Benedict Fox (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
companionsgrasp) wrote2023-08-10 10:56 pm
companionsgrasp) wrote2023-08-10 10:56 pm
Entry tags:
written prose sample
Spoilers for the end of the game.
"Wake up, kid. You can't stay here."
The familiar voice rang in his head. It sounded more hollow than he remembered ever hearing his friend's voice before. He tried to recall where he was and to what Harry was referring.
The last thing he remembered--oh. The last thing he remembered was the overwhelming loud gunshot and feeling the warm trickle as his blood seeped out of the chest wound and onto the floor, surrounding him in vermilion. With it, his life had slipped away. With it, he recalled the worried tones of his Companion's voice crying out for him. Benedict had never heard the demon express so much emotion in all their life. It was...overwhelming, oddly satisfying and disconcerting at the same time. He had felt so complete in that moment though. He had made the ultimate sacrifice to save another life, and he had felt the love and concern of his Companion in those final moments. And just briefly he had felt the tender coils wrap around him--
After that there was darkness and then nothing. Until he woke up here.
Here!
Benedict snapped open his eyes and called out to his Companion. Before he even got a definitive answer from the demon, the detective began to look around at his surroundings. It was unmistakably a morgue. Lovely.
At least that answered one of his questions. His mind supplied the rest: he had dreamt of his friend's voice, an unconscious instinct telling him to hurry and wake so that he could escape while there was no interference. They thought him dead. He would have to disappoint them again.
He took the time to find and gather his most precious items (leaving the rest for fear of taking too much time and getting caught) before making his escape back out into the world where he planned to disappear forever this time. Though he did wonder where to start.
---
The last thing he remembered was hearing the Inquisitors speaking of his friends and how they had fled. Benedict didn't think he would ever find the Tattooist, not unless she wanted to be found one day, but he could find Harry and reunite with his old friend. They had mentioned using handcuffs on the old chap and Benedict had had to make an effort not to smile at the foolishness. Once he found Houdini, he could ask after the Weaponsmith and maybe find out what happened with the golem. That was like to be an interesting story.
It meant he had a goal in mind. Maybe not a long term one but it was enough to get him going, enough to give him direction. He cared about those people that had helped him solve his own case. He wanted to make certain they got out all right. After all, they had only been there to aid him and they didn't deserve the consequences of his actions. He would find a way to thank them even if it was from afar.
Benedict set off with determination in his heart. He had a long journey ahead of him.
"Wake up, kid. You can't stay here."
The familiar voice rang in his head. It sounded more hollow than he remembered ever hearing his friend's voice before. He tried to recall where he was and to what Harry was referring.
The last thing he remembered--oh. The last thing he remembered was the overwhelming loud gunshot and feeling the warm trickle as his blood seeped out of the chest wound and onto the floor, surrounding him in vermilion. With it, his life had slipped away. With it, he recalled the worried tones of his Companion's voice crying out for him. Benedict had never heard the demon express so much emotion in all their life. It was...overwhelming, oddly satisfying and disconcerting at the same time. He had felt so complete in that moment though. He had made the ultimate sacrifice to save another life, and he had felt the love and concern of his Companion in those final moments. And just briefly he had felt the tender coils wrap around him--
After that there was darkness and then nothing. Until he woke up here.
Here!
Benedict snapped open his eyes and called out to his Companion. Before he even got a definitive answer from the demon, the detective began to look around at his surroundings. It was unmistakably a morgue. Lovely.
At least that answered one of his questions. His mind supplied the rest: he had dreamt of his friend's voice, an unconscious instinct telling him to hurry and wake so that he could escape while there was no interference. They thought him dead. He would have to disappoint them again.
He took the time to find and gather his most precious items (leaving the rest for fear of taking too much time and getting caught) before making his escape back out into the world where he planned to disappear forever this time. Though he did wonder where to start.
---
The last thing he remembered was hearing the Inquisitors speaking of his friends and how they had fled. Benedict didn't think he would ever find the Tattooist, not unless she wanted to be found one day, but he could find Harry and reunite with his old friend. They had mentioned using handcuffs on the old chap and Benedict had had to make an effort not to smile at the foolishness. Once he found Houdini, he could ask after the Weaponsmith and maybe find out what happened with the golem. That was like to be an interesting story.
It meant he had a goal in mind. Maybe not a long term one but it was enough to get him going, enough to give him direction. He cared about those people that had helped him solve his own case. He wanted to make certain they got out all right. After all, they had only been there to aid him and they didn't deserve the consequences of his actions. He would find a way to thank them even if it was from afar.
Benedict set off with determination in his heart. He had a long journey ahead of him.