At Least I'm Not Starving [Don't Starve, Wilson [[Upd. 6.29.18 ]] - Part 14/?]

[Red Ring of Death]

Sooooo I know I haven't really done anything here yet and I've never actually written anything QUITE like this before but I thought I'd give it a try? If anyone couldn't quite tell yet, I loooove video games and I thought "Hey I should do something of Don't Starve where something's just BEGGING to go wrong!" Starting off simple but I'd like if this were a continuing series but ya know how it is; if no one reads it, I'd rather not look like one of "those people" and keep updating it like "READ MY STUFF OMG" or something like that but I digress. So... I hope you guys enjoy it! Like I said, first time, not sure, have lots of ideas, etc.

________________________________________________________________

If he was being completely honest, Wilson felt terrible. He wasn’t exactly the epitome of perfect health to begin with between his habit of forgoing sleep and food in favour of crazy, spontaneous experimentation but even so, given any other scenario, he fancied himself capable of basic immunity 101.

Not the case today as he felt a shiver tear its way down his spine. He was curled up in front of a waning campfire, hugging his knees to his chest as water slid off his old straw hat that barely did its job. He was still wet; every time he started to feel drier, the wind would change direction, spraying him with a fine mist of fresh raindrops. Each one felt like a needle on his clammy, pale skin and he cursed his poor luck every time it happened; suffice to say, he was cursing himself a lot that morning.

Then again, the day seemed doomed from the start. He remembered waking up just long enough to toss a couple more pinecones on his campfire to keep it alive but shortly after drifting back to sleep, a string of lightning struck close to where he was and he jerked awake again, drenched to the bone and lying in a shallow pool of muddy water. How hadn’t he noticed? At the time, he chalked it up to not finding much to eat the day before; a few berries and a handful of seeds were hardly an appropriate dinner and he assumed he wasn’t of the right mind to pay much attention to his surroundings, instead inwardly focusing on his churning stomach.

No matter which way he sliced it, he was here now, rain pouring and campfire dying. At least it was daytime now and the hallucinations that started to appear with his dwindling sanity were at bay. The strange thing was that he felt like he was doing a moderately appropriate job before this particular excursion; after making some admittedly bad choices involving listening to a voice on the radio and waking up in a forest hearing the same voice telling him “Hey pal don’t starve”, he felt imbued with a strange set of skills from knowing which berries were safe to eat (all of them!) to being aware of how to build a shoddy pickaxe from flint and twigs. He wasn’t starving, he was sane - relatively, at least – he was healthy enough for a thin scientist who spent 90 percent of his time indoors and he felt like even though he was stranded on a giant island in the middle of nowhere with a voice telling him “don’t die”, he was doing pretty darn good.

I mean… he was starving now. He was starving and wet and exhausted and, dare he say, lonely. The thoughts built up and he gritted his teeth, starting to draw upon his inward despair. However, the rational side of him started talking to him in a calm tone that reminded him of BEFORE this entire prospect. Your immune system is working overtime because you’re hungry and tired, he explained to himself. The rain will stop soon and you can take the rest of the day to relax proper.

Sure enough, as he talked himself down from the feverish high his hyperactive mind was starting to force him up, the rain started to subside. He thanked whatever demon he had signed his life over to and exhaled shakily though that just made the congestion creeping into his face all the more evident. He sniffed as quietly as he could and stood up uneasily, taking off his half-dead straw hat and instinctively replacing it with a flower crown that was in its early stages of withering. The crown brought him some minute comfort and he smiled faintly at himself in spite of still being soaked through and starting to struggle to breathe through his downturned nose. He could turn this into a victory, yet; ANYTHING to build himself up. He put his hands on his wet hips, striking a pose as confident as he could though he wanted to he would’ve loved nothing more than to just ball up and go to sleep.

“One-nothing, MAXWELL!” He shouted to no one in particular. “You aren’t gonna get the best of me THAT easily!” However, he almost didn’t finish his sentence as he faltered shortly after, knitting his brow and dropping the act as he fished for his handkerchief from a vest pocket; he WAS a gentleman, after all. The chill that made itself comfortable in his shoulders had crawled into his sinuses and he waited in anticipation of an impending sneeze but he’d be damned if he didn’t catch it.

Inhale, exhale, hitch… exhale. Furrowing brow, closing eyes, flaring nostrils, the itch got stronger. He was thankful that he was alone; he must’ve looked ridiculous right now standing in the middle of a sparse forest, sopping wet and eyes closed stupidly with a handkerchief held aloft in front of his face. In an effort to rattle the sneeze loose, he shook his head briefly, droplets of water working itself free from his thick black hair.

Another pause. Inhale, exhale, inhale, hitch, exhale, hitching--

Hhngx’ts!

It was stifled successfully enough and one might not have even been aware that he sneezed had he not make a fool of himself waiting for it. However, it did nothing to satisfy the itch that had settled in his sinuses and he groaned thickly, the congestion in his drying throat and nose there to stay for an indeterminate amount of time. He reached up and gingerly touched some petals of the flower crown he wore before turning, stowing the handkerchief back in his vest pocket and setting his tired sights on the west where there appeared to be a field on the horizon. There was his destination and though he wanted so badly to die or at least curl up in a REAL bed and sleep this impending illness off, he couldn’t afford to; he knew he wouldn’t last too much longer without food and he figured a field would at least have something he could use to make traps for the rabbits that wandered as aimlessly in their burrows as he did across the land.

One-nothing, Maxwell. You can’t get the best of me THAT easily.

Edited June 29, 2018 by Red Ring of Death
Title Update

[thegreatpretender]

Im so happy you made this! I've recently become obsessed with the game. It's literally a game of Don't Die instead of Don't Starve. I have yet to actually die of starving. Wolves kill me all the time. But I digress. I can't wait for you to put up the next part. I'm sure it'll be just as good and worth the wait

[mariaib]

as soon has i saw this in the fanfiction page i squeaked!! i love don't starve and i was kind of dissapointed when i didn't see any fanfiction for it!! can't wait for part 2!!

[Red Ring of Death]

I got two more replies than I was expecting so that's good enough for me! Sorry for the lack of what everyone comes onto this site for, I'm still setting up the environment and (blah blah excuse excuse)

___________________________________________________________________

Wilson finally made his way to the field of tall grass and dirt, every step seeming to drain him further and further. He still insisted on breathing through his nose though it mostly came out as a congested whistle; again, he was thankful that he was alone. The weather had cleared up nicely though there was an underlying sense of dread lingering in the air… or maybe that was just Wilson’s sinus headache that had settled just behind his eyes and made his vision sting.

He had to stay strong, though; this was a matter of survival and he wasn’t gonna let some little cold mitigate his potential for success! . . . Now he just had to get his brain on the same page as he staggered to create any good excuse to keep walking. At least he was in the field now and he could see warrens and warrens and grass and what if he just cut it all down and turned into a pile so he could crawl into it—He told himself to stop getting distracted like that and put a hand on his growling stomach; he had to get SOMETHING of substance or he really wouldn’t have to worry about this cold anymore.

He tiredly approached the tufts of grass, ignoring the screaming rabbits as they scrambled to escape from his view into their dark tunnels and separating the blades from the supple earth. As he collected the materials, his brain was mixing empty fumes with the thoughts of what all he would need to make said trap. Couple of sticks, weaving the grass together—damnation, he didn’t have any bait. That’s okay, he could just curl up and sleep--

“Stop,” He muttered aloud and, judging by the rasp in his voice, he wasn’t sure whether he was morose about feeling so ill or incredulous that his immune system was SO poor that it sounded like he hadn’t drank anything in days. Whichever it was, it was enough to occupy his mind while he absent-mindedly struggled to create something so basic as a trap while trying to stave off the itch that had returned to his nose, pausing much more often than was necessary to itch at it absently, yet with all the dignity he could muster.

