Chapter Text
Time within the time room was both ever-present and completely void. An interesting phenomenon, but not one that mattered when considering how time was actually spent. Prismo never bothered to assign scarab any real work; instead, Scarab had to take it upon himself to keep matters within the time room running smoothly. His self-appointed work mostly consisted of dusting, disinfecting, and picking up after the beer cans that Prismo would leave lying around. It wasn't very often that he would be faced with the beer cans, however there were times where he would leave Prismo to his own devices only to later find the messy remnants of how Prismo seemed to cope. As an immortal being, the alcohol didn't necessarily effect Prismo, but was more like a habit that he must have picked up from engaging with mortals so often. The drinks provided a placebo effect, allowing Prismo a mechanism to vent his misery.
Occasionally, Scarab would even catch Prismo in the act. When this would happen, Scarab took it upon himself to get a head start at cleaning up, but he also would make an effort to make conversation. It seemed to help with Prismo's mood, and if nothing else it stopped him from irresponsibly consuming as much as he otherwise would.
Scarab was having trouble balancing his time to himself and his time around Prismo. He found that he simply couldn’t get Prismo out of his head, maybe an effect of there being very little to look at in the time room. More specifically though, Scarab found that his time alone would end up being spent thinking about how Prismo had comforted him, and how he had then comforted Prismo in return. There was something so terribly vulnerable about the way they had interacted, so… weak, and yet he still liked the thought. Scarab had grown accustomed to sitting beside Prismo, andfor them to both physically lean against one another. It somehow made him feel more safe than any amount of combat training ever could.
It became a habit that Scarab went to Prismo as a distraction. Away from his jumbled thoughts and crippling pains. Leaning his back against Prismo would help to ease the insistent itch that lay hidden under his elytra. Sometimes it merely felt sore and could be ignored after a stretch, other times it itched like a spreading static and proved to be an annoyance, but the worst times were when a wing would crinkle itself around in an attempt to straighten out. The pain felt akin to if a human’s broken bones were clumsily forced together by someone inexperienced in how bones worked. It never worked, either. What little remained attached was far too twisted and bent to ever flatten out to how it once was.
Scarab spent much of his free time delving into the complex worldbuilding of their story. He and Prismo would spend hours writing together and brainstorming ideas. Scarab had a decent idea of how things would play out, but Prismo's input helped him to properly build up what he wanted in the story.
After Scar had come to the conclusion that Prism was the prime suspect, he carried out an investigation at once. Scar didn’t know the way through the woods to reach the Wishing well and its keeper directly, so instead he took it upon himself to begin a stakeout. He was aware that the wish keeper would make visits to the local market, so he strategically kept watch over the edge of the woods at times when it might be reasonable to find Prism on his way out.
During his second watch, Scar got to witness firsthand what happens to those that selfishly seek the wishing well. One of the kingdom knights, no less. They went in with their full armor and a small sack containing what was most definitely coins, rumored to be what the well accepts in exchange for a wish fulfilled. The knight went into the woods, emanating unearned confidence and covered in pristine armor that indicated they must have only recently graduated from a rookie. Scar didn’t bother to stop them, it would be pointless and he didn’t want to expose his self-appointed mission. Only minutes later, a scream of terror came from the woods along with snarls that were more difficult to make out. Terrible really, that such pristine new armor would be lost to the wood-dwelling beasts that served as the well’s natural defense.
Tales told of the beasts, often described as shadowy creatures of nightmares. They were highly efficient in their job. No one quite knew how it was that Prism could navigate the forest so casually with those beings always out and about, but the kingdom didn’t care so long as he would navigate those that the ruler personally approved to make a wish.
It took 3 more days of Scar’s diligent watch before Prism was finally seen on his routine market visit. Scar trailed behind him, keeping a safe distance and diligent watch. Scar kept track of who Prism interacted with, and even noted that he seemed close with Cosmo. There were small things that Scar noticed about Prism as he went about his grocery run. Frequent looking over his shoulder, small nervous twitches in his fingers, and some unseen urgency.
What really got Scar interested was the way in which Prismo went about town, taking winding turns that made it difficult to follow, a clear sign that something was up. Unfortunately for Scar, it caused him to lose track of Prism’s whereabouts. With no better idea of where the Wish keeper would go, Scar once again waited near the entrance to the forest. The sun lowered on the horizon indicating the passage of time, it had been approximately 30 ‘medieval minutes’ before Prism was seen once again returning home (Prismo had insisted that their story have an easy to reference passage of time since it took place somewhere with a day and night cycle.)
Not wanting to lose his only lead, Scar made the impulsive decision to follow Prism to his home, intending to confront him there. He carried no intent nor means to make a wish, so expertly following the wish keeper’s path should allow for safe travel. Occasionally he heard whispers, too hushed to make out. What he could recognize is that at least for a moment at the start of their trek, Prism was the source of one of the whispers. Prism maintained a strong pace, weaving this way and that through the trees with trunks so thick that it proved to be no issue hiding behind them. The challenge came in keeping up without alerting the other to his presence.
