There's a lot he could ask and even more he wants to know and the crowd of questions briefly paralyzes him. Then he realizes there's only one that's really significant. It's the one that solves all the others.
He asked. That doesn't mean Arthur knows how to answer.
"Maybe... because you're here, instead, that means you're different, now. That whenever we leave this place, you'll be able to do something else. Find a path that doesn't lead you falling directly into Larson's lap."
"He used you. Made you do all the hard work of- I-I don't know, summoning servants, dragging items across realities, o-or making them. Using you to kill people, and show off the power Larson had, the control he had over you."
He finds a couple of mugs. "But it was killing you. Killing you both, actually. Every time you projected out of him it drained Larson more, and when he used your magic, like a fucking battery, you were weaker. You weren't meant to be contained by him."
Once again, he is overwhelmed by the So Much Ness of all that. There's so much information in that brief description, and so much of it is awful. But he wants to know, too, he wants to know how to summon servants and drag items across realities or make them. He wants to learn. The look on his face as Arthur describes those things is fascinated, almost eager, but that gets quickly crowded out by the idea of being destroyed by a human prison who uses him like a battery.
"So what was his plan? He had to know that, didn't he?"
Well, at least that one's easy. "He used you to construct a machine. One with the ability to truly separate John and I. And also probably the both of you, as well." He's not looking at Yellow, mostly because he's scrounging for his tea. "He wanted to join the King back together, and be rewarded for it."
"...He wanted to kill John?" And Yellow himself, he realizes. Kill them both and bring back the thing they were, a thing that had no problem smashing peoples' heads in or torturing Arthur or ripping John away from him in the first place.
"Why did he think the King would reward him?" It seems so incredibly stupid to assume that.
"Because for as intelligent as he thinks he is," he comments with venomous flatness, "he still worships beings like that. He had convinced himself that the King would care about his loyalty and assistance, and that he'd be seen as a hero for helping put him back together."
"The King would destroy him for having used his own weakness like that," Yellow says, voice low but absolute. He doesn't want to think about how he can say that and just... know he's right.
He goes quiet as he watches Arthur deal with his tea.
"It's... a long story. But the crux of it is that- John and I brought someone with us, to help us. A man that the King in Yellow had tortured for years, to get information out of that he didn't have. You..."
He pauses, and sighs briefly. "The Yellow there got inside his mind, and- made him throw himself off a high floor, that would have killed him when he landed. John and I managed to save him, but Larson shot him. I nearly killed Larson for it, but then Kayne showed up, and he..."
He still hates the memory of it, of the wet shatter of glass. "Ripped Larson's eyes out, and threw him and Yellow into the Dreamlands. I haven't seen any of them since."
That must be what John meant when he said Yellow tried to kill his friend. Yellow gets that far in connecting the dots, then Arthur gets to eyeball ripping. His thoughts pile up around the roadblock of thrown into the Dreamlands.
Only half paying attention to his own words: "He took from Larson what you gave up. When you proved you cared more about John than your sight. What Larson wasn't willing to part with, even temporarily, even if it meant I wouldn't rot him from the inside out."
Something about the kettle coming slowly to a head as Yellow sounds out his own thoughts feels oddly poetic, as Arthur removes it from the heat before it becomes a truly awful screech.
"John took my eyes, to begin with," he says. "But along our travels, he earned the right to... to keep them, I suppose. We didn't want to be separated. I relied on him as much as he relied on me." He can't dare say 'perhaps more so' out loud, but it felt like it some days.
"Larson... has never sacrificed anything of himself. He'd never be so... vulnerable. He'd never let himself get hurt in pursuit of his power, not in a way where he loses out for it."
"No," Yellow says quietly. "Neither would the King."
That's an odd parallel, one that makes him uncomfortable, but he can't help thinking it's right. The same way he thinks the King would have killed Larson or worse as a reward for putting him back together.
"...Cr... Crichton wants me to help him with some pages from a book, one that's about N-- Carmichael. Or from him. I'm not sure. Uh, Crichton is a- a friend."
He gives a soft smile, as he offers Yellow one of the cups of tea. "I've met Crichton. He's a good man. And a good friend."
He wonders if he's a better one than Arthur deserves, but the way he described how he and that other Arthur hurt each other before, he can't be blind to the fact. Perhaps he simply doesn't care. It's an odd feeling.
"He told me that you two wanted to read the Necronomicon pages," he adds, and he leans against the counter with his cup in both hands. "I told him it was dangerous, that neither of you fully understand what you might be reading. John tried reading it once, and it... hurt me, to hear those words. Something about them isn't meant for mortal minds to know. But I don't know if you would be unaffected, either."
He starts to take the tea, realizes he's still entirely tentacled, and melts smoothly from one comfortable shape into the other. Shadows shed off his human form like smoke.
Yellow watches Arthur with uncertainty as he accepts the cup. "But- How do we fix anything if we don't use what we find?"
"That's not what I'm saying," he corrects gently. "But it's- it's important. To know exactly what you're getting yourself into, o-or at least to learn as much as you can before you commit to something dangerous. It's a way of protecting yourself. If you know what to expect when you get into something, then you know how to react - whether you need to run, or hide, or fight, because doing the wrong one might get you killed."
"I'd investigate." Which feels self-evident, but Yellow... Arthur never taught him that, not the way he did John, and so he's happy to spell out for him, so he can make that choice for himself. "I'd... try and find how if there's any information about the Necronomicon other people know. Who might be looking for it, if they hear that the pages been stolen or used, what sort of things have happened to other people that might have read it."
That's an overwhelming number of factors to consider, and he gets the impression that Arthur could keep going. The impression Arthur might get from him is one of a student presented with a pop quiz in a class he's been sleeping through.