At last, the trap was built and he had set it between two rabbit holes. He had just straightened up from the crouch he was in when he felt his breath catching in his nose again and he furrowed his brow with frustration, groping around for his handkerchief and pressing it up to his face again. Now came the waiting which, to him, was by FAR the worst part. He could judge from his history that these first few sneezes were the start on a path that he could tell was going to just spiral downwards and downwards. That somehow made waiting for the sneeze even more excruciating and, believe him, it was already painful as he stood there in the middle of the field next to a trap with no bait in it, breath hitching and WAITING for the burning, itching sensation to leave his face though he knew it wouldn’t. Not nearly.

Hhh… Hnxt’s!

He sniffled in an uncharacteristic, rather pathetic fashion as he massaged his slowly-reddening nose in the handkerchief before moving up to get the tears out of his eyes. He wasn’t entirely convinced that today was gonna end well and he shuddered an exhale, turning his head—what was that? His eye befell a bird that twitched on the ground for a few moments and alas! Seeds! Ah, ANYTHING was better at this point and he hastily shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket, straying from the trap and stumbling towards the seeds. He wasn’t thinking of anything else at this point except for eating. And trying not to keel over and cough up a lung. He saw another figure moving but he wasn’t sure if it was a hallucination or a different entity but he didn’t care; his primal urge was pushing him towards those seeds—Where’d they GO?

Wait. Okay so… one minute they were there and then they were gone and now there’s a FRIGGIN’ TURKEY BLUBBERING IN FRONT OF HIM. He inhaled sharply through his stuffed up nose and all sense of logic had temporarily abandoned him. He pulled a pickaxe from seemingly nowhere and he ground his teeth together.

“GO FOR THE EYES!!” He shouted, holding the pickaxe aloft and giving chase to the dumb beast. Of course, it ruffled its feathers and made a break for the nearest berry-deprived bush that, no doubt, it itself had cleaned but Wilson didn’t care; those were HIS seeds! As he ran, he could just feel Lady Luck digging her sharp nails into his eye sockets and caressing his downturned nose, whispering “too bad” into his ear and the thought made him burn more than the subtle fever that he’s pretty sure was trying to move in already was.

__________________________

On the horizon, two figures watched the lanky man with the… odd hair chase after the turkey using the pickaxe as a weapon.

“He’s not so bright, eh,” The taller one rumbled in a thick Russian accent.

“You aren’t really one to judge,” The shorter female twirled one of her black pigtails absently, flicking her lighter in her other hand. “Should we… go help him or let his body run out of fire?” She asked.

“I say vait,” Her large partner remarked as the duo moved their heads slowly to follow their subject’s non-sequitur chase pattern; the man was going in circles but they figured he wasn’t aware of anything at this point. “He’ll tire out eventually. Then we loot corpse,” He added and the girl diverted her gaze up to him.

“He’s… delirious and chasing a turkey with a pickaxe. What do you think he’d have on his person that we would want?” She asked dryly before looking back at the quickly-tiring stick figure of a man. “We’ll wait,” She agreed. “And then see if he can be of any use to us. I’ll do the speaking.” She insisted and the two played the waiting game.

__________________________

Wilson was, indeed, running on fumes and constricted energy that pulsed through his head as his cold started working against him even more so. He sputtered to a stop from chasing the turkey and doubled over, gasping for coughing breaths through his mouth and wincing from the tightness in his chest and nasal cavity. Without being fully aware that he had done so, he sank to his knees and fell onto all fours, not sure whether he was about to vomit the bile that churned in his empty stomach or cough his whole stomach up. As his vision swam, he was thinking of his last moments and how…. Inconvenient it all was. Under normal circumstances, he could handle being hungry OR he could handle having a cold. Both of them swimming in his body simultaneously was overwhelming and the scientist felt weak and useless. Succumbing with a thick sniff, he flopped onto his side and lay on the ground that was still softened from the downpour earlier. One-one, Maxwell, He thought. I’ll see you soon, I guess. His sleep-deprived eyes fluttered shut and he conveniently missed the approach of two figures from the distance…

[mariaib]

nah, don't worry about few sneezes! its better to have a nice set up for when the cold reachs its worst/best moment! oooohhh~willow and wolfgang ! i was not expecting then to appear. Are other characters going to be in it too (wendy,wes , woody,wigfrid , etc)?

[Red Ring of Death]

So I decided that *I* like it and I love writing so I'll keep working on this anyway~ Hooray, more characters! Boo, still not much sneezing but it's getting there! Also.... this one's a bit lengthy so I kinda apologise for that though not really because I just kinda lose track and let the story write itself~

______________________________________________________________

When Wilson came to with a couple of harsh coughs, he was understandably confused but shortly after jerking awake, he winced and flopped back over. His dark eyes saw the wan fire in front of him and he wondered for just a moment if he had actually died and he just stared for a few short moments. However, a voice outside his consciousness hopped in to cut that theory short.

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” The voice was feminine, light and fluttery, almost like a flute. He exhaled and craned his neck to follow the voice until his gaze fell upon the younger girl, perhaps in her early to mid-twenties, with long, thick, black pigtails, pale skin that could rival his own, large brown eyes and a heart-shaped face that held mischievous undertones. “We were worried for a second that you’d gone back to Maxwell.” That piqued Wilson’s foggy interest.

“How do you know Maxwell?” He asked though he winced at his voice, which sounded as though someone was wading through the mud just to scratch their long, yellow nails on a chalkboard.

“Jeez, you sound gross. Okay just stop talking and I’ll answer your question, okay?” Willow almost laughed though her delivery was dry enough. “I bet we know Maxwell the same way; made a stupid, split-second decision and boom, you wake up in the middle of a forest – or in his case, the shoreline—“ She pointed to the burly strongman that Wilson had failed to notice before, who gave a small wave before crossing his arms again. “—with the memory of your bad decision and forced to go on Survivor-style,” She explained with a small shrug. “I’m sure you’ve had a similar experience,” She mentioned. Wilson, not so quick to put himself up there, just gave a nod as he fished around in his vest pocket for his handkerchief; it was embarrassing enough that he managed to fall unconscious and be found by two other people in a land he thought was previously uninhabited but doubly so in such an ill state.

“We found you running around in a feverish state, chasing a turkey,” The girl continued with a hint of amusement in her tone. “And I’m gonna be honest, we looted your stuff,” She added, again, motioning to the strongman behind her. “BUT in exchange for that, we fed you – you probably don’t remember that part – and we saved you from being eaten by frogs,” She added… okay so that last part wasn’t entirely true but she figured he wouldn’t know better and just take their word for it.

Wilson was quiet for a few moments, unsure whether he was more upset at his stuff being relinquished against his will or thankful for being kept from dying. Eventually, he settled on the latter and he managed to shakily adjust so that he was sitting up though a shiver wracked through his wiry frame and he pulled his knees up to his chest in a childlike way. “Thanks,” He muttered as quietly as he could, not wanting to strain his pained vocal chords – and possibly to avoid further humiliation at his expense. Willow tilted her head with a small smile, pigtails bobbing lightly.

“No problem, er…” She paused. “What’s your name?” She asked. He considered searching his person for an artifact that could tell her for him before remembering that they had taken everything from him.

“Wilson,” He croaked. “Gentleman Scientist at yourrhhh… at yyeh…” He faltered and instinctively lifted the handkerchief to his red nose, his breath hitching as he abandoned the attempt to speak. While his eyes glazed over and fluttered to half-lidded in anticipation of the painfully stifled sneeze that was still deciding on whether or not it wanted to happen, he considered how completely ridiculous he must look and how embarrassed he was at the entire turn of events.

Hnngx’t!

The sneeze FINALLY left his nose though the itch certainly hadn’t and he rubbed at it furiously, frowning to himself.

“Wow, takes awhile, huh?” He heard Willow’s voice pierce his bitter introspection and he glanced up over his handkerchief to glare at the girl, who just shrugged again. “My momma told me that it’s not healthy to stifle ‘em,” She mentioned casually. “She said that it just makes everything worse.”

