Chapter Text
There was someone buried in the forest.
Oliver knew the roots plunged into the dirt well by now. He'd spotted them on accident on his retreat to the forest a couple months ago, and ignored them at the time. It was probably an animal, he told himself as he walked away. Even if not, who was he to challenge death? By now he knew it was pointless.
And yet, he found himself going back to the clearing in his dreams. He couldn't know what hid under the soil, though after a couple weeks it became evident their bindings weren't fading like they were supposed to. The effect could be inconsistent, but it still caught his attention.
The roots were holding a human, there was no way around the fact. One that could survive underground for terribly long, apparently, but still a human. Were they suffering? Was it their own doing, or was Oliver leaving them to die by his inaction? Would action even change anything?
He kept returning to the spot whenever he was able, both in his dreams or the waking world. It felt... wrong. Wrong to consider trying to help, wrong to stay idle. Wrong for him to even care when he gave up attempting to save anyone else he witnessed lined up for the inevitable fate.
He sat by the grim patch for hours, occasionally brushing his fingers against the black vines. They were icy and didn't feel any different from any others he might've touched in his life, stubbornly refusing to give any explanation to their nature.
The chilly days of early spring gave way to warm, humid air of the summer. The soil was soft under Oliver's feet as he walked into the clearing, taking his usual place next to the curling roots. They might've been a little smaller, but he chalked it up to his imagination.
"Hey." He started, soft. He was just talking to himself, he was well aware of it, but even pretending the person buried underneath the earth could hear him made it felt right. He hadn't had many chances to talk to anyone lately.
"Nature has finally woken up fully up here. It's beautiful, really." It was. The sun shining through the leaves overhead dappled the ground and Oliver with its scattered rays. He could hear birds chirping all around up in the trees, insects were lazily buzzing over the flowers growing nearby, and the shade was just enough to keep the heat out of the space. He was leaning his back against a tall red oak growing near the disturbed soil. "I wonder if you'd like it too."
He couldn't know, of course. He knew nothing of the person he was coming to think of as a friendly presence despite never seeing them. This was silly, really... but what else was he to do? It would nag at his brain if he tried to forget about it completely, and yet something was stopping him from getting a shovel and trying to change things himself. It wasn’t his place to.
And so he kept talking. He kept coming back as the unbearably hot days slowly became cooler again, trying to make one sided small talk and telling the imagined stranger about his mundane life. He'd been getting better at talking, even if he was just practicing with himself, so it wasn't a complete waste.
It was becoming a little ritual of his to drive out every Sunday. It helped him relax after a week of work and quiet his mind. Almost like visiting a grave, he thought to himself humorously. It was, in a way. An unmarked grave holding someone who still couldn't reach that forever rest his patron could offer.
The September day was still relatively warm as Oliver made his way to the well known spot for now. He sat under the oak, looking at the tangled, inky roots just by his feet. They were looking much weaker today, shrinking and fading. After so long...
"It's starting to get less warm up here. Still pleasant, just not as oppresive as the usual heat." He hummed. "I like the cold, actually. I know many people don't, but I never really minded it all that much. It feels... familiar, really. With the strings and all." He sighed. "I know you can't feel them, though. Is it warm for you down there? I imagine it must be." He chuckled awkwardly.
He shifted, lying down on his side next to the vines and ignoring the dirt that clung to his clothes. Nothing felt different, of course, but in a way he felt closer to the soul beneath. "I hope you're okay down there. I doubt it, your fate is clear to me, but... I can still hope, no?" He kept talking, even as the roots finally dissolved and left nothing in their wake. He should've expected it, but the loss was felt nonetheless.
It would be okay. Maybe he could still come here, maybe he could visit the spot like an actual grave now. It would stay here, along with what remained of the one finally claimed by his patron.
"Rest now. Just... rest." He sighed, closing his eyes. He felt so very tired all of the sudden, and the easy warmth of the day wasn't doing anything to help him stay awake. The week had worn him out, and it was all crashing onto him now, easily knocking him out.
In his dream, he wandered the forest this time. It was rich with tendrils reaching for its wildlife, even denser than in London. Many were tiny, foretelling the deaths of insects, but larger ones enveloping squirrels or even a deer were present too. Despite it all, it was... peaceful. A nice change from the concrete jungle he was used to exploring almost every night.
The usual eerie glow of the city was replaced with dying sunlight streaming in through the leaves, casting wild shadows that mixed with the pitch black strings covering the surfaces. The air was completely still, yet it didn't really feel unsettling.
Then, Oliver was startled awake. He shot up in his spot, his vision briefly going dark from how quick the movement was. Once it cleared he looked around, his eyes going wide as he realized what was going on. The patch of disturbed ground was stirring, moving from the inside as something clawed its way out. He was frozen for a moment, just watching the scene until pale fingers breached the surface.
That was enough to get him out of his trance. He rushed forward, starting to push the loose soil to the side and aid the trapped human before he could really think about it. None of this made any sense, but his instincts were taking over. After a few minutes he was finally able to catch the man's arms, pulling him out with no small amount of effort. He went through the motions, putting him in recovery position before even getting a good look at him.
He was short, thin and completely covered in dirt. His clothes must've been elegant once, but by now they were just a filthy, tattered mess like the rest of his person. His hair was too clumped with mud to really determine color or length, and that wasn't nearly as alarming as the fact that he was violently coughing up dirt. The position was fortunately helping, and the only other thing Oliver could do to help was putting a hand on the man's back reassuringly.
The gagging died down after a few minutes, and the stranger slowly pushed himself up. His eyes were an impossibly bright blue, seeming to bore straight through Oliver as they studied him. The silence seemed to stretch on, until the prophet finally decided to speak up. "...Are you alright?"
The man opened his mouth, clearly trying to speak, but the noise that left his throat was just a strained whimper. Oliver winced, a little unsure what to do. He ran through his limited options, then sat back and hesitantly motioned the man closer.
The stranger did crawl closer, pretty much collapsing against Oliver. Despite his best judgment, the latter wrapped his arms around him and held him closer, hoping it would at least be some comfort. He was wholly unprepared for any of this, but at least the gesture seemed to work.
He looked up at the sky, biting his lip. The sun would set in an hour or so, and he had to figure out what to do with this until then.