Scar managed to make his way into the forest without encountering a single beast, nor cause Prism to look behind himself. He watched from behind a tree as Prism emerged into the clearing where the wishing well could be seen atop a hill, and right next to it was also the keeper’s cottage. Scar was so caught up looking at his surroundings that he didn’t even realize Prism had stopped in his tracks and turned around.
“And who are you, that the nightmares have allowed through?”
Scar jumped at how the keeper so readily addressed him. Had he known he was here all along?
Scarab had been upset with Prismo at this part. They fought over whether Prismo’s character would actually be able to detect Scar following him. The two of them even called Cosmic Owl to settle their dispute. Not wanting to take either side, Cosmic Owl had recommended they each roll a dice and whoever got the higher number got to decide on what was put in. Prismo rolled and 5 and Scarab a 2. Once again, Prismo ended up getting what he had wanted. Scarab had to suppress the urge to make it into a big deal.
It was normal for them to disagree on what should happen next in the story, but it was becoming harder for him to really want to fight against the other. Not that he couldn’t, he just- something changed since he had been assigned to work under Prismo.
When he would argue with Prismo previously, it had been done with bitter malice, actively trying to get on the other’s nerves. All he wanted was for Prismo to feel the same level of crushing defeat that Scarab had. Yet for some odd reason, Prismo still wanted Scarab there with him. Influenced by loneliness or not, there was something to how Prismo welcomed him in. It made Scarab sick to think about, his mixed feelings clashing and colliding.
Scar emerged from the shadows and stated his business. Prism was suspect number 1, and that Scar was dedicated to finding the culprit and putting them to justice. Prism didn’t argue back, instead, he even invited Scar within his cottage. Certainly an odd move for someone just accused of murder.
Prism plead not guilty, but welcomed the company that came with Scar’s investigation. Scar even thought to question how it was that Prism was able to avoid the wrath of the nightmare creatures. Prism merely claimed that they liked him, that he knew them well. Prism even suggested that the only reason Scar was allowed through was not because of him following Prism, but because Prism was curious as to why he was being followed by something without means to make a wish and had told them to leave Scar alone.
The two of them talked, and when Scar brought up the bracelet, the reason for his suspicions, Prism brushed it off saying that it had been missing for some time now. It might make sense, however, it didn’t stop Scar from his investigation.
Scar continued his unwarranted search of both the cottage and clearing. Prism showed no defiance, and chatted away at the stories behind many of his possessions. The stars twinkled in the sky, and after searching the entire premises Scar found nothing.
Upon announcing that it be time for his departure, Prism cheekily offered up another idea, “How about you stay here for the night? Y’know, take the heavy armor off and you can sleep in the most relaxing bed imaginable…” He threw in an advertisement for his friend, “Curtesy of Cosmo, he’s got some real quality beds.”
When Scarab saw what Prismo had written, he asked, “Didn’t you say that the cottage only had Prism’s bed?”
Prismo’s face grew red. Scarab guessed it must have been from being embarrassed about having forgotten his own description of his character’s home.
Prismo avoided making eye contact, “O-oh, yeah- I was just thinking that… maybe they could both-“ Prismo shook his head clear of whatever he was thinking, “No, no. Nevermind. It’s nothing.“
“It almost sounds like…” Scarab pondered aloud.
He never did finish sharing his thought, instead becoming distracted at how his own face warmed under the idea that Prismo’s character might possibly be offering the idea that the bed be shared.
Scarab felt an itch crawl up his back. Under his elytra, his muscles pleaded to be allowed open movement. It was a long forgotten signal that his wings would flutter when he became particularly delighted. Scarab had to lean back against Prismo to ignore the restless feeling and keep the embarrassing urge subdued.
The thought was ridiculous. Why would they ever? Prismo must’ve meant something else. Scarab shouldn't be letting these ideas get to him in this way. He must be overthinking it. Still, the thought of them- of their characters both making use of the same bed lingered.
Scar declined the offer, accusing it of being a manipulative strategy of some sort. Instead, Prism walked Scar back out of the forest despite it being late into the night.
When they reached the wood’s exit, Scar continued on without a word. Prism kindly waved a goodbye.
Before even taking a rest, Scar reported back to his boss, Bob R. Scar suggested that action had to be taken to more heavily investigate the murders taking place, only for his concerns to be shut down. It came as no wonder, Prism ranked highly in his position to the kingdom, even the suggestion of a public investigation involving him might negatively reflect on the kingdom.
Scar left defeated, only to be stopped by lower rank guards that seemed to be frantically looking for him. There had been another murder. Scar heard secondhand that this time the arms had been cut off, and missing.
Reinvigorated, Scar burst right back into Bob R.’s office. For the sake of the safety of the people, he demanded that he be allowed further investigation privileges. It was still a no.
“Hey Scrabby, how come they aren’t listening? Like- Scar does have a point, even though we agreed that Prism isn’t the killer, it’d still be reasonable to at least investigate.” Prismo had asked him when he was proofreading what Scarab wrote.
“Reason rarely changes opinions.” Scarab replied bitterly, though not wanting to delve into his own experience with it.