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Artful lets out brief, hurried pants as he sprints through blades of grass that seemed to stretch on endlessly, the countless trees around him looming tall over his figure.
The sun had already set many hours ago, or however long it's been since the magician ran into the forest, leaving only a darkness that made it difficult to see anything in front of him in its absence. Artful curses under his breath as his face is harshly slapped by branches and leaves, but his legs can't afford to stop, even with the noticeable soreness overtaking them.
He feels the cold wind of the night harshly whip against his face, causing his body to shiver and his knees to buckle to the muddy ground. He hardly reacts to the splitting pain exploding in his ankles as he trembles with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Keep moving.
Don't stop.
Survive.
Those are the only thoughts running through Artful's head as he drags himself across the grass, letting out occasional breathy, pained wheezes. Some parts of his vest and clothing were torn, his tophat was tipping off his head, the mask on the right half of his face was crooked, his body was decorated with bruises, and his knuckles were bleeding.
It was supposed to be just another day. Wallowing in his own guilt and self-pity, trying to survive through the day, staying away from the public… but today, he needed to go and scavenge for necessities that were running out. He certainly wasn't going to gamble with his life by eating random mushrooms and berries out in the wild.
Big mistake. Almost got caught by the police and had an altercation. Good job, Artful. You can never do anything right, can you?
Artful usually did a decent job at keeping himself hidden, not drawing any attention towards himself as he would enter one place just as quickly as he would leave another. But for some reason, he had let his guard down today. A mistake he didn't think he'd pay so heavily for.
Artful didn't care for the pain in his ribs, the aching throughout his face and body as hands knocked him down and tried restraining him. It hurt like hell, but never once did it cross his mind to fight back. Instead, he stumbled back onto his feet and fled like a coward instead of allowing himself to be taken in like he knew he deserved to be, his mind racing with the instinct to stay alive.
At that moment, adrenaline and fear led his steps as he ran far away from civilization and back into the unwelcoming forest, bumping into several splinters and sticks that cut at his skin or almost made him trip over his feet. And yet, he never once spared a glance behind his shoulder. Artful doesn't even know how far he travelled or how much time had passed.
The only thing he could do now was drag himself under one of the trees as he sat with the harsh feeling of the trunk against his back, alone with only his thoughts and the sound of crickets echoing throughout the forest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, his body was being overwhelmed with pain, his eyes were growing heavy, and the only thing he could think about was how he hadn't felt so much pressure to run, to survive in such a long time.
It brought him back to that day, the burning, humiliating feeling when being boo'ed off the stage, the blinding rage he felt, and before he knew it, he was alone in the forest, trying to come to terms with what he had just done as his bloody, gloved hand that gripped his wand shook with pure adrenaline.
Artful's frown deepens, his stomach churning at the memory as he lifts a hand to hold his head where he could feel a migraine forming. Some part of him wished the thoughts, the memories, and the guilt could all just go away, and another part of himself reminds him that he doesn't deserve the luxury of wishing that.
Not after taking so many lives. Not after taking the life of his innocent fan.
…This is my life now, he thinks. It's not any sort of dawning realization, but after today's events, it's really starting to settle into his head.
Artful hears the sounds of rustling nearby, but he doesn't have any energy left in him to react. Well, looks like it was his life now. He doesn't imagine it'll be any better from prison once he's finally sentenced to justice for his act of mass homicide.
His entire body freezes as he braces for an upcoming ambush, giving in to the fate he thought was coming for him. He was beaten, exhausted, and dirty. There was definitely no way he could save himself this time. However, concern starts flooding his head the moment he sees familiar green eyes with dilated pupils overtake his vision.
Artful pauses, his shoulders tensing more at the sight. He releases a shaky breath, his voice coming out small.
"…Pursuer?"
The magician instinctively backs away in surprise, being stopped in his tracks by the tree behind him. He stares back for a moment in pure bewilderment, Pursuer slowly blinking at him with that usual blank expression and slight grin on its face, showing off teeth and canines as green as its eyes.
Its? His? Does whatever this thing is even have a gender? Well, that's not really where his priorities lie right now.
