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[arcy]

The slow slip of ooze down his back, the blinding, blurred pain. Shifting shadows. Videogames can't move.
Nobody was coming.
Ultimately, it doesn't even matter.

---

"Arrowhead," A bubbling sense of unease, clogging in his throat, going entirely unheard. His mentor's ear flickers, that familiar pensive look fading from his face with effort. Videogames can see it even still, not quite as well hidden as Arrowhead would have liked.
That was fine. It's only Videogames that can still see it, now.
Arrowhead doesn't acknowledge him.
"Arrowhead," He tries again, raising his voice. Lets just enough of that worry to seep into his voice, so that Arrowhead sighs and stops, tail swiping with a sense of irritation.
"What is it, Videopaw," Exhaustion. And ouch, Videopaw, huh? He usually just calls him Felix these days. He must be pretty upset. It's not Videogames' problem, though. Arrowhead won't let it be. And that's -- fine. Arrowhead is smarter than he, so he can deal with it himself.
"There, was, um, another one," Arrowhead's response is immediate, ears falling back and he looks so hunches his shoulders and he looks so angry, fur bristling even despite the upset face even he can't seem to hold back.
It says something about Arrowhead's distress that he doesn't even cuff him on the head for that um.
"Who?" Rough and detached, so completely contradictory from Arrowhead's face. What was the point of keeping your voice distant if your face couldn't match it?
"The -- One of the students," Flunked in training, and ultimately fell apart once she was left behind. "Saikta," Sheska's sister. She'd never liked Videogames much, something sour in her expression whenever she regarded him, but he was supposed to be blank and generic and liked, so he'd -- he'd been trying to sway her, just in passing. And it'd been starting to work, but now she was --.
Arrowhead says nothing, but Videogames watches his face intently. Alarm. Sinking realization. What was going on in his mentor's head? Did he realize how transparent he was, or was it just Videogames again, noticing far more than he should?
Arrowhead isn't hurt by her loss. He doesn't care. There is, however, something like dread, like he's realized something horrible. Videogames doesn't like it. He doesn't press. It's not his place. It's never his place.
"I'll take care of it," Arrowhead says, finally. Videogames tilts his head just an inch. Take care of what? The funeral? Arrowhead takes a shuddering breath, face half-crumpling even as he makes a valiant effort to keep his face "Felix, look ..."
"Arrowhead?"
".. Take care of yourself, okay? Don't go wandering out at night or anything like that,"
"...Okay, Arrowhead,"

---

"Felix," Saikta's funeral was over and done. Arrowhead seeks Videogames out now, something haunted to his eyes, braced for something. "We have to talk,"
"Arrowhead?" Something's terribly wrong. Videogames regards Arrowhead with concealed concern, ears pricking with attentiveness. Cover his worry with alertness, prompt him for a proper answer. Don't let him regret it and leave.
"Felix," And he's so tired. Why is Arrowhead so tired? What's Videogames missing? Why is Arrowhead only telling him now? "There's something ... after me,"
That hadn't been what he'd expected.
"After you?" On second thought, maybe Videogames is glad Arrowhead told him at all. Don't make him regret it. Don't make him regret it. Stay attentive, no emotion. You have no emotions.
"That's why .. this is happening,"
"Th -- You mean the --" No, no, it couldn't be. Arrowhead isn't involved with this. But Arrowhead would't lie. He needs more information.
"Yes, it, I," He's fumbling, why is he fumbling? He's never stumbled, or tripped over his words, and he gets mad whenever Videogames does. Something heavy is curdling in his chest. A sigh. "It's trying to get me to back down. It wants me as -- a part of it."
"A part of it?" A pause. This is happening because of Arrowhead. Arrowhead has a plan. Arrowhead has a plan. He always has a plan. "What're you going to do?" Why are people still dying? Why does he sound so defeated?
"Nothing."
And Videogames -- freezes. Nothing? He waits. Arrowhead doesn't elaborate. Nothing. Nothing at all. He's letting this happen. He's letting this happen.
"What're the repercussions? Will it get stronger?"
"No."
"So why? And -- And if you don't have any plans, if you aren't going to make any, why are you letting them die?" Videogames' voice shakes. Why is it shaking? He's in control. He's in control. No emotions. Videogames doesn't have feelings, because he's not a person, and a king can't let themselves be upset. He can't be upset. He feels nothing.
"It's not my responsibility," Arrowhead says, blunt. Regarding Videogames with bared teeth and dead eyes. "You can't control what anyone, anything else will do. It makes no sense to be a matyr," And Videogames --. Arrowhead is always right, isn't he? He's always right. Videogames should listen to him.
But he's wrong.
People are .. going, and Arrowhead isn't doing anything. It isn't matyrdom, is it? Does it really matter if it is, and it's not, if only it stops.
Videogames doesn't want Arrowhead dead. He can't understand his thought process, either. Something sickly circles in Videogames' chest, something distrusting. Arrowhead always said he had his best interests in mind. The group's best interests. Was this the best interests of the group? Letting people die because you couldn't come up with a better solution? Because, when you failed to, you refused to take the final option?
It's suffocating. Arrowhead is smart. Arrowhead can come up with a plan. Arrowhead didn't, and didn't try and he valued his life over everyone else's. Like a coward. Like he promised he never would.
Ultimately, does he really have Videogames' best interests in mind either, if he's been lying in the first place? Videogames' best interests don't matter. Videogames doesn't matter. But it matters to the group, because Videogames is going to be king, but maybe, if Arrowhead was well and truly wrong, and what if --.
He doesn't like doubting Arrowhead. He doesn't want to. He shouldn't. He thinks of Arrowhead's annoyance, Videopaw, the way he'd shooed Sheska away at the festival, and the sour faces he made whenever he talked to someone for too long --
Everyone else looked so happy without all of these lessons, all the doubt and lies and masks. So in control. It didn't stop them, they still were so strong --
Stop.
"I need to think about this," He says, finally. People are dying. Arrowhead's letting it happen. Videogames won't. He'll do something about this, he just needs to think. He can't look at Arrowhead's face, and he can't handle the constant loop of he let this happen. There's a trick to it, something he's missing because he's too emotional. He's too hysterical, he's in the wrong, he needs to calm down.
"Felix --" A note of panic. Videogames doesn't heed him, easily stepping around the form of his mentor, wings slowly spreading with each step. "Felix!"
The sky is dark when Videogames takes flight.

