Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide when you’re tied to a pillar. He remembers what the sound of his own screams sound like. ‘Please…stop.’ Barely able to aspirate those words. By the end of the night, he’d no longer beg for salvation. No longer beg for them to stop. They’d done nothing wrong yet how did he end up here? All because they chose not to get involved with the current affairs.
When Vikk was revived the first time around, he thought that being killed by an axe would be the worst of it. But oh, how wrong he was. The glee that laid bare upon Dream’s face. Punz acting as if it was a mere chore.
Next was the end crystal. The agony of the burns. The ringing in his ears, he didn’t care how he’d die next thanks to that continuous ringing. ‘Oh wakey wakey, Vikky.’ A wheeze laugh sounding at the groan, Vik now unable to hold himself up. Hanging by the mere force of the ropes. At least they were kind enough not to rub salt in the wounds. ‘What do you want?’ He heard his torturee in crime plead. ‘Oh we don’t want anything from you.’
‘Personally.’ Punz finishing Dream’s statement. Vik and Lazar would never get to learn of the bigger picture. How Vikk’s head ached more than any bender he’d ever been on. This time, an anvil repeatedly dropped on his head. More peels of laughter at their screams. If he’d been lucid enough, Vik would’ve made a sarcastic remark of how he wasn’t a Looney Tunes character. ‘Aww, what’s the matter Vikky?’ Noticing how his stare at the pair had turned icy. Beyond angry at this point, but alas he was helpless.
How he regretted that response by the frigid coldness that shocked his system. How he was conscious, he didn’t know. Pressure building as he tried to hold his breath. Briefly blacking out as he took his final breath.
Drowning, wishing to relish in the coolness against the phantoms burns experienced from the end crystal. Mentally adding the rope burn to the list of injuries and scars he’d have later from the forever lasting torment. Trying—and failing—not to hyperventilate.
Too tired to yell, too tired to move. Vikk would’ve jumped back. Would’ve of kicked and punched at Punz if he wasn’t restrained by the rope. His eyes being the only thing to betray his fear when they tied fireworks to them both. ‘You should be thanking us.’
‘Yea, we’re letting you both off with a bang.’ And that was the moment Vikk loss consciousness. Not aware of his final-final death until waking up stuck in limbo. Or what he thought to be limbo. All his bones ached, pins and needles constantly running through him as he walked. Holding on the nearest wall, as he didn’t trust his legs. Walking until he found Lazar waiting for him. ‘Are we—?’
In preparation for the green festival, y/n had to set up shop. A booth where anyone could have their cards read. Their deck old and aged, almost in need to buy a new one. But it was the charm needed for what would happen next. Hopefully she’d see him here and could spare his and another’s fate. If not, they’d at least have the reassurance that she tried. Alas the grief would hold over like a storm cloud when she found out what the cards truly meant—aloof as ever. The cards never were concrete in nature.
Vikk had come to the festival at the behest of Lazar’s request. Being one of the few—no, the only person he was friends with, decided it wouldn’t hurt. Despite this, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Especially at the smirk Punz flashed him when he walked past. The pearly whites reminding him more of a shark. Predator hunting prey but Vikk chalked it up to Punz being a mercenary. At least he hadn’t spot Dream, he told himself.
‘Penny for you thoughts?’ Y/n asked, having stepped outside her shop. Pausing for a smoke break. ‘Sorry, you look troubled. Hanker a reading?’ The question making him look up at the sign. ‘Oh, uh—sure, I guess why the hell not?’ Y/n having caught the man she wanted to see. Knowing Vikk to be more skeptical than others, didn’t think it would be that simple to get him to agree. But they wouldn’t dare to question it.
Sitting across from y/n, staring down at the table where the deck lied. ‘How does this work exactly?’
‘Well, it’s usually best to think of a question you want answered and let the cards guide the way.’ Nodding, Vikk thought of the one question that had been on his mind for a long time. ‘Okay, you have your question in mind? You don’t have to tell me, can share what you like.’ Splitting the deck into three piles after shuffling.
‘Pick a pile.’ Pointing to the left, y/n picked it up, removing the other two from the table. Taking the one Vikk had chosen, spreading it out across the table. ‘Now pick three cards, any three.’
The three cards Vikk ended up choosing were the Seven of Swords, Five of Cups & The World. The first two being upright, the last card reversed. Not that that was an unfortunate thing but it did in fact change the meaning. Just slightly. ‘So what does this mean?’ Y/n having wished it had been more positive but ultimately, there’s a reason as to why one can’t undo the past. And why one can’t ever know exactly what the future holds.
Y/n tried to keep her expression neutral. ‘So this first card is the seven of swords upright. Expect some deception or trickery in the upcoming future. Can’t tell you how soon though. I’d say to be wary, not too overly cautious.’
Vikk wanting to run out of the booth as he was already on edge from this blasted festival. ‘I did have some weird exchange with Punz earlier, if you can even call it an exchange.’
‘Well, it could be that. Or Punz could be involved somehow.’
‘Avoid Punz, got it.’
‘The next card, five of cups, upright. So whatever deception or trickery you face might lead to loss in the form of grief. Add in some self-pity and you’re set.’ A sense of helplessness washing over Vikk. Refusing to let it show, wanting to hear the end of this faster, not that time skips were possible. ’And the last one?’
‘The World, reversed. Whatever the answer to your qualm is, it won’t ever be complete. You might not receive any closure from it either.’ Neither of them knowing at that moment that the reason he’d never gain closure is because he’d die. He’d die at the hands of Punz and Dream, multiple times over. Fortunately or unfortunately, he’d be side by side with his beloved friend Lazar. The one who invited him to this lovely event, not that it changed anything.
‘I’m sorry Vikk, usually the cards aren’t this grim.’
‘It’s fine, never had my tarot read. Suppose I can cross that off my bucket list.’ Vikk waving to y/n as he left. Y/n having the odd inkling that she’d never see him again.