Artful's breath catches in his throat, nervous sweat dripping down his face as he remains incredibly still. The only thing he can bring himself to do is stare at Pursuer's much taller figure looming over him, its pitch-black body blending into the darkness, with its glaring, pale white deformed head being the most visible part of its body. If Artful were one of its victims, he wouldn't even be able to see it coming unless he really tried to spot it or until it was too late.
He swallows hard.
He's still not entirely sure what… Pursuer's deal is, but he doesn't have the desire to know, either. A small part of him is intrigued by Pursuer, wanting to get closer, but another part of him is afraid and unsure. He's seen how brutal it gets when it's particularly agitated.
The only thing separating Artful from an average civilian was his knowledge of casting magic, after all. He's still human.
And well, to whatever Pursuer was, the only thing separating the two was Artful's heavy usage of makeup. He discovered as much on their first meeting when Pursuer came close, sniffed him, and immediately retched and ran away. Again, that's not where his priorities lie right now.
Pursuer was just... strange. Artful neither liked nor hated it. Sometimes they ran into each other, sometimes they didn't. They had even exchanged a few friendly interactions before, making it clear to Artful that it wasn't just some mindless killing machine.
But right now, Artful was vulnerable. Some of his makeup was smudged, his injuries bled and stung, and he was far too tired to do anything if Pursuer were to attack right now.
…Ah.
Months of running away like a spineless coward, just for his death to come so suddenly like this, while he was vulnerable and wounded. Truly befitting for someone as pathetic as him. He wasn't exactly fond of the idea of being graced with death after all he's done, but it's not like he can do anything to fight it.
"P-Pursuer..." Artful hisses out, his voice low as he forces a strained smile on his face, his hand clutching his bleeding side. "...I hadn't expected to see you out here so suddenly."
Pursuer tilts its head to the side as if to inspect him. Slowly, it nods in response, as if agreeing with him. Artful grows nervous under Pursuer's intense staring, wondering what was even going through its head.
He sighs, continuing to speak with an air of defeat. This was probably the calmest he had spoken with Pursuer, which felt odd. But he had already given up and accepted his fate as… fresh meat, he supposes.
"Well, my friend." Artful starts, his eyes trailing to the side as he holds out his arms. "Go ahead and have your feast, I guess. Just… make it quick."
Pursuer seems to tense and lean away in response, its grin dropping a bit as it stares with a raised brow.
That's a new reaction.
Artful isn't sure if he should feel scared.
After a moment of awkward silence, Pursuer leans back in.
Then, it sniffs his outstretched arm.
Artful stares stiffly.
He can only watch, unsure of what he should make of the action.
After a moment of getting a good smell of Artful, Pursuer plops down and sits right in front of him.
The magician can only stare, slowly bringing his arms back down to his sides in confusion. He quirks up a brow, his mouth forming into a thin line.
Artful wasn't really prepared to be actually eaten alive, but it was at least something he was expecting. He wasn't prepared for nor was he expecting... whatever this is.
What was it even doing? Inspecting him? Toying with him before it actually gets its fill?
The longer Pursuer kept up their staring match, the more he started to think it was the latter, even with how uncharacteristic it was for Pursuer's quick, brutal killing style once it had its victim trapped. It made him grow a lot more uncomfortable than before.
Artful huffs, tilting his head to the side.
"...You're… a real confusing one, you know."
Pursuer stares blankly. As it always does.
The magician sighs, hissing through his teeth when a flare of pain erupts from his side. The monster across from him remains seated, its staring growing more intense.
Pursuer was always scarily quiet—hell, Artful doesn't think he remembers Pursuer ever uttering a word to him since their first meeting—but its silence now made the air between them more tense than before, as if Pursuer was watching every small move he made. Artful had only just realized how still the forest had become since Pursuer's arrival, the crickets and birds in the distance going quiet.
It made him feel small and helpless. He tapped his finger against the aching side that he was holding out of nervous habit, his lips slightly trembling.
"Is there... something you want?" Artful finally gained the courage to ask, the words coming out a little quieter than he intended.
Pursuer's face doesn't falter, not even a twitch. However, its grin drops, its mouth forming into a thin line.
Finally, it does something to break their intense staring match.
It moves towards Artful.
His stomach drops, and for a moment, he thinks that this is it.
At first, he's expecting his face to be clawed off or to be tackled to the ground before his insides are splattered across the grass. But the thought immediately vanishes from his head when he notices Pursuer's slow movements as it carefully crawls onto his lap.
