My piece for the “Familiar Keepsakes” zine organized by @ghosthunthq !!!!
This zine turned out SO GOOD and it would be great if you could check it out! My piece is featured along with some wonderful (and adorable) written pieces and other talented artists, and it was such a pleasure to be involved!
Though there have been lots of ups and downs, Deadmen Tell No Tales is finally complete just in time for the Davis Twins Birthday celebration -- as promised!
Summary; Just when Noll thought it was over, he finds himself face-to-face with the one person he thought he'd never find. The worst part is, she thinks he's the ghost of the boy she killed, out for revenge. She's hell bent on taking her mistake with her to the grave, but will he be able to escape or is he about to learn what it means to be dead? Our story begins and ends with Oliver Davis.
Five chapters.
Five stages of death.
Read it here; ff.net / Ao3
Snippet below the line~
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Do not go gentle into that good night,
-Dylan Thomas
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CHAPTER 1: Denial
Part I
Oliver Davis.
It was weird how his own name sounded so foreign to his ears; how the more time he spent as Kazuya Shibuya, the more he forgot what it had been like before. There was a part of him took comfort in this new identity. This new life.
He hated that part.
"Oliver Davis-hakase." Takigawa-san said again, as if Noll's thoughts had an echo.
There was a pause in which six pairs of eyes focused on Noll, all in various states of incredulity. Noll looked away from them all, glaring down at the only person in the room who wasn't watching him as if he'd grown another head. Hara-san's slate grey eyes were turned resolutely to the floor at his feet; the only one of the Irregular's who had known who he was. Why he was here.
"Naru…" Mai fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. He couldn't help meeting her wide, brown eyes. "Is that true?"
Anger shook his fists. If he hadn't already hidden them in a tight fashion across his chest, they would have ruined his carefully constructed mask. He took a breath. Somehow, they had effortlessly unraveled all his secrets right under his nose. So effortlessly, in fact, that if he hadn't already been so furious at his own carelessness, the stormy teen might have been impressed.
"Well?"
"I don't feel the need to answer you," he said, hoping no one else noticed the slight tremble in his voice. Disgusted with his own foolhardiness, he turned toward the door. "Are the 15 minutes over?"
His words must have shocked them into stillness because no one moved to stop him. He escaped into the stuffy heat of the summer day, ignoring the worrying rattle of the cabin door as it slammed shut behind him. Finally free from prying eyes, he let his guard slip. His fingernails were beginning to bite into his palms, threatening injury. He forced him open.
Who were they to corner him into such a position? he asked himself. Who did they think they were to take all his secrets and throw them back in his face?
Friends, his mind supplied. Noll rolled his eyes skyward, pushing the thought away with a growl.
He strode further from the cabin, hands curling to fists in barely contained anger, not caring that his Chinese chaperone was not right behind him. In fact, he didn't think he could stomach it if it did. These past two years, Lin had barely allowed him a mere second to himself — it was almost a relief to be alone.
No Lin hovering over his shoulder; a constant reminder of how fragile he was. How useless. With a sudden pang, Noll set off at a brisk pace. He just needed to put as much distance as he could between them as he could. He needed space to think.
He found himself back at the door of his cabin in a few short minutes. He fumbled in his pocket for the key.
The campground was obviously outdated; the floorboards creaked, the paint was bleached from years under the blazing sun, and the locks stuck. Fighting with the old lock, it took two tried before the key slid in and another three before it would turn. Just when he was starting to consider kicking the damn thing open as a completely viable option, the lock finally clicked and the door gave way.
The cool air of the cabin's surprisingly functional A/C greeted him. It blew back his bangs and chilled the sweat gathering on his nape.
He pocketed the key again, ignoring the small western couch pushed flush against the back wall, and collapsed onto the tatami with a grunt. The second he hit the floor, exhaustion seemed to settle into every muscle. With a sigh, he crossed his arms behind his head, allowing his unfocused eyes to fall shut but not expecting to sleep.
The act of sleeping had proven to be more and more difficult over the past two years. He'd spent more nights staring blankly up at the ceiling then he could remember. And even when he'd managed to fall asleep, his dreams were plagued by screeching tires, shattering glass, and green, murky water.