“Can we stop talking about it?” Wilson muttered thickly, already embarrassed but not feeling any better by being chided by someone he just met. Willow blinked before hopping up lightly and putting his hands behind her back in a semi-innocent fashion, her knee-length skirt swishing slightly.

“Okay, we can stop talking about it,” She agreed as his red-ringed, watery gaze followed her motion. He sniffled faintly and lowered the handkerchief slowly. “I’mma go get some supplies; we’re almost outta pickaxes and we need more gold. You know how to make a Science Machine, right?” She asked. He paused before nodding again. “Good,” She answered aloud. “You TECHNICALLY owe us for saving your life,” She said and bent over slightly to get her face closer to his. She gently reached out and patted his face with a smile that he could’ve sworn was half-insane. “You just get some rest. Maybe strike up a conversation. Vulfgang won’t hurt you,” She said his name with a poor Russian impression though she meant it lightly. “I mean… unless you try to shaft us. Then he might,” She added darkly but smiled nonetheless and straightened back up. “I’ll be back later, fellas! Don’t start any fires without me!” She said then abruptly waltzed off with a spring in her step.

Wilson watched her go and wondered what sort of delusional hell he had stumbled into, turning back to the other one… Wolfgang, his name was? He said nothing but just stared at the other, who was also silent for the first ten minutes of their alone time.

“Villow not so bad,” Wolfgang spoke for the first time since the two had seen each other and Wilson didn’t know why he was so surprised to hear such a deep voice coming from a man the size of a mountain; it was rich and brassy. “She kinda crazy but have good heart,” He said, pounding his chest as if to make a point. He reached over into a chest, pulled out a thick chunk of meat and started to eat on it, scooting a couple of pinecones onto the fire and bolstering it.

Wilson didn’t reply for a moment but his verbal coughing followed by wet sniffling, he concluded, was conversation enough.

“You sound bad,” Wolfgang stated. “You getting caught in rain yesterday?” He asked and Wilson just furrowed his brow; normally, he was a generally approachable guy, if a bit eccentric. However, looking like an unfinished paint-by-number and feeling as though he got hit by a truck, he wasn’t entirely in the mood for small talk, especially if the topic was his stupid immune system. Wolfgang, surprisingly, caught on pretty fast and leaned back, taking another large bite of the morsel. “Fine, don’t tell me. You think you’re smarter than me,” He licked the juice from his lips and leaned against one of his legs.

“That’s not it,” Wilson rasped, sniffing again though he knew that wasn’t assuaging the itch that constantly creeped up and down the bridge of his nose. “Thanks again for… saving me,” He avoided the accusation and got slightly more comfortable as he sat next to the fire, which was warm and inviting on his clammy skin.

“Not problem,” Wolfgang replied in his growling voice. “I’m not so smart. Would’ve let you die then loot you,” He admitted and Wilson just looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and perhaps a dab of primal horror.

“…Thanks, that’s…” Wilson trailed off and Wolfgang, in a motion of mocking the man, pretended to look down at a wristwatch. Sure enough, Wilson’s breath grew unsteady and formed into a series of hitches and pauses but he was determined to finish his stupid three-word-sentence. “Hhh…heh.. snf!… helpful,” He managed before his nose overruled his logic, body jackknifing as he pitched forward into his familiarly lifted handkerchief.

Hhngcx’ts!

Willow was right, stifling was just making the itch more severe and he had barely finished that sneeze when he felt another preparing itself. As his already-unsteady breath worsened with hitch upon torturous inhale, Wolfgang chuckled, knowing that the scientist wasn’t entirely paying attention to him.

“будь здоров,” He spoke in his native tongue and it was the most fluid thing he had said so far, much… prettier than his semi-broken English. “That took little under minute,” He said mildly, looking up from his imaginary watch. “Everything you do deliberately slow?” He joked. Wilson would’ve given Wolfgang a look but he was still very much distracted with the feeling of mosquito bites inside his nasal cavity and the light from the fire caught the trail of a tear that had separated from Wilson’s eye.

Nnngt’sh!

The effort to stifle was still a noble one but he could feel the urge slowly falling as he steadily cared a little less and less.

“будь здоров,” Wolfgang repeated as Wilson sniffled thickly, not clearing any of the congestion at all, just making him sound more pitiful. He coughed once or twice, a rattling, grating sound that was like a brick to a chain link fence.

“I don’t know what that means,” Wilson attempted to clear his throat to no avail, followed by gulping to see if he could swallow the lump just behind his uvula. He huddled into himself as though it wasn’t mid-day and the fire wasn’t there, a shiver coursing through his lithe frame.

“It means, how you say… “be healthy”,” Wolfgang explained. Wilson quirked an eyebrow; was this guy messing with him? “It nice gesture, just shut up and take at face value,” Wolfgang concluded with a hearty laugh, noting Wilson’s expression and the latter huffed tiredly, returning to rubbing at his ever-flushing nose, his eyes narrowed with an underlying concentration; he was frustrated that he was brought down to little more than a being, barely existing, not unwell enough to expand into an actual flu but he knew (though he’d never tell anyone) that he was still in the early stages of the mess he’d no doubt become in the near future. Wilson NEVER sneezed more than once at a given time and the fact that he sneezed thrice in the past thirty minutes was a big red sign. He also hated to admit it, being the usually self-resourceful man that he was, but he rather found some aspect of solace in Wolfgang’s company, especially the unabashed nature of the large man.

It was almost sundown when Willow returned, pulling a straw backpack off her back and slinging it to the ground next to Wolfgang. Wilson had trusted Wolfgang enough to slip back into an unsteady sleep, snoring rather loudly from the congestion in his nose and he was curled in a small ball which was hindering his breathing.

“How was he?” Willow asked quietly to Wolfgang though she knew Wilson was probably out like a light.

“Grumpy,” Wolfgang replied simply, eating another morsel; the guy had been steadily chugging food all day. “Bad cold. Sound like someone put melted ice cream in nose,” He joked and Willow crossed her arms, looking down at the scientist.

“You have generally good intuition about that sort of thing, given your…. Obsessive eating,” She mentioned. “How long do you think it’ll last?” She asked, sort of hoping that his case was something akin to three or so days; then again, she couldn’t remember the last time she got sick so her concept of time with such issues was skewed, at best. Wolfgang contemplated then half-nodded, clicking his tongue.

“Prob’ly week at least,” He said. “May hurt nose if keep holding back sneeze,” He added. “I go out tomorrow, you maybe talk to him, ja?” He asked gruffly. Willow scoffed.

“Or we could just kick him out. This sets us back, having to take care of him,” Willow said and she wasn’t wrong; when both of them were covering ground, it WAS much more time effective though their sessions were always brought to a halt in the evenings given Wolfgang’s dormant fear of monsters.

“You’ll kick out sick man we bother saving?” Wolfgang laughed as quietly as his normally-rich voice would allow. “I wanted to wait ‘til he dead and now you guilt me?” She hadn’t considered it like that and she twirled one of her pigtails in thought.

“I’m sorry, I just… didn’t think he’d be outta fire for that long at least,” She said quietly. “But you’re right. I mean, we’re doing fine, right?” She asked as she looked through their materials and tools.

Wolfgang nodded reassuringly. “Yes, tomorrow I go get beefalo,” He said. “Bring back lots,”

“And I’ll stay with sickie down here,” She said, looking back down at the shivering man, making a futile endeavour to sniff now and again which was only met with harsh coughing; he wasn’t gonna get a good night’s sleep but there wasn’t much they could do about it. “Fine. Tomorrow we’ll do that,” She said then sat down next to Wolfgang, flicking her lighter and staring at the sparks it produced.

“It’s three against one, Maxwell. You’ll see,” She whispered to the fire.

[mariaib]

amazing, has always! i can't wait for the next one , also i love the personality you gave to wolfgang and willow , it just fits them perfectly!

