(Decided to say "fuck it" and went in a different direction XD Spent enough time changing it over and over again -_-)
Supporting yourself on your palms, you stared down at the Deathless Sleep spell. Reading and rereading it only made you feel like this was an impossible task.
A wrench that had been thrown into your only plan. Philip could leave for Gravesfield at any time, even with whatever was plaguing him, and technically, he didn’t have to go back to civilization. He could live in seclusion if he really missed the human realm. The realization that you did not have a Plan B hit hard.
Even Plan A had a major obstacle. The spell only lasted twenty years with a trusted confidant. It would mean that even if Philip did stick around, he would be an old man once the first interval was finished, if he lived that long. It would mean that, while he would oversee your second interval, it was highly unlikely that you would see him after it, though, even then, you would have had to have someone trustworthy to be there when you woke for the third and so on, and so forth.
For some reason, that thought made your chest hurt. If the spell were as straightforward as it sounded, those years would happen in the blink of an eye from your perspective. Philip would look the way he did now one moment, but then in the next, he would be much older. Not only that, but with each interval, you were risking something happening to your confidant and never waking up. Anything could happen within those twenty years.
With a groan, you pushed yourself away from the desk and moved toward your bed. Could you really ask someone you just met to do something like this?
“Maybe it would just be easier to find the Fountain of Youth,” you grumbled, plopping yourself down on the bed and lying back. The moment you did, your eyes fell on Philip standing over you on the other side of the bed with a concerned expression, causing you to sit back up in alarm. “Ah!”
“Apologies,” he muttered quietly. “I didn’t mean to startle you…”
“Jeeze! I knew I should have put a bell on you,” you scoffed, then looked away. “What do you want?”
Philip opened his mouth, but ended up sighing and sitting on the opposite side of the bed with his back to you. After a short bout of silence, he finally spoke.
“I should have told you about the door.”
“I couldn’t go back knowing you needed someone to trust… I couldn’t leave you here alone.”
“Hmph. I’m sure you realized that lying to me is far from a good way to get me to trust you.”
“Yes, well… Would you have let me help you if you knew I had the door?”
It was your turn to fall quiet.
“... That’s what I feared.”
“You should have your own life and plans that don’t involve me.”
“Well, if I’m honest, I do. It’s just… hard to explain…”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
Philip scoffed with a chuckle.
“No, I really do have plans. Regardless of whether you were here or not… I have unfinished business, and I’m unsure of how to proceed. It would take me a lifetime to explain without it sounding ludicrous.”
“Does… it have to do with your brother?”
Philip visibly hesitated.
You watched the man out of the corner of your eye as he gazed off pensively toward the far wall.
“Hm. The legend states that you ran after your brother after he was lured away by a witch, and neither of you were seen alive again. What… happened when you first came here?”
Philip looked startled for a moment as he wrung his hands. It was clear that he was struggling to find the right words. Regret was plastered on his face as he refused to make eye contact. While it made you feel bad for asking, your curiosity was stronger. Philip inhaled hard before sitting on the edge of your bed.
“I... won’t be going back to my time, regardless of whether you are here or not,” he leaned his elbows onto his knees and clasped his hands together, shoulders slumped. You were ready to call him out for dodging the questions when you processed what he said. Your eyebrows flashed in surprise.
He didn’t answer for a short time and turned a forlorn gaze to his gloved hand.
“When you revealed that there was no record of me or my brother going back to Gravesfield in your time, I believed it to be in error. I did not wish to think that I was stuck here for the rest of my existence. I understood why my brother never returned, but I? I had not realized the extent of what she had done to me.”
“The one who took Caleb from me… That witch.”
Your interest only piqued further. This was the first time he had even called his brother by name around you. He had always referred to him as “my brother” when he spoke. You moved beside him, eyes locked on him.
“No,” Philip let out a huff, turning his head away. “... She forced me to do it.”
Despite your response, he begrudgingly regaled you with his recollection that matched the tales you had grown up with, though with more of a human take. Caleb had been acting strange and distant toward Philip and those around them before he was spirited away by a witch to another world and Philip, having already sensed something was wrong, gave chase, and the two were never seen again, though this went further. He continued where those stories seemingly left off.