"Uh-" Artful stammers out, sitting up straight as he simply watches, frozen in shock.
Pursuer lies on him and presses its full weight against him, making him bite the inside of his cheek at the slight pain the pressure causes. Paying no mind to the magician, Pursuer rests its cheek on his shoulder as it faces him, an oddly affectionate gesture coming from it of all… people.
...He has to be having some sort of nightmare, right? Or dream?
"H-Hey, what are you-"
"Be… still."
Artful's interrupted by the raspy, yet high-pitched voice that comes from Pursuer's mouth, scratchy in a way as if their vocal cords hadn't been used at all before until now. He freezes up at the sudden command, not having any time to process it when he starts feeling vibrations against him, a low rumbling sound seemingly emitting from what was on his lap. It... kind of sounds like purring.
…Is that actually coming from Pursuer? And was that his voice??
Whatever words Artful had to say next immediately caught in his throat, stunning him to silence as he stared, bewildered and frozen like a deer in headlights while his hands hung in the air like he didn't know where to put them. Pursuer, on the other hand, was unfazed, as if its behavior was a normal, everyday thing. It even seemed like it was starting to relax.
"Uh- Ah- Wha?-"
The only things that come out of Artful's mouth are stuttering and stammering. He's not even sure where to begin or what to feel.
Terrified? Amused? He can hardly process what just happened. So many things just happened.
"...Um. Okay. Mon Dieu, dans quoi me suis-je embarqué…" Artful mumbles the only coherent words he's able to muster, dragging his hand across his face. Despite his intense confusion, the more he stares, the more he finds the sight of Pursuer being cuddled up to him and purring like a cat... oddly endearing. It was enough to make him forget that the creature on his lap could casually rip him to shreds in seconds if they really wanted to. Pursuer seems to sense his gawking, narrowing their eyes and snarling under their breath in response.
Artful raises his hands in surrender, sweating bullets as his cheeks flushed a bright pink in embarrassment. Finally, he finds his voice again. "D-Don't worry, dear. I'm not getting any ideas. So… where exactly… is this coming from?..."
Pursuer drops their glare, staring quietly before a scowl forms on their face, their green fang peeking from the corner of their mouth. They move slightly, their chin now resting on Artful's shoulder with their face out of view, as if they were purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Meanwhile, their purring resumes and seems to grow in volume.
Artful quirks up a brow in confusion, a hint of amusement evident in his tone as he speaks. "You know, it's hard to ignore me when you're cuddled up to me, my dear Pursuer."
He isn't sure where he gained the confidence to be teasing something as dangerous as the… person-monster-thing on him right now, but the only response he gets is the feeling of a grumble on his shoulder, Pursuer clearly insisting on staying in their position. The trapped magician huffs in amusement.
"Very well."
Artful doesn't even feel weirded out anymore, nor nervous. The purring is weirdly making his head feel fuzzier and calmer, the discomfort and pain in his body subtly fading away like a faint breeze.
It feels nice, as weird as it is to admit. He's almost forgotten about the reason why he even landed up here in the first place.
Hm.
He still has no clue what Pursuer's deal is. Even less of an idea now that they're doing this.
But maybe they're not all that bad if they're trying to help him. Or at least that's what it looks like to him. Either way, he finds this whole bizarre situation somewhat cute. Pursuer's like a weird pet cat, he notes. A weird pet cat that can talk, apparently.
Artful lets out the first relaxed breath he's had today, and without thinking, he raises a hand to pet the back of Pursuer's head. "I… appreciate you helping me, truly-"
The moment his hand makes contact, Pursuer snaps their head towards his hand, chomping their sharp teeth down on it with no hesitation.
"OW!-" Artful yelps, immediately taking his hand back and holding it as he frowns.
Pursuer sends him a brief glare before settling back into their previous position, their purring now growing quieter. Their rough body feels more tense against him, a clear sign of irritation, and clearly, a sign of not wanting to be touched either. Artful grimaces slightly when he feels Pursuer chewing on his shoulder, making annoyed noises and grumbling as they do so. He's not looking forward to cleaning that wet patch of drool later.
The magician huffs, rubbing his now aching hand. He's fortunate that they didn't put much of their jaw power into the bite.
"…Okay, touching is off limits! Understood, understood."