Oh boy, how's Damien reacting to Dark and Wilford fading?
(I’d like to apologize profusely, but if I don’t write some angst, I’m going to explode with all the deep, dark well of emotions that is currently building up inside of me because of the TERROR Mark is currently invoking. So…. sorrysorrysorrysorry…)
He goes to Wilford first after he gets the news. The pink Ego is resting in one of the audience seats of the studio when Damien finally finds him. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed or something?” Damien asks, kneeling next to him and covering Wilford’s hand with his own. “Colonel?”
It’s the old nickname that pulls Wilford out of his thoughts. Before he was only staring at the stage with empty eyes, and now he turns to look down at Damien. “It was all a joke… wasn’t it? Me, this place, everything I worked for,” he turns his head back to the stage. “It’ll all disappear when I’m gone. Like a bad joke.”
Damien grits his teeth and shakes his head furiously. “No! It’s not a joke, and you won’t disappear! I won’t let him do this to you!”
Wilford’s hair has all but lost its pink hue. His bow tie is gone, tossed away somewhere carelessly, and his eyes–usually so full of mirth and madness–hold only sorrow now. “Tell Celine that I forgive her, and that I hope she forgives me, too.”
“No,” Damien sobs. “I won’t do it! You’ll tell her yourself when we go find her together!”
“And make sure Bim and Walter don’t do anything stupid. You know how dramatic we Ipliers are, always gunning for revenge or something.” He chuckles. “They don’t deserve that.”
Damien grabs Will’s shirt and shakes him, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Shut up, Will! Shut up! I suffered for years and clawed my way up through the blackest darkness to get back to you, and I won’t let him take you from me! Not again!”
Wilford stares at him in fear as Damien begins to glow a bright cyan, the rest of him going black and white against the burst of color. Will kneels down onto the floor with Damien, prying the other man’s hands away from the front of his shirt and then hugging him tight. “You’ll be ok.”
“No, I won’t. Not if you’re not here with me,” he cries, trembling. “You’re all I have left. Even Celine abandoned me…”
Will sighs, each breath coming in and out ragged and shaking. “The others will take care of you. Just give them a chance. You’ll really like the Host. Just read to him, and he’ll be your best friend.”
Damien chuckles a little, but it’s choked and wet with tears. “Promise me something?”
Wilford leans back now that Damien’s aura has gone back down and the color has returned to his puffy cheeks. “Yeah?”
“Don’t die.” After this, Damien gets up and runs out of the studio, leaving Will crouched in the middle of his life’s work only to find it shockingly empty.
So, Dark and Wilford are dead right? Celine and Damien are finally released from Dark’s body. Wilford’s dead, so he can finally see Damien and Celine in heaven. SOMETHING GOOD ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO THE BOIS
The night was quiet as always, the soft chirps of crickets being faintly heard from outside, most of the staff had gone to bed, except for a few who had insisted on helping Damien with his big night. They seemed excited for him, Damien however, had many doubts.
“Maybe I should just lock myself in my room and avoid my problems.” Said Damien, looking in the mirror and continuously straightening his suit out, which was a lovely midnight blue embroidered with silver on the edges.
Bing sighed heavily, grabbing Damien’s hands to stop his from fidgeting. “Master Damien, I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but that’s kind of pathetic, dude.”
True, he had always been broken, but not like this. The smiles turned to tears, the carefree attitude replaced by scowls and sulking. He spent most of his time holed up in his room. This wasn’t like him, and Dark hated it.
Celine and Damien hated it.
They were louder than ever, screaming and yelling that something was wrong with Wil. They wanted him to find out what happened, but why should he? William - Wilford, now - was not the same man as he was before. This wasn’t the man that had been invited to that poker night. He deserved no attention from Dark.
Then, he missed a meeting.
Wil had never missed a meeting before. He was always there with a new idea, a new plan to take over the channel, but now he was absent. Celine and Damien were alarms in Dark’s head, reverting to full panic mode. There was no resisting them now, not when they were like this.
Time to run.
Up the stairs I hope he’s alright he’ll be alright down the hall he’ll be okay this is a false alarm open the door the sadness was temporary-
Blood on the floor
A cold body
And a note.
With trembling hands, Dark picked up the scrap of paper that Wilford had left on his bed.
I know where Celine and Damien are. They’ve gone to the other side, and I’m going to find them. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. We all come back eventually, right?
* * *
The next day, Dark didn’t attend the meeting. There were, however, two new members. One was a man with a soft blue aura and a suit, the other was a young woman in a black dress and a violent red aura.
Here me out: WKM Mark has already had his revenge. Wil’s insane, Celine is no more, and now it just seems like he’s trying to live his life. I mean, there’s no one left on his vendetta list, and the Detective doesn’t seem to be after him.
But who is the one person who got fucked in all of this who didn’t actually directly hurt Mark?
Now sweet boy isn’t totally innocent (as seen in the newspaper clippings in the office) but he seemed to be the only one who actually gave a damn in all of this and truly considered himself to be Mark’s friend.
So how on earth would this betrayal of everything he thought Mark to be sit with him? Not well I’m sure.
Now I know the easy counter, “It can’t be Damien because he and Celine are inside of Dark!”
Half true. Damien and Celine’s ENERGIES are in there along with maybe a few of their angrier whims, but who said the entire soul was?
Not only that, but Mark said that Damien was shoved into that broke and beaten body somewhere in the livestream (which I’ll find and link later because I’m at work), which means that those two spirits we saw in the void?
Projections of the demon. Not Damien and Celine.
Which means Damien could have escaped. Maybe even using that broken body to walk amongst us because Mark sure was up until he abandoned it. Perhaps even at the cost of Y/N once more, or even freeing them too in the process.
But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that this could be him, and I’m more than sure he would like to ‘catch up’ with his ‘friends’…
Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Napoleonic Era RPF, 19th Century CE RPF, Regency England - Fandom Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Napoleon Bonaparte/Arthur Wellesley, Charles Arbuthnot/Harriet Arbuthnot, Batley/His fear of French Republican values Additional Tags: Napoleon runs for mayor, anachronistic mayoral elections bring out the best in everyone, Hudson Lowe wants to have a conniption fit, Napoleon for President 2k20 Series: Part 5 of A Near Run Thing Summary:
Napoleon, in a bid to make Woodford ‘Occult ready’, decides to run for Mayor. His opponents are the vicar and Charles Arbuthnot. The usual ridiculous drivel ensues.
/I am here for anachronistic mayoral elections/
‘I want to run for mayor,’ General Bonaparte says.
Batley coughs. Bonaparte waits for him to clear his throat with patient expression. Then he repeats himself.
‘You can’t!’ Batley cries.
‘We don’t have a mayor! And you’re not English. And that isn’t how any of this works.’
‘Nonsense. We shall have an election. I will run. You may enter if you like. I believe we can drum up some good competition.’
‘You don’t even speak English!’
‘Bertrand will interpret.’ Bonaparte, evidently done with the conversation, cheerfully pats Batley on the cheek. ‘This will be good for Woodford’s moral. After all this nasty business with fairies and battles and trolls Woodford needs something to distract itself. I’m very excited, I think this will be a good exercise for all involved. Make sure you choose a trusty campaign manager, I recommend Mrs. Topsom.’