He spun a story of misery, tragedy, and woe in a way that was incredibly believable with what you had been through. The Boiling Isles had been no different than your world, with bad actors looking to take advantage of people and situations. It didn't help that Luz had shared stories of witches she had encountered who tried to harm her and her willingness to forgive them astounded you. You had the sneaking suspicion that she only forgave them so easily because of what they were, given Luz's human bullies wouldn't have had the same treatment.
“It felt like an eternity trying to find him, and when I did…” he ran both hands through his hair and clutched it as he continued. When Philip found Caleb, he was already deeply entranced by the witch, and when Philip tried to rectify the situation, the elder brother attacked him to protect her. “I didn’t mean to…! I didn't want to! I would have never-! When he brandished his knife against me, it was as if he didn't see me as his brother anymore...”
The more Philip went on, the angrier he got, and he threw himself to his feet and began to pace the floor.
“And to add insult to injury, when my brother fell, that hate-able woman cursed me! Because of her, I am stuck in this perdition with a God-awful curse I cannot fathom a blasted remedy for!”
Once Philip was done, he collapsed back onto the bed with his head in his hand and a tired stare on the floor.
"I lost everything because of that witch... My brother... my home... I damn well can't show my face in Gravesfield after what I had done... Not without curing this and avenging my brother... I failed in doing the very thing I was trained for and ended up killing the only person that I ever cared about, the only person who ever cared about me."
“Philip…” you started, your mind trying and failing to find the words to say, resulting in a dreadful silence that stretched on. After a short time, he broke it.
“I don’t expect forgiveness or sympathy for what I had to do,” he sighed. “Nor do I expect you to stay knowing the truth, but I do want you to know that I had no intentions of using that door and abandoning you.”
He pushed himself to his feet, turning his head to watch you from the corner of his eye.
“I understand if you wish not to continue having me as your confidante for your spell. I have been dishonest and kept crucial information from you this entire time, but I hope you reconsider despite this. I am going to be here, regardless, for as long as it takes and I wish to help you any way I can, if not as a fellow human, but as a dear friend.”
Philip moved for the door and paused, his back to you and his hand on the wall. He scoffed softly.
“Forgive me, but I realize now that I've lied to you once more. It's apparent that my brother wasn't the only one I cared about. I find that I do care greatly for you, Dove, even if it doesn’t seem like it. Perhaps if I showed it more, we wouldn't be in this situation..."
Your brows flashed at this confession. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering how much the two of you have been through since you came back in time, but the bluntness caught you off guard. He definitely wasn’t the type to say something like that lightly from the time you’ve known him.
"Take as much time as you need to think over your decision. You know where to find me if you need me.”
His form disappeared from the doorway and you turned your attention to the floor, your mind buzzing with the story he told you.
Philip shut the door of his study with his head bowed.
“So, how’d it go?” The Collector rolled over with a grin. Philip shot him a dark look over his shoulder.
“We’ll see in a matter of time. Now sod off. I need to plan.” he growled, heading for his desk. “I need to make sure they choose properly-”
As Philip picked up his quill, his hand flexed hard with a grunt of pain and dropped it, curling back to him. He gripped it close by the wrist while panting.
“Damn it! Not now!” Philip snarled, stumbling his way toward a pile of junk that hid a stash of Palismen. Digging through it, his symptoms worsened to the point he couldn’t focus on what he was doing. His vision began to swirl and he fell to his knees, hunched over as he clutched his head where two horns started to sprout, parting his brown hair. His eyes began to glow violently as his sclera turned pitch black and his teeth clenched. “Stop! STOP! I SAID STOP!”
The final word ended in a howl and the sound of bones cracking, making the Collector’s gleeful expression fade when he realized that he may have to break the promise of not interacting with you so you would survive this now and Philip would keep his own promise of playing a new game with him later. If Philip’s previous changes were anything to go by, he hadn’t been able to learn to control himself and had been getting more violent. There was a very real chance that he would not have recognized you or be able to distinguish you from a witch.