[Red Ring of Death]

A/N: Okay so... this part broke five pages. But I just feel like splitting it in half just makes it longer and ruins the immersion, somewhat? Either way, here's Part 4

_________________________________________________________

Wilson had a… fitful sleep, to say in the least; between being on the hard ground, feeling in a stage of apnea from not being able to catch his breath and constantly subconsciously rubbing at his irritated nose, by the time he woke up, he felt as though he had just attempted to sleep. He yawned with a snort and sorely stretched, the joints creaking from remaining static for so long. He reached up to tenderly scratch at his incessantly itching nose, which was probably a fine shade of scarlet at this point, a colour matched by his ears and a much more subtle shade of carnation pink on the cheeks of his otherwise rather ghastly pale face. The dark circles around his eyes were more pronounced than ever, now dashed with red rings where his lashes rested and the corners of his usually-white-now-dabbed-pink sclera were watering ever-so-slightly as his body struggled to keep his eyes moist.

“Hey-hey, you rise from the ashes of last night,” He heard the familiar voice and he clutched his head, turning and finding Willow in the spot where Wolfgang had rested the day before. He gave her a groggy look that was a mixture of half-asleep and already miserable from what he was feeling and he made his pain evident by giving a single cough that could roughly be described as hailstones denting a tin roof. “Well…. Mostly risen,” Willow said lightly.

It was daytime now. Wilson wasn’t sure how long he was asleep, only that it wasn’t nearly long enough. He instinctively reached into his vest pocket for his veritable companion cube that was his handkerchief…. And it wasn’t there. He looked down mildly and then the realization sunk and he grew much more aware, waking up quickly—too quickly, he winced as a sinus headache pulsed through his temporal lobe.

“Where’s my… handkerchief?” He asked, his voice a snapping tree after being struck by lightning. Willow grimaced at how hearing his voice even made her own throat hurt but recovered quickly and just crossed her legs.

“That ratty old thing?” She mused. “Wolfgang took it with him on his hunt, told me it needed to be washed. I don’t use those so I’m not entirely sure what the point of them is. Don’t they just get dirty? Like… how often do you use ‘em before deciding that they should be washed? That’s just gross to me,” She said but he was busy trying to breathe steadily in lieu of his missing item. His eyes danced wildly and his reality seemed to come crashing down on him.

“Er…. You okay?” Willow had noted the erratic breathing and Wilson covered the lower half of his face with his hand in the handkerchief’s absence.

“No, I’m NOT,” He croaked with a vivacious intensity. “I NEED that! How can I be a gentleman if I can’t even clean up after my messes?” He asked as if there was no answer to be had and for a moment, he truly believed that he would pass out. He tried so hard to be a good gentleman scientist and suddenly he ends up in relative captivity from two heathens who steal all his stuff AND his coveted handkerchief!

“Calm down, Wilson,” Willow soothed in her airy voice. “It’s not lost forever,” She sounded gentler this time; indeed, she felt she would’ve reacted similarly if someone had taken her lighter. “Wolfgang’s taken a shine to you; he won’t let anything happen to your precious rag,” She tried to sound comforting without diverting from her usual antics and figured that that was as close as she was gonna get. “Plus, we were talking about some things last night and maybe this’ll be good practise.”

He had calmed down slightly, if only because he was having trouble getting enough air and he had to stop to catch his breath. Hands still covering his face, he glared over at the younger girl. “Practise for what,” He dared to ask flatly. Usually he was more than open to the idea of experimentation but after this little stunt, he wasn’t in the mood.

Willow played with one of her pigtails. “You’ve gotta stop stifling,” She said simply. “That’s not good for you.” Wilson rolled his eyes and looked back to the pile of ashes that marked their old fire.

“I don’t know why you two care,” he grumbled, starting to reach that point where he really WANTED to itch at his nose but he almost COULDN’T because of how unsanitary it was.

Willow rolled her own eyes and looked at him boredly. “The longer you’re out of commission, the more useless you are to us,” She batted her eyelashes and he furrowed his brow slightly, perceiving that as a threat. However, his body had woken up, catching up with him and he gasped quietly, his attention drawing instead to quelling the sudden spike in his nose. Ignoring his gentlemanly urges, his primal need won out and he covered his nose in steepled hands as the insatiable hitching began.

“The city of Rome wasn’t built in a day,” She muttered to herself, leaning back and crossing her arms. “It’s like watching a roller coaster,” She added and took out her lighter absently, opting to focus on it instead. As far as what little Wilson could comprehend, this was fine; just because he had resigned himself to this temporary fate didn’t mean it was any less embarrassing for him to feel this way in front of anyone else.

Hheh… snf—hih… h-hheh…. This one was being particularly stubborn though subconsciously, he knew that pinching his nose shut wasn’t helping matters. So here he was, in hitching limbo with the torment of a sneeze teasing the edges of his red nostrils and all he could do was wait.

After this went on for no less than a minute and a half, Willow frowned to herself and looked over at the man, who was still struggling to wait for this sneeze to stop screwing around with him. Tears had streamed down his face in the meantime and she could tell that he was trying really hard to stop from looking even remotely foolish though she couldn’t fathom why. Maybe it was a pride thing. “Hey Wilson,” She said mildly, hoping to attract what little attention he had for his surroundings.

Initially, he resisted but his underlying respectfulness overruled what little pride he had left at this point and he, still clasping a hand over his nose, turned his head slowly and for a moment, Willow had seen the face of true misery from the tearstains to his unkempt black hair, to his raw-coloured face and to his knitted brow. “Wh—what?” he asked, his voice shaky though he only barely choked out the word; the prickling itch was unbearable and he was starting to feel light-headed just by the hitching alone.

She watched closely for an opening and waited until the split second for him to remove his hand from pinching his nose shut and when she found it, she took the opportunity swiftly, reaching out and aggressively flicking the tip of his nose. The motion was fast and she had successfully scooted back out of range for some bizarre worry that he’d strangle her for touching him but instead, the result was what she was hoping. The contact alone was enough but she had done so with a level of intensity and Wilson completely lost control, going from surprised to angry and then just succumbing to the intense fit that had been set up and neatly wrapped with a bow, just waiting for someone to come along and open it.

Hhngx’t! Hheh… hinxgh’t! Nguh… heh-hh-huh… Hhgxh’tch! Snf—Heh… hh hgg’tch! Hh snf- Hhuhh’tshh’-CSHHu! Cough cough—H-heh hk’tshh! Hhuh—hih… h hhnck’tshh’-TCHH! Hh-h--

Even then, in the midst of the fit, he still struggled with hitching in between almost every sneeze so it didn’t qualify as “rapid”. Willow had since cleared her throat nervously and turned away, examining her lighter; she felt kinda bad for this, for HIM. She only wanted to get it out of the way, she hadn’t intended on debilitating the poor man who was, at this point, on all fours as each sneeze convulsed his body. At least he had stopped stifling, if only because they were so intense (at least by his standards) that he didn’t dare move and make things worse for himself.

This continued for… five, maybe six minutes; Willow hadn’t been keeping track of the time, she was just avoiding looking at him as if someone would just approach the two and ask “oh my God what’d you do to him?” When it finally seemed like he was reaching the tail end of the fit, he was exhausted and light-headed and gasping for breath as if he’d just survived a drowning. He avoided eye contact with Willow as religiously as she was with him. Good. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like vomiting from sneezing so much but he just blinked slowly, eyes watering, nose running, mildly drooling…

Willow bit her lower lip and played with her pigtail, turning her head slightly but not enough to look at him “Sssssorry ‘bout that,” She apologized with a hiss through her teeth. Wilson didn’t respond; he was disoriented and felt as though his head was swimming in murky swamp water and now that the sneezes had subsided, he was putting forth almost every subconscious effort he could to keep it that way. Willow was… somewhat worried, not because of Wilson but because of what Wolfgang might say if he returned to find him in such a state. The thought made her grow steadily more nervous and she saw a spark out of the corner of her eye; in the far distance, a tree spontaneously combusted.

