The whole vast space felt hollow. It was empty save the large central carpet, fouled by stains, dark spots of long dead and dried rot that he was sure soaked straight through to the wood below. Vash stood unmoving in the center, back to him.
“Hey Spikey?” Wolfwood approached slowly, his heart beating faster at the scene. “You good?”
Vash glanced up, his face clearing from grim to pleasant in the blink of an eye.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. All good.”
“You believe in ghosts, Needle-Noggin?”
He paused mid-chew at the question, swallowed slowly, then broke into an evil grin.
“Of course! This place is haunted for sure,” he raised his hands into claws and leered menacingly over Wolfwood, who scowled. “It’s probably watching us from the shadows right now, just waiting for- hey!” He’d leaned just a little too close, and Wolfwood took the opportunity to shove him off his perch.
Vash stepped past him to take lead and they ducked under the floor, following the lights down beneath the foundations. Wolfwood felt it again, the foreboding that surrounded the house, that had kept away bandits and townsfolk alike for three years. His unease grew the deeper they went, an instinctive desire to run that he had to fight every step of the way. He refused to slow, matching Vash stair for stair as the pit wound its way downward. Once, he thought he saw a flash of movement from below them, peeking out before darting off again just where the curve of the stairway disappearing beneath itself.
and we must wait by @caffeinefire
Perfect Fic. Perfect characterisations. Incredible. (It's so so so well written. Genuinely had me on the edge of my seat. Gunsmoke ghost story my beloved.)
