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Verity was gonna kill Lookout, he swears on whatever god is out there, if there even is one.
It had been a full 12 hours since Verity had last seen him, him constantly activating his iconic ‘Touch reminder’ alarm, and yet, no Lookout. Can you believe that? Unbelievable! Making Verity go out and search for him like some desperate pup. He was gonna make Lookout regret this, for sure.
Once he found him, that is.
Lookout had said it’d be a quick trip out, just killing some animals and getting food, maybe mine a thing or two. Quick, easy. And yet, he had not yet returned.
Some distant part of Verity worried whether something had actually happened to Lookout, but he quickly dismissed the idea.
I mean, come on, this was Lookout he was talking about! The man was constantly acting either high or insane, or both. He stared death down in the face and spat on it. Whether that was brave or idiotic was up to interpretation.
Yeah, Lookout was just fine. He probably just got lost, or lost track of time and is now on a killing spree-
The smell hit Verity first.
Blood. Human blood.
Verity rolled to a sudden stop, as if having been frozen. He had been alive for more than a hundred years, he was able to tell the difference between human and animal blood. Not to mention the fact he quite literally knew everything.
But it didn’t make sense. This was a single-player world. Which meant Lookout… no, Verity refused to entertain the possibilities. Lookout probably just got too reckless and injured himself a little. He was fine. He had to be.
But the smell, it was so overwhelming. As if dozens of liters had spilled out onto the ground.
Verity looked around desperately, trying to find Lookout’s iconic hat, his regular teal shirt, his purple pants, anything to give a clue as to where he was.
Verity spotted the body. He felt like he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, even if he actually didn’t have to, couldn’t do anything. His body refused to move, refused to listen, as if stuck in a trance.
Lookout lay there, face blank, eyes distant, cold, lifeless. His clothes has rips and tears in them. His body has claw marks and gouges all over his body. His sword lay bloody next to him, a testament to him attempting to fight back, and failing. His cigarette that he always has in his mouth lays burnt out on the grass next to him, forgotten.
But what forced Verity to finally move closer was the amount of red on the grass all around the body, some still fresh, still oozing out of what was once it’s occupant, so dried up, showing just how long Lookout had been laying there alone. Dying. In pain. With Verity nowhere nearby.
Verity came close by and just stared for a moment before turning into his human-y form. Not quite monster or human, but not quite a ball either, something in between.
He dropped to his knees, frantically crawling towards the body and just looking over it while his arms flail by his side, completely unsure on what to do.
He leans down and takes Lookout’s torso into his hands, looking over him desperately as if there was a way to save him.
“No, no no no no NO! Lookout? Hey, Lookout! Can you hear me? Wake up, you have to wake up. WAKE UP DAMNIT!”
He tried shaking him as if he were asleep, yelling at him to wake up. But some deep, small part of him already knew. There was no saving him. There wasn’t for hours. Hours where Verity hadn’t been by his side.
Verity cups Lookout’s cheek and just presses his forehead against the body’s, silent now. His shoulders shake as he distantly realises he’s crying, oily, dark tears running from his charcoal black eyes.
“Please, Lookout… you have to wake up. I won’t force you to do anything anymore. I’ll even disactivate the touch reminder, just… please… wake up…”
He looked down at Lookout’s lifeless face and kisses his lips delicately. They’re cold, as if there wasn’t already proof of Lookout being gone all around him.
He places the body down and just kneels over it for a few moments before laying down in the grass next to it and hugs it close to himself, pretends everything’s alright, Lookout’s just sleeping. He’ll wake up eventually.
Verity pays no mind to the red soaking up in his usually pristine and formal outfit.
Pays no mind to the contradiction of warm blood and a cold body.
He doesn’t pay mind to any of it.
He’ll blame himself for the rest of his existence, that he wasn’t here during Lookout’s final moments, couldn’t protect him.
Couldn’t prevent all of this.
For now, he’ll pretend everything is alright, nothing’s wrong.
Even though everything is wrong right now.