She turned sharply, examining the subconscious damage… thank god it was isolated and she found herself exhaling with relief; loved fire though she might, she was immensely thankful that she hadn’t started a forest fire, if only because she knew they had a lot of stuff in one place and it would be devastating if they lost it the ONE day Willow was told to watch someone. She turned her false attention back to Wilson who, she noticed, had managed to sit back and was now just snuffling and snorting with sparse coughs between the wet gurgles. He still looked tiredly at the fire, a good focal point for his spinning mind.

The two said nothing for a period and the sun appeared to just be starting to set when Willow turned to see Wolfgang coming over a hill. She hurriedly glanced back over at Wilson, who had managed to quiet himself though he still rasped as he breathed, a fine film of perspiration shining on his forehead. She hoped the latter wouldn’t say anything of today’s events as she looked back at Wolfgang… and a silhouette that followed behind.

Willow frowned immediately. It appeared to be a girl and Willow felt defensive; SHE was a female. What was he bringing someone ELSE along for? Also they really couldn’t afford to have another person on board if she was debilitated (even if temporarily). She crossed her arms, one of her hands absently playing with her lighter as she waited for the new duo to arrive.

As soon as the four of them were in close enough proximity, Willow just sucked on her teeth and gave Wolfgang a look. Wolfgang understandably nodded and motioned to the girl he brought. “This Wendy,” He introduced and the latter gave a small curtsy, her thick blond pigtails bobbing lightly. Willow wasn’t impressed.

“She’s just a kid, Wolfy,” Willow furrowed his brow. “You’re gonna hafta convince me why we should keep her around.” She demanded matter-of-factly.

“She has no fear,” Wolfgang answered, going over to the pitiful man on the ground who had since glanced over at the duo absently, tiredly; he was exhausted but didn’t dare try to fall asleep without ANYONE else around to make sure Willow didn’t try to ruin his life further. The larger man extended his arm down, offering a fresh, clean handkerchief to Wilson, who gave Wolfgang a piteous look before taking it gently.

“Thank you, sir,” He strained barely above a throaty whisper and almost cradled the thing, curling up on the ground and pushing some kindling to the fire to keep it alive as the sky darkened.

Willow, eager to look at everything BUT Wilson, uncrossed her arms and rubbed the nape of her neck, looking at Wendy. “No fear, huh?” She repeated. “What does that mean, exactly?” She inquired; that wasn’t necessarily a good trait to have though that’d make her more ideal for partnering with Wolfgang if things got hairy… which they better not because she wasn’t about to be replaced with some chick who just showed up.

Wendy paused for a moment and gave a faraway look to a seemingly empty patch of air near them. “The dark is comforting,” She finally spoke, her voice distant and wispy. “Monsters aren’t scary, either. Everyone dies eventually,” She said and as she did, she glanced down at Wilson, who already looked much better since being reunited with his precious handkerchief… though still remarkably pale with red-rimmed eyes and nostrils.

Though she wasn’t exactly pleased, Willow tilted her head slightly and looked down at the other girl. “. . . Fine. Tomorrow, Wolfgang and I will go out. You’ll stay here and watch Wilson, okay?” He said; it was less of an affirmation and more of a command. “He won’t hurt you, he’s a “gentleman”,” She made finger quotes and rolled her eyes though she still remembered earlier. Perhaps she’d tell Wolfgang about it tomorrow… Wendy nodded in agreement, not saying another word but just gazing down at the sick man with her pale blue eyes.

“Greeeeat, at least there’s FOUR of us now,” Willow didn’t attempt to hide her evident displeasure at the situation though Wendy didn’t seem to mind. “Anymore and we can just… throw a little party. Balloons and all that crap.” She crossed her arms and shot a look over at Wolfgang, who was unloading loads and loads of beefalo supplies. He gave her a guilty shrug.

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

Ok so i don't know much of anything about this game but i'm really enjoying this story so far! I hope you share more of it soon

[mariaib]

yeah~wendy is on board~ you want ballons willow ? who knows , maybe wes will appear XD has always i still love this fanfic ~ i'll be stalking

[Red Ring of Death]

This part was gonna be a lot shorter but for some reason I'm just really bad at short things for now so I'll keep them longer. I mean, not that a whole lot of people read this anyway but as I said before, *I* like it so I'm gonna keep doing it. It's not hurting anyone (is it?)

_______________________________

It was the time of night where the light was nowhere to be found and Wilson was exhausted. Everything seemed greyscale as he shivered to himself, keeping from jumping headfirst into the warm bonfire that blazed in front of him, begging that he just be engulfed in warmth. He hadn’t been able to sleep that night though given the events of the day prior, he’d have loved nothing more than to just lose himself to REM.

Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t the only one awake this dark night as Wolfgang very suddenly plopped down next to Wilson. Suffice to say, the other man jumped and turned his head sharply.

“Sorry, I scare scientist?” Wolfgang asked quietly as Willow and Wendy slept rather peacefully behind them.

“No,” Wilson replied, barely audible through the cracking in his voice. Wolfgang half-chuckled and gently put a large hand on the other man’s back; Wilson flinched slightly though that wasn’t for long and he resigned, sniffling as thickly as he had been for the past three days. Wolfgang could feel the shudder in Wilson’s frame though the latter tried to keep it as subdued as possible.

“Why you are not asleep?” The strongman asked and it seemed like he was trying to focus on something, as if distracting himself. Wilson was quiet for a long moment – well, as quiet as he could be while still making small, involuntary sounds as he breathed.

“I, um…” His pride was still just a bit too high to tell Wolfgang about what happened that day. “Just… can’t breathe,” He remarked not untruthfully; his face felt like it was full of half-dry cement and there was a pain AND an itch settled up in his sinuses near his eyes. Wolfgang raised his eyebrows and bobbed his head considerably.

“You get along with Villow okay?” He asked, remembering that Wilson didn’t like to talk about what ailed him but that subject didn’t ease the tension in the scientist’s shoulders.

“It’s… hard to explain,” Wilson replied quietly; he didn’t know about he but he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit what happened and how repulsively embarrassing it was even though it was just the two of them. He tried to change the subject again. “Who’s that?” He asked, nodding weakly in Wendy’s direction. “I mean, Wendy, right?” He had to be honest, he was only half paying attention to the previous conversation; he knew her name and that she had “campfire duty” - what he called it to avoid “babysitting his sick butt”.

Wolfgang gave a small shrug. “I find her near water,” He explained. “Sitting on ground looking sad. I thought she was tearing up flowers, ask her what she’s doing. She said “making flower crown”,” His voice raised in pitch to imitate the girl and it was so outlandish and unexpected that Wilson snorted, covering his mouth hastily to conceal a grin that had finally made its way to his gaunt face. Wolfgang paused for effect; so the scientist DID have a sense of humour. “I ask what for and she put it on my head,” He continued, motioning as he told the story. “Instantly I start feeling better and fuzzy like hundreds of little kittens crawling on my stomach,” He softened as he spoke and Wilson regarded the strongman’s face with a hint of surprise; he wasn’t expecting the large man to be such a softie, especially given that his first instinct for Wilson was to let him die.

“Anyway, I tell her we have group going on and she tell me she have time to kill between summoning her sister,” Wolfgang concluded and Wilson furrowed his brow, attempting to clear his throat again (to no avail as the phlegm was still firmly attached to his esophagus).

“Um… what was that last part?” He asked for clarification; perhaps the other man simply meant summon as “write a letter to”?

Wolfgang tilted his head at the scientist. “That’s all she told me, that she had time to summon sister,” He said. “She staying here with you tomorrow, perhaps you ask her,” He suggested, yawning with a hearty stretch. As he did, Wilson considered the possibility that he’d have to engage in some form of conversation with the creepy blond girl SOMETIME so it might as well be tomorrow though even now, the thought made him shiver further and he sniffled thickly; he found a brief moment of respite as Wolfgang regaled the meeting story but the weight of having to be a gentleman to another new person reminded him of how terrible he felt. That, in turn, reminded him of something else, though.

