Ink Splotches: WWFFY Part 20

Take the Ink Splotches: WWFFY Part 20 quiz.

You scoff. “No shit, Sherlock.” He casts you a sidelong glance. “Really, Savior? You’re resorting to petty human curse words? If you are aiming to insult me, at least reserve some class.”

[Again, ignore the crap in these boxes]

You flip him the bird. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Oh, very mature. Do you wish for me to help you, or not?”

“I DID, but now...I don’t see what you can do.” “Yeah, I DID want your help, but what use are you now?” “I did...I DO, but...I just don’t understand anything anymore.” “I originally did, but how can a necromancer help in this situation?” “I...I don’t...everything is just so messed up.”

The necromancer shifts uncomfortably as angry tears drip down your face. “Er...Savior? Are...you alright?”

You don’t even care about the tears anymore. “Does it LOOK like I’m okay?!” You angrily wipe at the tears. “It’s not cause I’m sad or anything! I...I cry when I’m angry!” You quietly wipe the tears. “Y-yeah. I...I’m fine.” You swallow, surprised at how much you’ve cried today. “Y-yes. I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” You turn your face so he can’t see your tears. “I-I’m okay! I just...got something in my eyes...”

You hear him exhale in frustration before a pair of long arms wrap around you. “It’s...it’s going to be okay, little Savior...” he awkwardly pats your back. “Er, we’ll find your mother...don’t cry...ah, damn this,” he mutters.

[Show me Love]

You blink, surprised at the affection that the shady necromancer is capable of. “Don’t cry! It’s...bad for the health,” he offers, still patting your back. You laugh at his lame attempts. He sighs in relief and releases you. “Are you better now?” he asks.

“Pft, I’m fine,” you answer, drying your face. “Just peachy,” you retort, rubbing your wet face on your sleeve. “Yes,” you answer with a slight smile. “I’m good.” You nod once. “Feeling better now.” You nod, “Much better!”

“Thank the devil,” he mutters. He runs a hand through his lank black hair. “I apologize, I’m just not used to...tears.” You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a necromancer. Don’t tell me that no one’s ever cried in front of you before.”

[Till I'm screaming for more]

He scoffs, pulling his hair into a low ponytail at his neck. “Tears of grown men and women don’t faze me as they used to. But you’re still a child, little Savior. I may be a necromancer, but I am no monster. No, I just resurrect them,” he adds with a cagy

[cont] smile.

You make a noncommittal noise before asking, “So can you help me or not?” The necromancer eyes you warily. “I don’t know...I may be capable of it, but this...I don’t want to get too involved.” You snort. “Please. You’re raising my...my dead mother,” your

[cont] voice only wavers the tiniest bit before you continue, “That isn’t personal?”

“I do that for every client. But helping you search for your mother’s missing body?” he shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. Perhaps if you were just a normal client, I’d readily be able to help,” he says, studying the strange formations in the

[cont] ground. You frown. “What do you mean ‘normal client?’” Yeah, what DO you mean, necro? The damn guy should just help. I’m guessing he has a good reason...? ^ I agree. We should wait to hear his reason. ^ As long as he doesn’t take too long! I’m getting antsy.

The necromancer cocks his head. “You’re a Savior. Helping you would mean leaning toward the Gifted ones’ side of the war.”

“And? Would that really be so bad?” “What’s the problem with that, necro?” “Does that...mean something?” “I fail to see the problem here.” “...Is that it? I was expecting something...I dunno, bigger?”

“You don’t see? Let me explain,” he says, turning and pacing across the tiny distance of the dank tomb. “In this war, there is the Gifted ones’ side, which would be YOUR side, and the demons’ side. All across our realm, and the next one, you may ask any

[cont] creature which side they are on. They will answer one or the other.”

“And what will happen to these people if the opposing side wins?” He asks, whirling around to face you. You shake your head and shrug. “I’ll tell you; they DIE, little Savior. Now, think about this: after a war, what is there plenty of?”

[Abandoned bathtubs and currency]

“I...er, debt?” you answer without conviction. The necromancer rolls his eyes, muttering something about humans. “No, little Savior, that was not the answer that I was looking for. I was speaking of DEATH. After a war, there is ALWAYS a large amount of

[cont] casualties from each side.

“So when whichever side wins the war, what will they ultimately wish to do?” You sigh, “Raise their dead?” The necromancer spins around and points to you, “Yes! Exactly. And who do they get to raise their dead?” You roll your eyes. “Necromancers?”

[Like a game of pick-up sticks]

“Yes. And if the necromancers were to, say, be on the OPPOSITE side, the losing side, what would happen to necromancers?” You took a wild guess, “They’d be killed?” Kyrindor snapped his fingers. “Killed, and NEVER be considered for business again. Do you

[cont] see the dilemma?”

“I see the dilemma,” you agree. “But was it really necessary to drone on like this for 10 minutes? You could’ve just left it at, ‘we need to stay neutral so that the winning side will consider us for business’. No need for the lengthy speech.”

[Clowns all around you]

He sniffed, pulling up his collar. “I do what I feel needs to be done.” You took a deep breath, before making your case. Which is your method of persuasion?

I’ll attempt to be sneaky yet direct about my persuasion, but probably end up confusing him so much he agrees anyway. Make my case—perhaps a few threats here and there? Ask politely; you catch more bees with honey than vinegar. Point out the pros and cons; lay it out, black and white. I’ll try to be as clear as possible, but end up rushing into everything at once; maybe unintentionally intimidating?

