.
The first to arrive is Kristen, appearing with a whoosh of wind, still invisible but also still obviously in a rush, panting next to her. “What?” she asks, as loudly as anyone has asked anything.
“My master has gone,” The Hangman tells her, revving around. “I cannot sense him even through our telepathic bond. This is a major disaster!”
Before any of them can respond, the other three are down there. Gorgug, Adaine, and Riz, all disoriented and almost windswept looking, appear. Adaine is hyperventilating, and Riz looks like his eyes are glazed over, but nevermind, it doesn’t seem like a particular problem, at least for now.
The Hangman lets out something like a gasp suddenly, revving up his motor. “I can hear him!” he shouts. “Master!”
A spectral voice fills the room. “ Hangman-” says Fabian. “ Hangman, I’m -” but his voice quickly disappears.
The five, or six of them, with the Hangman, standing in the room together. Fig’s chest grows tight. This really is a disaster, it is. Fabian is missing, or dead, or soon to be dead. She doesn’t want him to die.
“Shit,” Fig says, quietly. She drops her disguise and she sits down with the loudest thump that she can muster.
The Hangman sighs then, engine revving down, as it lands itself beside the couch. “...If only we could hold on.”