---

"Don't go wandering out at night or anything like that --"
How much did Arrowhead know? Why isn't he telling them? Did he leave too soon? He said he wasn't going to freak out on Arrowhead, he wasn't going to make him regret talking, but he did.
Arrowhead was right. He's overemotional. Why did he choose him? Videogames would be a terrible king.
A flash of black. A flash of pain. Videogames' vision goes dark.
No one is coming.

---

"-- such a shame it came to this,"
A haze. Shadows and red. Sharp blue.
"-- good one, see?"
Blinding pain, something separated. He can't move.
"-- good care,"
He's soaking and sticky. It slides down his fur, he can't see. He can't focus. Shuts his eyes and he can't breathe.
"But maybe it won't come to --."
Hard to comprehend. Hard to feel. Hard to see past the pain.
A chuckle.
Fade out.

---

Awareness comes quickly.
His sides are sticky. He can't feel his back. The chill of the night air is cold against his back. His head is fuzzy.
It should hurt.
It doesn't hurt.
Why doesn't it hurt?
"A deal," It's saying. It takes a second to comprehend the words -- a deal? A paw hooked around his neck. It draws him in, pressing him against its side. Constricting. Blearily focusing -- blinking around, taking it in. He needs to know. He needs answers.
Green meets violet. Arrowhead looks back at him with the most open horror Videogames has ever seen on his face. No mask, no failed attempts at hiding it. Just a shaking expression, something solid setting.
"A deal," Arrowhead says, almost agreeingly. His voice is shaking, too. "Put him down." Without any fanfare, Videogames hits the ground.
He can't move.
A deal.
As rapidly as it came, his awareness fades out. His eyes stay on Arrowhead the whole time.

---

He wakes up slowly. Head fuzzy -- he can't remember. Numbness. He can't feel.
A deal.
The stench of copper. An ache over his body.
A deal.
A deal.
Why can't he remember?
Something wet beneath his weight. Something dried against his fur. It stretches uncomfortable against his skin as he shifts. His wings won't move when he tries to stretch them. Something's pressed against his back.
He doesn't feel them against his wings.
He can't feel his wings. Like they weren't there to begin with.
A deal.
The stench of copper.
A weight pressed against his back.
Arrowhead.
Videogames snaps to attention, eyes opening, ears pricking. Arrowhead. Arrowhead.
What happened? Why can't he remember? What happened? Something dark. Something fading.
Arrowhead.
The ground is red. It gives beneath his weight, soaked. The scent of copper.
Videogames can't breathe.
Arrowhead. He can't feel his wings. His back stretches uncomfortably when he shifts. His head is fuzzy, this is all his fault, why doesn't it hurt. It should hurt.
Arrowhead. Arrowhead, Arrowhead. Arrowhead, a liar.
A deal.
Arrowhead, bleeding on the ground. Arrowhead, blown to pieces.
"Don't go wandering off at night," and he was so stupid and emotional.
Videogames can't breathe.
He can't move his wings.
His back stretches uncomfortably when he shifts.
He can't breathe.
It's his fault.