“Why are you awake?” He asked at long last – he was aware he probably should’ve asked that much sooner but it hadn’t crossed his mind. Wolfgang looked down at the smaller man, eyes narrowed and he spent a long moment contemplating before releasing a heavy sigh.

“Between you and me… and I think Villow knows too,” He whispered and Wilson, the feeling of cotton lodged in his ear canals ever present, had to scoot a little closer to hear the man. “Vulfgang scared of the dark,” He admitted. “And the monsters that prowl around in the same dark,” He answered and Wilson could almost see the hair on Wolfgang’s arms stand up with the feeling that they were suddenly being watched. Though he figured it must’ve been psychosomatic, Wilson slowly looked over his shoulder and his watery gaze was met with pitch black. In light of everything that happened over the course of a few days, Wilson completely forgot that there were times where nothing seemed to penetrate the darkness, where if one wandered aimlessly through the suffocating blackness, they could feel something brush against their arm or curl around their ankle. “Don’t tell anyone though,” Wolfgangs rich voice cut through Wilson’s mindset and the latter glanced away from the unknown and up into the strongman’s eyes.

“I won’t,” Wilson promised his… dare he think of it but he promised his friend that night that he wouldn’t tell a soul. Wolfgang gave a warm smile and pat Wilson on the back again, with a little more aware tenderness. “What do you do whe-hhn—“ Darn it, he thought maybe he could have an illness-ridden conversation WITHOUT this becoming an issue. To be fair, they got a lot farther than he thought though it still bugged him to no end that sentences seemed like a good place for the talking to end and the sinus itching to act up. “When y-hh… you…” He was gonna finish this sentence or die trying. “Whenyoucan’tsleep—“

Hhnng’xt!

He barely managed to spit out the rest of the sentence before basically clocking himself in the nose to cover his face with his handkerchief. He sighed and caught his breath, leaning back slightly with his eyes closed.

“Still holding back,” He heard Wolfgang say and Wilson knitted his eyebrows in frustration.

“Is this gonna be a recurring thing? This is, like, the fifth time you guys have brought it up," He growled through half-gritted teeth; they would’ve been clamped but he still had to breathe out of his mouth. He opened his eyes and glared over at Wolfgang, who looked rather unperturbed, himself. The large man simply stared back and nodded faintly.

“I knew man once,” He started and Wilson groaned quietly. “Stay with me,” Wolfgang assured. “I knew man once who always held back sneeze. In long run, hurt his nose,” He explained. “Damage, lost sense of smell,” He said and nodded wisely. Wilson was a little less enlightened.

“Right now that doesn’t sound so bad,” He said though even as he spoke, his words were thick with congestion; he really was a downer when he was sick. Wolfgang chuckled.

“Tomorrow, ask Wendy for flower crown. Might help bitter mood, ja?” He asked rhetorically and he patted Wilson on the back one last time. “Keep trying. Don’t make Vulfgang take away rag again,” He joked though Wilson, finding it slightly less humorous, just gave the strongman a look. “…It was joke,” Wolfgang said dryly. “Anyway, get sleep. Tomorrow you break ice with cute Wendy girl,” He joked again and Wilson sighed this time.

“You’re the worst,” He said though not without his own dryness and he slumped down from leaning against the familiar log. “…Thanks, Wolfgang,” He said quietly after a long pause though his eyes were now closed and he wasn’t even sure if Wolfgang was around anymore.

“No problem, little scientist,” Wilson heard the reply after an equally long pause and he smiled to himself, curling up with his legs against his chest and he watched the fire dance before him, slowly lulling him into another strained sleep with its promise of warmth and vitality.

[mariaib]

i squeaked when i saw this XD i'm glad you are continuing this fic! can't wait for more!

[Red Ring of Death]

I had to cut this one off to avoid writing a novel [[ I just love writing SO MUCH OKAY ]] so here's Part 6!

____________________________________________________

The air was… awkward. Wendy, Wilson quickly deduced, was something of an attentive person and she stared him down, giving him the uneasy feeling of being scrutinized. This would’ve been an uncomfortable silence but don’t worry, it was VERY uncomfortable because of the LACK of silence – Wilson was feeling nearer to the peak of this balking cold and it was evident in the amount of white noise he was making, whether it was trying to drain his system of phlegm or coughing or sniffling grossly. Wendy simply continued to watch him though the more she did, the more awkward Wilson felt and it hadn’t even been an hour yet since Willow and Wolfgang’s departure.

“So, er…” Wilson started uneasily, his throat crackling like dry leaves across the uneven pavement on a brisk autumn day. This was weird. He felt weird; he was, like, 32 and this girl was MAYBE 17.

“Wolfgang told me about you,” She replied vaguely, a wispy tone in her soft voice. ‘That cleared the air’, thought no one ever. Wilson’s eyebrow twitched slightly.

“What did he say?” He couldn’t help but ask though part of him didn’t want to know what sort of horror stories Wolfgang told her about him at all. Curiosity killed the… scientist. She tilted her head in contemplation, standing and fluttering over to a chest absently. She popped the thing open and glanced around at the contents though Wilson couldn’t see what they were and instead kept his dark eyes on the girl.

“He told me that you’re a scientist,” She answered simply, closing the chest and putting her hands behind her back in a demure fashion. Anything else…? “We’re out of flowers,” She added. Evidently not, or at least, not that she was willing to share. “They’re all dead. We need more,” She explained... if it could be called that. “We need more flowers or you’ll die,” She said just as he was wondering what she’d need flowers for. A look of surprise made it across his flushed, red, pale, sunken face.

“Say what, now?” He blinked mildly. Yes, he was sick, but that’s all it was – just a cold (albeit a really bad one), not even something as terrorizing as the flu or pneumonia. She faced his direction but it appeared as though she was looking past him and he glanced over his shoulder to share its attention. All that lay behind him was a handful of dead cedar trees, shriveled skeletons of their former selves; they appeared as ashen corpses after someone set them ablaze. If Wilson bothered squinting further, the blackened branches looked like hands. Wiry hands that groped for him, scratched the inside of his brain… He frowned and licked his dry lips, instinctively scooting away from the trees and turned just to find Wendy suddenly very near him, leaning forward, face maybe a foot from his. “Gah!” He exclaimed and scooted back, turning just in time to catch a poorly-timed coughing fit brought on from the sudden intake of fresh morning air.

As the fit happened, Wendy didn’t falter but remained very still and almost serene. However, she finally faintly glanced away as if observing something different, now. She was patient, waiting until Wilson calmed down before speaking again though she also saw that he would’ve been really embarrassed if this was the first time something stupid like that happened in front of someone else. Duly noted. “Come with me,” She said just above an airy whisper. Wilson, drying his watering eyes, frowned and looked at her sideways. “Come with me,” She repeated, straightening up and continuing to peer down at him with her intense blue eyes. “You need to move; the shadows will reach you if you don’t move,” She explained and pointed over his shoulder, which he wasn’t stupid enough to fall for a second time. Must’ve been psychosomatic then because he swore he could feel a long, sharp fingernail run right through his clothes, up his spine and he shivered.

Perhaps against his better judgement, he did stand. It was a slow and meticulous movement; he didn’t think he stood at all in the past few days. His body hurt as if he spent years in an egg and his bones strained as they stretched from the curled position he had been in. He grunted as he adjusted, Wendy watching the whole time; he was a good foot taller than her at least but after the initial pain, Wilson realized that it was probably a good idea to stand so his muscles wouldn’t start to atrophy. “Okay. Okay, you got me up,” he said before suddenly getting the feeling that he emulated his dad just then. Wendy tilted her head slightly, blond pigtails swaying gently; they didn’t carry the weight or shape that Willow’s did, instead seeming loose and flowing by comparison. “…Now what?” He asked blankly, rubbing his upper arms as a shiver shook his torso. She turned and pointed to the landscape before them.

“We need to go pick flowers,” She replied and started to walk forward, pausing and motioning for him to follow. “Separate their lives from the earth,” She murmured, inciting a small frown from Wilson, who had indeed started to follow her, though not without sniffing heavily and thickly.