Arthur gives him an apologetic smile. "You don't. It's a matter of- of deciding whether you think you do know enough, or going ahead despite it. Regardless, you're going to have to accept that there are risks involved whichever way you do it. Knowing more might let other people work out what you're doing, but knowing less could put you in danger."
He's going slowly red as they talk, a creeping blush that Yellow himself is doing his utmost best to ignore.
"Wh-" He wilts a little after the half-syllable and looks down at his tea again, sipping it even though it's probably still scalding. It is definitely better than making eye contact with his next question. "What if Crichton gets tired of waiting and asks someone else?"
It's clear enough that Yellow has a someone else in mind.
That stops Arthur short, and he blinks in surprise.
"Well- why would he?" he asks, plain in his confusion. "He's already said he's doing it with you. He doesn't strike me as a man who goes back on his word."
He stares, nonplussed. That question hadn't even occurred to him. He hadn't factored Crichton into it at all, just his own failure to quickly do what someone wanted him to do.
"That- that's true, but, I meant- I meant what if... what if he needs it, fast? Faster than investigation allows?"
"Then you either force them to slow down and let you think, or you barrel on recklessly regardless," he says with a slight shrug. "Neither answer is wrong, and- look, Yellow, really."
He gives a dry little smile. "All of the things I did when we were, er. T-together. I was impossibly reckless, both for my normal attitude and for- practically any person who isn't a PI."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lestercraft) wrote2024-11-29 01:38 pm
no subject
no subject
"How do I keep it from happening?"
no subject
He asked. That doesn't mean Arthur knows how to answer.
"Maybe... because you're here, instead, that means you're different, now. That whenever we leave this place, you'll be able to do something else. Find a path that doesn't lead you falling directly into Larson's lap."
no subject
He wants to stay here still. Or go with Sally and Gwen. Or... almost any other possibility, if he's honest.
"What did you mean that he- he used me like a mule?"
no subject
"He used you. Made you do all the hard work of- I-I don't know, summoning servants, dragging items across realities, o-or making them. Using you to kill people, and show off the power Larson had, the control he had over you."
He finds a couple of mugs. "But it was killing you. Killing you both, actually. Every time you projected out of him it drained Larson more, and when he used your magic, like a fucking battery, you were weaker. You weren't meant to be contained by him."
no subject
"So what was his plan? He had to know that, didn't he?"
no subject
He grimaces. "To become a god in his own right."
no subject
"Why did he think the King would reward him?" It seems so incredibly stupid to assume that.
no subject
no subject
He goes quiet as he watches Arthur deal with his tea.
"...What happened to us? To me and Larson."
no subject
"It's... a long story. But the crux of it is that- John and I brought someone with us, to help us. A man that the King in Yellow had tortured for years, to get information out of that he didn't have. You..."
He pauses, and sighs briefly. "The Yellow there got inside his mind, and- made him throw himself off a high floor, that would have killed him when he landed. John and I managed to save him, but Larson shot him. I nearly killed Larson for it, but then Kayne showed up, and he..."
He still hates the memory of it, of the wet shatter of glass. "Ripped Larson's eyes out, and threw him and Yellow into the Dreamlands. I haven't seen any of them since."
no subject
Only half paying attention to his own words: "He took from Larson what you gave up. When you proved you cared more about John than your sight. What Larson wasn't willing to part with, even temporarily, even if it meant I wouldn't rot him from the inside out."
no subject
"John took my eyes, to begin with," he says. "But along our travels, he earned the right to... to keep them, I suppose. We didn't want to be separated. I relied on him as much as he relied on me." He can't dare say 'perhaps more so' out loud, but it felt like it some days.
"Larson... has never sacrificed anything of himself. He'd never be so... vulnerable. He'd never let himself get hurt in pursuit of his power, not in a way where he loses out for it."
no subject
That's an odd parallel, one that makes him uncomfortable, but he can't help thinking it's right. The same way he thinks the King would have killed Larson or worse as a reward for putting him back together.
"...Cr... Crichton wants me to help him with some pages from a book, one that's about N-- Carmichael. Or from him. I'm not sure. Uh, Crichton is a- a friend."
He sounds baffled by the last word.
no subject
He wonders if he's a better one than Arthur deserves, but the way he described how he and that other Arthur hurt each other before, he can't be blind to the fact. Perhaps he simply doesn't care. It's an odd feeling.
"He told me that you two wanted to read the Necronomicon pages," he adds, and he leans against the counter with his cup in both hands. "I told him it was dangerous, that neither of you fully understand what you might be reading. John tried reading it once, and it... hurt me, to hear those words. Something about them isn't meant for mortal minds to know. But I don't know if you would be unaffected, either."
no subject
Yellow watches Arthur with uncertainty as he accepts the cup. "But- How do we fix anything if we don't use what we find?"
no subject
no subject
Yellow makes a soft, frustrated noise. "Well-- What would you do first, then? Or instead?"
no subject
no subject
"Th-Then how do you know when you know enough?"
no subject
no subject
"Wh-" He wilts a little after the half-syllable and looks down at his tea again, sipping it even though it's probably still scalding. It is definitely better than making eye contact with his next question. "What if Crichton gets tired of waiting and asks someone else?"
It's clear enough that Yellow has a someone else in mind.
no subject
"Well- why would he?" he asks, plain in his confusion. "He's already said he's doing it with you. He doesn't strike me as a man who goes back on his word."
no subject
"That- that's true, but, I meant- I meant what if... what if he needs it, fast? Faster than investigation allows?"
That's definitely what he meant.
no subject
He gives a dry little smile. "All of the things I did when we were, er. T-together. I was impossibly reckless, both for my normal attitude and for- practically any person who isn't a PI."
(no subject)