Chapter Text
The wild is broad. About everything is vegetation and secretive. Hunted was born here, meant to adhere to the flock, the coup. The vessels are exhibited to rest, all in Her multi-handed guard of entropy. So he's embraced in solitude, dewy and congested solitude.
And it gets boring very quickly. There's nothing to chase, only living being him and co. Hibernation is a tempting pastime, the closest experience of peaceful death. But with the bleak Construct in a state of season-less eternity, his habitat is unsuitable. He's witnessed it all, blase to consumption, scars, wounds, blood.
Trapped in an expansive cage born the nemesis of mortality, he can't sit for death. The Decider is out somewhere, can live a chaotic life in a way He can cherish what He abused --- took for granted. Does time work differently where they've gone? Are the skies always scratchy and grey? Too many questions that end with more questions.
Needless to say, Hunted is bored. His namesake is meaningless without a hunter. Where she's gone is unbeknownst to his comprehension. A thing within hopes she's okay despite the mortal wounds they've both wreaked sin for; slumbering where she can pursue as many birds as she wants and subsist a full stomach. He'll lag around somewhere, the shadows his family.
"What are you doing here?"
Deadpan dark stares more through him than at him.
"I'm bored. Is that a crime?"
"I am too."
He distanced himself from the Voices, perfectly content with his central domain. Maybe fellow interaction is the missing piece.
"You won't find anything fun here," he claimed, serious as his blank stare that stands a bit too wide. "I've tried."
"Maybe not hard enough."
"You doubt me for why?"
Cold's gaze washes around the towering jungle.
"Why do you doubt yourself?"
There's no parrying Cold's build. They're all incarnations of design, assigned with destiny. Cold's calling? Nobody knows. Hunted isn't sure of himself, either, whether he is a plaything for power, forever running from fear for survival, or there's no other option.
"I'm serious, there's nothing of interest here. She's at rest with Her. I've been left with trying to find entertainment for a while."
"It's already better than what the others occupy themselves with."
"Which?"
Cold leans back on bark, loose arms folded.
"Paying debts to their princess, leaving acts of love, staring into the moonlight and each other," pauses for a slow blink. "And the princesses who have to return to Her, they resort to each other for supplements."
"Infidelity?"
"I don't think anyone cares."
"What about your princess?"
Cold reels his eyes to him, the rest of him stiff.
"Do you mean the little ghost? What exactly makes her mine, or me hers?"
Hunted's knees will him to sit atop them.
"She and us have paths. They connect accordingly."
"And who says we must take that path?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't say that."
"You thought it. That's all it takes."
Silence wedged in their conversation, ruffled green browned by nonsensical age hissing in vicinity.
"When you said they resort to each other... for supplements, what are you here to do?"
Cold doesn't fish him back this time, determined on one point in the faraway skyline.
"Escape the monotonous existence. Or, unless you have anything better in mind. I'm listening."
"Count yourself disappointed."
"Really, now?"
Hunted can't escape his imagination. He remembers the insane princess, the one with blades for bones, and her complimentary sore loser. When she must depart --- temporarily --- does he go to another of what Hunted is? Does he hold hands with the broken one, exchange secrets with the chaotic one, possibly even steal a kiss from the skeptical one? If so normalized, should he conform?
"Do you believe what the others are doing is okay?"
"If nobody cares, there isn't a line between what's okay and what isn't."
"I just want your opinion."
"Eh," monotone stilts along his shrug. "I don't care in the slightest. It's fine."
"Would you do the same?"
"Do you want to?"
"Why are you circling this back to me?"
"You ask too many questions."
Senses roused, Hunted's body flickers when Cold steps from his perch.
"Are you scared? Of me or what you're suppressing?"
They single their image fully on him now, the overgrown scene returning to background.
"If you want to explore, I'm fine with it. It's a different experience I'm willing to share."
Come Cold's typical skewered confidence, his heels find courage to unfurl.
"She will be fine with it? Is she here?"
"She's also with Her, doing what she does best."
"Which is?"
He's pursued, doesn't fall back. Every grassy crunch mirrors a crackling flame forging to life inside. Closer, closer, close to his ear.
"Float in the shadows."
He tightens for the better, awaiting a move, throat yawning as if harboring the iceberg freezing his blood. It never came, only a soft sigh; "And yours?"
"Her too."
"Afraid she'll find out?"
"We're not an item. We tell each other as such."
The icy camp between shoulder and neck leaves with Cold.
"Then why are you anxious?"
"Look who's asking questions now."
Snark; it's a satisfaction. He should use it again sometime.
"Well?" His enabler speaks, clue of emotion --- anticipation --- breaking their lax. "Do you want to start here?"
"... No, there's dens about. We can dunk in those."
Twin sluggish blink and nod replied. Cold's arms wrapping over the small of their back, Hunted in command, knows of a lair in stride. Only time he's followed is when "nym" completes his "epo". Can't let it bother him --- focus on the objective, the assignment. There eroding in miniature mountain, silt and rock, a dark portal stretching around awry branches and bush.
"Hm. How cozy."
His tone never raises an octave yet anyone could hear his barefaced sarcasm behind drywall.
"You first."
All Hunted demonstrated was a brief, contemplating glance before hunching into the maw. The channel is wide, enough to accommodate a polite grouping. The journey down is steep, so let's be cautious ---
He was rightfully irritated two seconds into registering he'd been shoved. His pint frame somersaults across dust, pops out the exit and onto rocky ground. His chivalrous partner slides with ease thereafter.
Blunt; "Why?"
Cold didn't crack a grin but Hunted heard one shuffle in the skin under.
"I'll get used to the dirt smell."
Ignored.
"So... how do we...?"
"I don't cheer for whispering sweet nothings in the moonlight."
"Do you flaunt the physical aspects?"
Cold just stops, as if an idea so thick paralyzed him.
"Depends," his syllables fizz past teeth. "Keep me entertained; I declare a challenge."
There is one repertoire Hunted can initiate.
"Oh? How intriguing. Go on, don't keep me waiting."