@murphysgirl
"A demon?" Nyx vaguely remembered him telling her this, but couldn't recall the details.
"A demon?" Nyx vaguely remembered him telling her this, but couldn't recall the details.
"Yeah, no shit I'll regret it," Beckett snapped. "For being a mind reader, you sure are a fucking moron, you know that? If you're so goddamn smart, then you'd know that I know it'll fucking kill me someday, and you'd know that that's why I fucking do it!"
He gasped, freezing up after he admitted it. He hadn't said that-at least not out loud–before. His shock quickly turned to anger at the fact that he'd been coerced into saying so by a tree of all things.
"yeah, you don't remember?"
"Yeah, I do." Nyx leaned against the tree trunk and closed her eyes, feeling the cool March wind ruffle her hair. From somewhere near, she heard shouting.
"Not all trees read minds…" Jeb said
"Do you think we should go down and attempt to diffuse Beckett?" Nyx murmured.
"Sure, I guess…"
"Really? Then by all means, do enlighten me on the oh-so-concrete rules of your universe," Beckett sneered. "Because where I come from, trees don't talk. And if they did talk, they wouldn't be assholes like you!"
He threw his cigarette and ground it under his heel, then stalked off.
Let the tree call after me, let the others be assholes about it, I don't care, he thought bitterly. His wrist still smarted, and his head felt far too light.
"Yare yare…' Vozreal sighed
"I was being sarcastic," Nyx muttered, making her way down the tree after Vozreal; placing her weight on what she didn't realise was a dead branch, she heard a snap, felt air under her feet, and lost her grip on the branch she was holding on to, plummeting through the cold air with a yelp of surprise.
(Oof I meant for that to be directed at the tree, not Voz and Nyx. I just took longer typing than y'all did lol)
He grabbed Nyx/
"You okay?"
Nyx, shaken, nodded. "I'm all right. Just scared." Her teal eyes were wide.
"No need to be scared…" He assured
"Right. No need to be scared." She took a deep breath.
"Yup!"
Shit. Shit. This couldn't be good. Where was Peppermint? Why had he wandered away from Ivchenko? Beckett heard something, little more than a whisper, and spun around. He grabbed for his pocket knife, but he must've dropped it somewhere.
"Beckett?" a familiar voice whispered, and he looked up.
"No," he breathed. "This isn't real. You aren't real."
"And how would you know?" the voice asked. "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'" The voice giggled. "I heard that one from you!"
"Stop it. You're not real," he insisted. "You're a…a hallucination." Was that the word? It had to be. Except he hadn't had any sort of hallucination since…
"Since Christmas?"
"I didn't say anything."
"I know."
He knew the voice. He knew the voice, but refused to place it, because if he placed it, it would mean admitting she was-
He closed his eyes tightly, and dug his fingers into his injured wrist, hoping that the sudden pain would jolt him out of this, whatever this was.
Peppermint watched Beckett storm off, and followed after him. "Hey, Beckett? Can I have a cigarette? Please?" The girl tilted her head, pouting. "Beckett, why're you talking to herself? Are you going crazy like Mama does sometimes?"
"What?" Beckett said. Peppermint's voice broke him out of whatever was happening. "No, I…I'm fine." He gave a very unconvincing smile. "And no, Pepper, you're n-not getting a cigarette from me, okay? I can accept the ale thing, I guess, but you're not gonna be a chain-smoking second grader on my watch."
He paused, waiting to see if the voice would return.
"Come on, I've never smoked one before, an' I wanna try it! My Big Sis Chiffon's husband smokes big cigars, but he never lets me have one. It's not fair," Peppermint complained. "So, why're you talking to yourself? Are you crazy?"
"Yeah, you haven't smoked one before and you're not starting now. These'll kill you, Pepper. You don't want to start, trust me," Beckett said. Great, now he'd gone and fucked this up too. If she starts smoking and ends up with lung cancer, it'll be all your fault. That's two dead kids on your conscience. "And I'm not crazy, I'm…"
He trailed off, not finishing his sentence. What would he even say? He wasn't sure what this was, what any of this was.
"Messed up in the head?" Peppermint finished. "Hearing funny things?" The girl blinked a few times. "If they'll kill you, why do you smoke 'em then? And does that mean that Big Sis Chiffon's husband is gonna die? What's gonna happen to their kid, then? And his crew?"
Ivchenko found himself following Beckett shortly after, only stopping a few feet away from the ongoing conversation. He found it best to listen as opposed to interrupt, seeing as he didn’t have much in mind to contribute. Still, the topic of the conversation held some curiosity up to a creature such as Ivchenko. He couldn’t help but observe.
"That's, uh, sort of why I smoke them, Pepper," Beckett said numbly. "And I dunno if your brother-in-law will die, or what the rules are there, but he might. But he might die of a dozen other things before then. Who knows, really?" He shrugged. "You know, you remind me of my sister sometimes. Cora. You're younger, but the two of you have similar…energy, I guess? Always hyper and stuff. Cheerful."
"But why?" Peppermint raised one eyebrow, her pink eyes full of concern. "Isn't the point of life to live it?" The girl pouted again. "He might not die? That's good! So you might not die, too!" She giggled, her eyes shining. "I don't want you or him to die." Peppermint rocked on her heels, looking up at Beckett. "You have a sister? I have lots of sisters, you know! Thirty-nine of them!"
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