“Kinda big on death, aren’t you?” He asked as the two slowly distanced themselves from the familiar camp.

“Everyone dies,” Wendy replied, stopping here and there to pick the flowers that sparsely dotted the ground. “Not everyone dies the same,” She continued in her wistful tone. “But everything dies. Sometimes in the dark, by yourself. Sometimes in the sun under the birds that circle your body,” He rubbed his nose as she spoke and his expression softened slightly as she spoke; maybe she wasn’t so bad… There was no harm in realizing that everything had an expiration date. “And sometimes you have to kill.” Whoa whoa whoa where’d THAT come from?? The frown was back, maybe with a hint of worry this time. “That’s why I brought you with me,” She admitted though with the same delivery as everything else.

Wilson rightfully got very concerned very fast, a couple of hacking coughs aside. “Come again?” He asked. Was this young girl about to murder him? Oh god, was it all part of Willow and Wolfgang’s plan all along? He hadn’t made himself useful so they brought in a hitman… hitwoman to murder him in the woods with no one around! He hugged himself tighter in an embrace that tried to be comforting.

“Sometimes you have to kill,” She repeated, reaching into her inventory and pulling out a handful of seeds that she sprinkled on the ground. “Wolfgang does it. Willow does it. They tell me you tried,” Wilson’s shoulders drooped; so they told her about how they met. How nice of them. “Sometimes a life must go before another can walk,” As she spoke, she set a rich, scarlet flower on the grass where it began to levitate eerily, bobbing up and down inches above the ground. Wendy withdrew an archaic weapon that appeared not unlike a dart blowgun used by native groups but kept it lowered, turning once more to face Wilson, who simply watched with a mingled expression of curiosity and bafflement. “I want you to watch,” She explained. “So Willow and Wolfgang won’t kick me out of the group – I know what I’m doing,” She remained calm though her tone seemed slightly different to Wilson, though maybe that was just relief from finding out that he wasn’t gonna be the one getting killed.

He knew of doing extreme things in the name of science; that was why he was in this mess in the first place so he understood her want of a witness. The two were quiet for a moment as Wendy took the pause to sit on the ground carefully, starting to weave the flowers together with grace though she stared at the seeds as she did so, ready for one of the animals to show up any moment. Wilson remained a short distance behind her, still standing there awkwardly as he sniffled now and then though he’d be damned if he didn’t turn his head sharply as if someone were calling for him by yelling in his ear. It made him twitchy and he found himself inching closer and closer to Wendy… or maybe just farther and farther away from the whispering that had started to take up residence in his mind. Great. As if getting sick weren’t enough.

“Where’d you get the blow dart?” He asked absently, trying to cut through the uncomfortable silence though that wasn’t encouraging given that his voice sounded like frogs trying to sing.

“I found it,” She answered absently, still staring at the seeds as she wove the flowers into braids. “There was a skeleton. He didn’t need it anymore.” Wilson blinked.

“…Oh” was all he could think of to reply with when their target finally arrived; a slender black bird landed tenderly and started pecking at the seeds. Wendy casually reached for the blow gun and drew in a deep breath before spitting a dart right at the bird. A brief squawk of surprise and pain but it didn’t matter. The bird keeled over and as it did, there was a burst of light as the flower seemed to explode in a cloud of white that quickly took an ambiguous form – a ghost.

At least… WAS it a ghost? It all happened so fast and Wilson wasn’t sure if this was just him completely losing his mind. He just blinked as if it would disappear one of those times. “Wilson,” Wendy’s voice cut through his reverie and he shook his head, casting an incredulous look down at the girl. “This is… my sister Abigail,” She introduced, motioning to the ghost who now floated around with a curious air about it, blank white eyes milky with ethereal quality. Wilson coughed but he wasn’t sure if it was the strain in his chest or for lack of anything better to say. This was it. He was insane. He sunk to his knees and just stared forward, past the ghost, past the horizon, past the groping shadows.

There was a soft motion and a feeling as if someone lightly dusted powdered sugar on his head and for a moment, he flinched; after Wolfgang’s well-meaning but hard back pats and that entire incident with Willow, Wilson was understandably just a bit twitchy. However, no pain came. Not even a little bit of discomfort; on the contrary, it was… calming. He opened his eyes slowly and reached up, thin fingers feeling flower petals and leaves. It was strange but he actually gave a small smile. “Okay,” He sighed, some of the underlying stress starting to melt away. “I watched your ritual. Should we… go back now?” He asked. “Is she… safe?” He asked, motioning to the ghost called Abigail.

“Oh!” Wendy said with the most emotion she’s shown since the two met. “Abigail, come say hello~” She suggested and the ghost turned, responding when her name was called. She floated over to the duo but as she did, the air surrounding them suddenly seemed to drop in temperature and the drastic change brought a new, intense itch to Wilson’s downturned nose and he barely had time to cover his mouth.

Hh’kcshhh! Hhh… ‘Cshhuh!

They caught him off-guard and left a fierce irritation in his sinuses. He took a few steps back and looked from Wendy to Abigail, hands still clasped over his nose. Wendy said nothing but exchanged glances with her ghostly sister. There was a long moment of silence involving awkward looking at each other in brief puzzlement between the three though it was slightly more defensive on Wilson’s side. Silently, Wendy motioned for Abigail to scoot back. The ghost complied, tendrils of white following her in a faint trail. The air went from cold and still back to the warm summer it had been and Wilson relaxed his shoulders slightly, quirking an eyebrow; what were they doing? There was a pause and Wendy beckoned for the ghost. She obeyed, the air spiked down again and a shiver was released from Wilson before he tensed up again.

H’csh! Hh’ksch-CSHhh! Huhhh h’ktchh!

It felt weird after feeling terrible; the itch was still there but they weren’t tortuous buildups like they usually were. Didn’t mean Wilson liked it though and he took a couple more steps back. “Okay, okay, that was an interesting experiment,” He said, only half-lying; the scientist part of him was intrigued about the reaction but the rest of him (sick part included) wanted that to never happen again. “So, er… new plan,” He said. “We’ll go back to camp; the three of us,” He assured. “I’ll walk like three feet ahead of… her,” He nodded to the ghost who had stayed put. “As long as it stays that way,” He tried to make himself clear, congested as his voice was turning. “Sound like a good plan?” He asked rhetorically, looking at the two girls and rubbing his nose absently. Wendy nodded and looked over at Abigail expectantly, who just stared. “…Good. Okay, go team,” He cleared his throat and turned to lead the way back to the encampment.

He didn’t get very far when he suddenly stopped again, eyebrows knitting together as the cold feeling returned and he hunched forward slightly to sneeze once, twice… four times in the same vein as earlier. He sniffed miserably and turned to look at the two girls over his shoulder. They were the obligatory three feet behind him and Wendy casually waved to him. He frowned and shook his head, rolling his eyes and starting to move again when it HAPPENED again: they got about ten or twenty feet when the temperature dropped and he tried not to stop but he almost tripped so he had to stop so he could release another small stream of tired, itchy sneezes. He sighed and the laughter of a young girl echoed in his ears as if coming from the other side of a long cave. He didn’t even bother looking behind himself this time, just pausing before starting to walk again with the same reaction as before about fifteen steps forward. It was then that Wilson realized what was going on and he groaned after the third time, holding his face in his hands in exasperation.

This process, due to the many stops, took the trio about thirty minutes longer than it should’ve; the sun was starting to set and by the end of their journey, as they approached the now-dead fire and multiple chests, Wilson looked and felt like a mess; between the frayed hair, stuffed up face and exhausted expression, he’d be surprised if he didn’t look more dead than the ghost that was now part of the team. He groaned softly to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to stop the itch that decided ‘eh, he’s sick anyway, might as well stay’. Wilson’s body hurt both in general and from bending over to sneeze; by Maxwell’s cruel mercy, can he just die NOW? He put a hand on his abdomen lightly, remembering that he should probably eat something – he hadn’t done so in a few days now. He dug around in one of the chests, fishing out a morsel and a handful of berries. He was in the “ignoring” stage of the two girls now though he was a little relieved that Wendy seemed a little more full of life than previously – he chalked the positivity up to the flower crown he still adorned.

