☯ ((Discovery of secret Della secrets in The Money Bin))
Send me '☯ + a scene from my characters canon' and I will drabble it from my character's POV | Accepting ONLY FOR SCENES UP TO Day of the Only Child, as I haven’t moved past that one yet.
There they were. The last book had been put in place; and a line of brilliant blue had illuminated, leading from it, across the floor, and over to a hidden panel in the wall. As one, Webby and Dewey stepped towards it... and, she didn’t know about him, but the duckling girl could feel her heart pounding in her chest. For so long, she’d had nothing about Della Duck to go on at all, other than the mysterious disappearance of anyone who asked after her... and now...
Finally, the secret was on the verge of being revealed. Stepping to one side, she watched with wide eyes and bated breath as Dewey forced himself to exhale.
Kind of nice to know she wasn’t the only one just a little bit nervous about this too.
“Okay, here goes noth-- ow!”
Dewey had placed his hand on the pad - and instantly withdrawn it with a yelp. For half a moment, Webby caught sight of a needle poking out of the index finger indent, before her concerned gaze quickly shifted back to Dewey, who was nursing his pricked hand.
“What is up with this stupid library?!”
He... really didn’t like this place, huh?
“McDuck family DNA, recognised.”
The automated voice chimed in before Webby had a chance to speak. The two ducklings could only turn and gape as the wall slid open, bathing them in blue light, and revealing...
For the longest moment, there were simply no words. Webby was the first to step forward, her eyes becoming round as pennies as they scanned across the sights laid out before her. It was like a literal museum, everything laid out neatly and labelled... a headless statue; a model ship; Grecian-style helmets... so much that she’d never seen in person before, and it had been hidden away here all this time?
And all of it, presided over by the larger-than-life portrait of Della Duck...
The breath left Webby in that single word as she gazed around... though in the presence of so many unseen wonders, she could hardly be content to stay still. Pulling out her camera, the little girl scampered first over to the ship, snapping a picture for later - photographic evidence, a must-have! - then to the other corners of the room, camera snapping away as she went. Passing Dewey, Webby heard him ponder why this was hidden away; but, having no answer for him, the girl prepared to keep on taking photos for her records--
Until something caught the corner of her eye. A scruffy, hand-written note, preserved behind a glass frame a bit of a way above their heads. It seemed so out of place amongst the treasures and wonders of this room that Webby couldn’t help but frown.
It was Dewey who read it aloud.
“Scrooge, I’ve taken the Spear of Selene. I’m sorry. Della.”
He turned away the moment he’d finished reading, leaving Webby’s eyes to slowly track him as he stepped away, voicing aloud the questions that were on her mind too: what did Della take, and why was she sorry? Webby watched the boy with some concern; but to her, there was one potential explanation that leapt to the forefront of her mind... that explained why Scrooge never spoke of Della, why he made everyone who asked about her disappear...
Placing the camera away, she took a tentative step towards Dewey, clasping her hands nervously. It seemed so wrong to ask... yet it made so much make sense...
“Did she... betray your Uncle Scrooge?”
She saw the frown cross Dewey’s face, saw him turn and look away; and Webby knew that, for once, this wasn’t her place to speak, or to make suggestions. It was internal family affairs, and she... wasn’t family. The best she could do was try to piece together the evidence she had - and support Dewey in whatever he chose to do with this.
Dewey, it seemed, had already reached his decision.
“We can’t tell anyone about this until we find out what it means.”
And find out, Webby was certain, they would. For her, perhaps, it was just another juicy McDuck mystery... but for Dewey, this was personal. And he looked so determined, so grown-up as he made that choice, that it didn’t even cross Webby’s mind to disagree, or to think that he maybe didn’t know the best course of action.