So it’ll probably sound a little something like this:

“Hey, I know you want to help me, and by helping me you’re really helping yourself, so help yourself and help me.” “You’ll help me,” you stop to cock a gun that has appeared out of thin air. “Won’t you?” “It’d be really great if you could help me.” “If you help me and the Saviors win the war, you’ll already be in good graces with the winners. I might recommend you, too." “Listen, you should help me because that would be really nice of you and I’d always be grateful and really you should do it—”

The necromancer groaned, sliding his hands over his eyes. “I...I don’t know...if the demons hear about it...” You cut him off, “They won’t! And even if they do, it’s not like you’re planning a freaking counterattack against them! You’re just helping a

[cont] little girl find her mother again. Please. PLEASE help me?”

The necromancer sighed and crossed his arms, obviously mulling it over. “If you don’t help me, I’ll start crying again.” He stumbles at your threat before holding up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, little Savior” he conceded. “I’ll help you. But

[cont] keep this quiet, alright?”

You nod, placing your hands on the edge of the coffin. “So,” you say, leaning forward and enunciating every word, “Who took my mother?” The necromancer shook his head.

[I play tricks]

“Ah ah ah, Little Savior,” he said, wagging his finger at you. “No. Now you are going to go right back to your other little Saviors, right now. Understand? Good.” He walked around you and began up the stairs, sliding his hands in his pockets. “Coming,

[cont] little Savior?” he called. “Y-yes!” Of course I am. I ain’t gonna be trapped in some dark dusty EMPTY tomb for the rest of my life. “Yeah.” I need to get outta here. The dark is creeping me—I-I mean, I just...think it smells in here. >.> “C-coming!” I do NOT want to spend another second in this place. It’s dark and cold and empty and just brings back bad memories “Well...I...” *sigh* “Coming.” I don’t know...I kind of wanted to spend a little more time in here... “Couldn’t leave me in here if you locked me in threw away the key!” Er, yeah, that’s pretty much it.

You run up after him. He’s already outside. You push the tomb door open and are greeted with his outstretched hand. You frown. “What…?” He raises an eyebrow. “Take my hand, little Savior. Must we walk through this again?”

“Oh, heh heh, right...THAT...” you stare awkwardly at the hand. “Hm.” You glare menacingly at the hand. “O-oh!” you laugh nervously. “R-right.” But you still don’t take his hand. You stare at the hand. “I don’t...maybe we could just stay here for a little while more?” You laugh nervously. “Oh. I don’t think we necessarily have to use your teleporting thing and it’s just really inconvenient..."

“Any day now, little Savior.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to.”

[Time is a valuable thing--not really though]

The necromancer rolls his violet eyes and mutters something incomprehensible. It sounded something like, “Stupid crying humans,” but you could’ve been mistaken. You barely have time to react before he leans forward, grabs your hand, and secures it in the

[cont] previous death-grip.

You gasp, as everything goes black and the air around you begins to rush once more. You close your eyes, terrified again, before you remember to focus on the pain of the necromancer’s grip. Your tether to reality.

[cont]

“You may open your eyes, Little Savior.” You blink, letting go of the necromancer’s hand. “Whoa,” you remark, still blinking the spots from your vision. “Man...I HATE that.”

[I bet you do]

The necromancer laughs, “Of course you do. Well, this is farewell,” he says abruptly, turning from you and moving toward the heavily forested area.

[Give it up man]

“W-wait!” you call, stumbling after him. “You said you’d help me—

—jerk!” —asshole!” —Mr. Necromancer!” —necro!” —Taffy-Man!”

“And help you I will, Little Savior,” he responds without another glance back at you. “But for now, return to your other Saviors. Back to the Oracle. I have a feeling there is some big news in wait.”

[You know where]

You frown. “But...how will I find you?”

[You know how]

“Oh no,” he says, turning back. “You do not find me. I find YOU.” For some unknown reason, you shuddered at his statement. “Oh, er...okay.”

[Now tell me why]

He nods once, satisfied. “Glad you understand. Ah, and one more thing,” he adds, leaning uncomfortably close, almost nose-to-nose with you. “I am assuming you decided to raise your mother in secret?”

You try not make eye-contact, but nod in guilt. You raise your chin in a nod, trying to maintain eye-contact. You bite your lip, guilty. You nod. You blink. Of course you did. Does he even have to ask? You nod. You sigh and nod. Looks like you couldn’t much past the necro.

A knowing smile raises his lips. “I thought as much. Let us keep that way, hm?”

[Plug it in and turn me on]

You nod again, resisting the urge to step away from his too-close position. He suddenly veers back, humming the same melody he’d been humming in the graveyard before.

[Drinking from the poisoned lips]

“Till we meet again, Little Savior,” he bids, disappearing into the woods, the haunting tune of his humming keeping you company long after he’s left. You sigh. Time to get back to the Oracle’s Palace.

[We die together]

[Necromancer]

[We are switching POVs, ladies and gentlemen]

Kyrindor walked until he was absolutely sure you were out of hearing distance, and then some. He stopped and took off his glove, raising it up in the moonlight. It was glowing with a purple residue. His mood became grim.

[Grimm]

He’d known exactly who had been to your mother’s tomb the second he’d thrown the lid open. He was just hoping that perhaps he’d been wrong. Not this time. He sighed and took off his other glove, carefully folding them both and depositing them in his

[cont] pockets.

“I’m sorry about this, little Savior. Seems I won’t be able to help you after all.”

...

...SCENE. Okay, ADMIT IT. YOU KIND OF LOVE KYRINDOR NOW. I do! (That's cause you created him) SO? Ha, please continue onto the RETURN of you to the Oracle's Palace.

ONWARD--->

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