🕯️๋࣭ ⭑ Murder Most Timeless Teaser 👻
Happy Halloween!!! Originally I wanted to post the actual third chapter of my fic MMT today, but, I made a promise to myself that I wasn't gonna continue posting until I could guarantee a regular update schedule, and, unfortunately, the first draft of the fic as a whole is still unfinished. So instead, I bestow upon you, a scene from Chapter 5 (gasp) that I hope you'll all enjoy <3
(Obviously, if you want to go in blind with no spoilers, skip this one, also this is a first draft, writing quality will improve etc. etc.)
✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺₊˚(㇏(•̀ᢍ•́)ノ)₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆☪︎ ₊˚.✩
Scar doesn't need sleep per se. He is dead, well, undead. Dead enough to not need sleep anyway. Sleep is sorta one of those living and breathing people things, it gives all the squishy bits and pesky brain processes a bit of well-deserved rest and re-charges them for the day.
Scar's a wandering dead thing possessing a mannequin, there isn't much by way of physiological things happening anywhere inside him. Let alone physiological things that need the deft hand of sleep to orient their functioning.
But he does like sleep. It's nice! It's cozy, it's warm… He might not have a physical brain that needs it, but even the wandering long-dead imprint of a mind longs for those long-established habits.
And interrupted sleep? Now, that's a bitch, dead or alive.
Something Grian, who Scar holds in a regard with all the love in his heart, had better learn to appreciate.
Grian's polite enough to not do anything too drastic at least. He's not awoken with a splash of water or yelling or void forbid, slapping him or something. Though Scar has to wonder if the lack of yelling is just due to not wanting to wake up anyone else, rather than being at all for Scar's benefit.
No, instead, Scar is happily sailing across the sea of dreams, mind adrift in an ocean of murky nothingness, submerged in a sea-salt of memories and attachments — before the hourglass is turned on its head, jostled out of position to flip upside down and drain out all the water, and him with it into wakefulness. He's aware of his body being jostled and a low insistent muttering above him before he opens his eyes. He groans, hoping the form above will understand his reticence and respond with grace and kindness, but instead the muttering merely pitches up in tone, a triumphant edge colouring it. He blinks his eyes awake. And there he is, faceful of Grian, legs perched either side of his chest, squatting over him to look him directly in the eyes, a scant few inches all that's left between their faces. As his eyes open, Grian's face splits into a manic grin, "Scar, this is the perfect opportunity. Come on, get up."
Now, there are very many situations where awakening to the view of Grian's face is very much appreciated, the goal even. But usually when Scar fantasises about this sort of thing, there's a lot more… softness to it, a lot more ability to take it all in, linger blissfully in the details, subsist in the quiet dripping sanctity of an early morning with a partner. And less irritated early bird trying to co-opt your assistance in snagging some unfathomable worm. Blearily, Scar pushes himself up, back against the headboard and leans up on his elbows, peering around Grian to look at one of the clocks behind him. Grian doesn't move from his position atop him, though he does lean back now that Scar is showing signs of life, so Scar's got a lapful of Grian now, which is... Again, things Scar really does appreciate in nearly any other context, he's just concerned about the whole vibes of this one.
His bleary glance at a clock shows him an almost perfect 90 degree angle. Three in the morning. Three in the night, most pertinently. And Scar strongly suspects Grian isn't here to make out.
"Grian, Birdie, what could possibly be the perfect opportunity so early in the morning?" He settles his arms on Grian's lower back, a low-hopes last-ditch attempt that maybe Grian can be convinced by the many benefits of a good, nice cuddle, instead of…
"The case, of course. No one's gonna be awake right now, it's the perfect opportunity to get digging."
Grian pulls off of him, clambering out of the bed, still clamouring on throughout, "It really took forever for everyone to go to bed for the night, I swear I thought Martyn and Ren were never gonna stop drinking." He rolls his eyes, as if that wasn't an excessively normal activity to be partaking in at a dinner party, "But I'm pre-tty sure, it really is just us now. Well me, and now you. But we should have free reign of the house, can go have a look in every little cranny without any prying eyes." He stands proudly, hands on his hips in-front of the door way.
Scar's arms twitch where they stay hovering in form around where Grian was. He has half a mind to just go back to sleep. Close the door on Grian with a ghost hand and let him parade around doing whatever nighttime shenanigans he wants to get up to on his own time.
"…Scar? You coming?" Grian asks, when he's still not moved after a moment or so. And it's — softer, a hint of uncertainty that he'll never concretely express, yet is clear all the same. And for all the frustration built up over the course of the day, there's very few situations where Scar can actually imagine himself saying no to Grian. So with a grumble, he relents himself into action, pulling off the covers.
"Ohhhh, Mister, this had better blow this whole case wide open. You better solve every granular pebble of a clue of this thing to justify this." He huffs, gathering up his scattered clothes, if he's really doing this, he's not doing it parading around in his jimjams.
And the smile is back in it's rightful place on Grian's face, proud, confident, unflinching like nothing could ever take him down. He doesn't smile like that much recently.
Scar's not sure if encouraging all this is really that great of an idea. But it's all he's got.
✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺₊˚(㇏(•̀ᢍ•́)ノ)₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆☪︎ ₊˚.✩
Hope you all enjoyed and have an excellent halloween!!!
