flashlightfxghter ;; Little Nuisance
❝ Mmhm. ❞ There’s a small nod as the boy stands there, watching him with a straight face, ❝ Even if it was jus’ five years, I understand. I understand far too many things. ❞ And he really did, he understood his own situation, he understood the fire, everything came in time ( even if he didn’t really want to come to the realisations ), the truth was harsh, and Atlas knew this– he knew this truth would be harsher, should his gut feeling be right ( and he won’t stop at nothing to know– they both knew this well ), though at the mere mention of ‘accident’, his expression twisted to something nasty, to something knowing, ❝ Oh, we both know that wasn’t an accident. ❞ Came out of his mouth, quiet, decisive– Atlas knew. Atlas always knew, deep down. He wasn’t stupid, that much is obvious.
To him, to that five year old, it had been nothing more than an unfortunate accident– it was the same to the public eye, but his family knew better, they were a big part of bringing it all down to zero ( his mother, a teenager fighting for her life in that very same horror attraction whilst that bastard of a grandfather tried to end her– his father, a man bound by another reality to put the pieces in place, to help form the basis of a Happiest Day– and him, subjected to nightmares, brought to the brink whilst the man’s son laughed at him, until he forced a change of heart, the truth ), Atlas mused to himself for a moment that if his entire family had been caught up in this, what about Alula? He couldn’t let his baby sister be pulled into this– she was only four years old!
…Nova and Allen Fisher were people who didn’t tell Atlas about the past all that much– they thought it was better like that, more safer for him and Alula– and yet, Atlas knew things he shouldn’t, he had a confidant, someone to learn from ( and 'himself’, one would say ), Atlas was only ever told about the Fright when he had turned nine– a good age, his parents decided, from there, he knew more and more, delving deep into the information his parents collected– and what Joshua knew from the depths of his mind, the boy keeps himself silent, still watching the other warily ( he can hear him– he can hear Joshua seething and cursing the old man and he didn’t like it ), there’s a twitch of the boy’s hand as he watched, frowning still as he stands his ground– he won’t back down now, he can’t.
It indeed hit a sore spot, a very sensitive one, after all– it was something he held close to his heart, something she made up for him specifically ( he still had the plush, and he still had the bracelet, worn on his wrist with pride ), so when she disappeared after promising she’ll be gone for a little while ( six years, in reality ), it hurt, cut him deeper than any would inflicted– that was his aunt. Someone who would watch him and play with him when his parents had to be called away and do things to make sure this finale was reached ( but Atlas confirmed to himself that it was not– the man was back in more ways than one ), he kind of wondered what happened in that fire sometimes… it was a selfish wish– but he wished it never got to happen to begin with, at least, not to some people– Afton could rot in hell for all he cared, blood relation or not.
He never realised it– he still didn’t know, and maybe it was for the best that he didn’t, Desiree was an innocent person to him, someone who didn’t deserve to be caught up in this, not like how he and many others had ( his heart breaks slightly because he knows at least one of his friends had to suffer for his sheer stupidity ), it was why Atlas grew up, one could say– why he chose to try and protect the people he cared about ( like his grandmother, this one was, so much like Norah… ), he was clueless, unaware despite all of the signs that perhaps things were not as they seem ( now that he thought about it, the way she looked at the items, the necklace, too, and… their chat, yesterday.. ), to him, it was just a trick his mind was playing, but now that he was thinking about it, nothing was adding up there, either…
❝ I’m not stupid. Stop treating me like I am. ❞ Came his quiet demand, ❝ This isn’t adding up, and you know how stubborn I am. I’m not going to give up until I at least have an idea about what’s truly going on. ❞ He had to get at least a clue, blue ( purple? ) eyes bore into him as he folded his arms, looking quite unimpressed, ❝ I know where that necklace came from, I know what he did with it. ❞ It was a dangerous murmur, it was a dangerous game he was playing here, ❝ Ripped off of a body and shoved into a machine, then years passed… it all burned away, in a place that used deaths to benefit themselves– mama helped them, most of them, then the pizzeria– they planned to burn it all down again, to get rid of everything– I’m not stupid, so please. Stop treating us like we are. ❞ He then spat out, shoulders hunching, an all too familiar look on his face.
There were two. Two listening– Atlas…
“You really think it wasn’t an accident?” He frowned. Damn, Nova must have told him. Oh, well. No skin off of his own back; after all, he wasn’t the one who wanted it to happen, Henry was, and he killed himself in the process. It was unfortunate.
He still wanted to mess with him a little.
He watched Atlas’s hand twitch, and fought back the slightest of smiles. Oh, he knew that the boy was beginning to boil over, anger and frustrations slowly pushing him back toward the edge.
“I didn’t think you knew,” Came his quiet reply, feigning sorrow-and he was good at it, glancing off and frowning. He slouched a bit, losing his former, confident posture, and he stared at Atlas. “I knew that grandpa was up to something,” he admits, shaking his head. “I knew how he cursed those restaurants, despite them being his own creation. They killed his kids, after all-I had no idea why he’d start up one again...I had no clue what he was up to.”
And then he just kept staring, eyes widening a bit. Oh, he knew about that too, did he?
“How do you know about that? Who told you?” He mumbled. “How do you know that he put it in the Puppet? I know Henry told me, but...he wouldn’t have told you, would he…?” His frown deepened, no, not Henry-the old fool would have wanted to preserve this boy’s innocence, like he couldn’t with his own children. He would have wanted to keep him safe, therefore that bracelet, and the new Puppet-this one, better in the modern era, could keep Atlas safe; like the Marionette couldn’t with Marianne, back in 1978.
“How do you think the necklace survived, then?” He mutters, furrowing his brow in a show of confusion.
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