“Thank you for coming with me, Wilson,” He heard Wendy through his thoughts and he gave her a half-lidded gaze that seemed to be a mixture of tiredness and nonchalance. “I apologise for Abigail; she’s the troublemaker,” She added and Wilson looked over at the ghost who seemed just as monotone and staring as ever. He didn’t know how the ghost emoted; maybe it was a sibling bond thing. He wouldn’t know; he never had any siblings.

“Yeah. No problem,” He sniffed with a cough afterwards. He rubbed his nose again and refocused on building another fire before the other duo returned. At least the whispers seemed to have subsided which means maybe his underlying fever was also starting to go away...?

Edited January 29, 2016 by Red Ring of Death

[Hissybella]

oh my god i love this so much

keep writing, writing for yourself and sharing it with others is the best reason to write

[IcyFlame]

I am not even in this /fandom/ and I can tell this is quality. The descriptions are beautiful and based off what I've recently been researching (mainly because of this), you pretty much nailed the characterization. All in all, this is exceptionally cute, and please please /please/ continue!

[Red Ring of Death]

I wanted to start with a huge thank-you to the positive feedback; it means a lot to me when people read these without even being in the fandom~ So I thank everybody for the feedback!

I hope this part makes sense; I usually start these one 4am then go back and keep working on them 'til I reach a stopping point. If I look back and it just doesn't make enough sense or flow well enough, I'll edit it :B

Part 7

_________________________________________

The trio wasn’t there for very long until the sun’s departure forced Willow and Wolfgang back to the camp, carrying a slew of things from their travels. “We’re baaaaack,” Willow called in a sing-songy voice as they started to deposit their findings into the appropriate chests. Wilson glanced from the pyro to the strongman, then over to Wendy and Abigail. He said nothing but gave them a specific look, pointing to the ghost that was just far enough away that he didn’t feel its presence both on his skin and up in his sinuses. Wolfgang turned and saw Wilson and he initially smiled. “Awwww so Vendy DID make you flower crown,” He said. “Don’t you look so cute,” He said, squishing his cheeks in slightly dry adoration. Wilson frowned but kept pointing to the ghost adamantly; this was evidently most important. Wolfgang’s gaze followed the scientist’s arm and he shrugged. “What are—what is he pointing at?” He dropped to a whisper, leaning in to Willow, albeit poorly enough that the entire party could hear him.

“What—there’s a ghost RIGHT over there,” Wilson said, his voice still sounding like dry leaves but seemed to have felt better from the flower crown, at least physically. Wolfgang and Willow regarded the blank space where they saw no ghost, just Wendy standing there with her hands behind her back, rocking on her feet in a way Wilson saw as feigning innocence. Willow and Wolfgang paused and collaboratively looked to Wendy for an explanation as Willow put her hands on her hips.

“He’s been like this all day,” Wendy replied mildly in her airy voice. “I brought him with me to pick flowers – the shadows might already have him,” She continued, giving Wilson a sympathetic look. Wilson slightly curled his lip, pink nose twitching and he looked back at Willow and Wolfgang.

“No, see, we ACTUALLY went out into the forest and performed some sort of blood sacrifice and this flower turned into a ghost,” He explained hastily and some of his personality was finally making itself more evident as he talked, speeding up as his enthusiasm and desperate need to prove himself right started to shine through though he was cut short as he ran out of breath and gasped after the sentence. He clutched his chest and tried to catch his breath as Wendy simply shook her head slowly, blond pigtails swaying behind her.

Wolfgang was the first to respond, nodding and giving Wilson a pat on the back. “Is okay,” He assured. “We all a little crazy here. Nice to see you going back to normal self, ja?” He asked and Wilson frowned with a small sniff. Willow had a half-concerned look on her face, twirling one of her black pigtails.

“There somethin’ on your mind, sport?” She asked; she wasn’t sure if he was just screwing around or maybe his fever reached a boiling point and was starting to fry his brain. There was a pause and Wilson’s expression dropped to one of mild frustration.

“Not anymore,” Wilson replied stubbornly; how come they couldn’t see Abigail? She was RIGHT there. He rubbed his temples but shrugged. “No, it’s nothing,” He resigned; despite his sudden surge of energy, he really wasn’t mentally or physically prepared to defend his case for the ghost in the room. He sniffed again and itched at his nose absently, focusing his gaze into the fire; congratulations, you’ve successfully made an idiot out of yourself today, as well.

“…Okay, then. That was… odd,” Willow said before shaking her head. “Okay, time to start the fire,” She started matter-of-factly. “Wilson, can you craft us a science machine?” She asked. He thought on it and he glanced around at the materials that were just lying around. Sticks, stones, wood, flint… He cleared the phlegm from his throat and scratched the back of his head tenderly; it still had traces of a headache, a dull thudding on the inside of his skull.

“Yeah,” He replied uncertainly as the memory of the schematic came back to him. “I’m gonna need some gold, though,” He added, glancing back over at Willow. She nudged Wolfgang on the arm and the strongman held a nugget of the stuff aloft.

“You mean this?” He asked. Wilson blinked.

“Y-yeah. Where’d you find that?” He hadn’t been able to find any when he was alone – then again, he’d be there awhile if he started counting all the things he didn’t do when he was by himself.

Wolfgang shrugged and tossed the nugget to Wilson, who caught it clumsily. “Found it in rock. Is good you’re building machine,” he said. “We found cave,” He announced, immediately receiving a smack on the arm from Willow.

“No fair, I told you *I* wanted to tell them!” She growled, crossing her arms. Wolfgang laughed, not having felt her retaliation on his beefy arm at all.

“Sorry, Villow,” He apologized. “Next time you be faster; sort of slipped out,” He tried to defend. She didn’t reply and just continued huffing as she threw the smallest of princess-y tantrums. “Scientist can build station tomorrow,” He noted the rapidly setting sun. “I’m sleeping, you choose who stay up,” He remarked and with that, Wolfgang was out of the conversation. He downed some cooked meat, set out a straw mat, and conked out. Willow, Wilson and Wendy just watched for a while, during which the silence took a backseat only to the quietly cracking fire.

“…Okay, so who’s gonna stay up?” Willow was the first to break the silence. Wilson, who was tending to the fire, shrugged.

“How about you and Wendy?” He mused with a sniff. “You two can bond over… things. Like ways to fix your pigtails,” He added dryly, happy that he really was starting to feel better – though he wasn’t sure about this whole “cave” business, which set a small burning in the pit of his stomach. He figured they’d discuss one topic at a time so he would ask her about the cave next or maybe even in the morning. He didn’t see that happening however, as he looked up from the fire to find Wendy awkwardly staring at Willow, who was awkwardly flicking her lighter absently again; he figured that was what she did to distract herself from having to emote other than sarcastically. He’d probably still have been mad at her for the other day if he wasn’t feeling any better… damn the flower crown making him a more positive person. “Or Wendy and Abigail can stay up,” He also suggested with a small shrug; Wendy was screwing with him. That was fine, he was patient; he wasn’t sure why Willow or Wolfgang COULDN’T see her but he figured it was some trick she and/or Wendy was playing.

The black-haired girl cast a glance down at the scientist. “Still on about that ghost, huh?” She asked. “How about you and Wendy stay up since you get along so well,” Wilson heard the bitterness in her voice and he exchanged looks with her, covering his mouth to cough a couple times before replying.

“That tone is why I think you and Wendy should do it,” He felt he had a good point; they all didn’t have to get along perfectly but the less they all hated each other, the easier life would be. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so they say. “Hey, uh… What did Wolfgang mean by “we found a cave”?” He inquired, looking earnestly at the young woman. Aside from initially being bummed out at the mention of it again, she recovered quickly and flicked her lighter some more.

“We were mining and one of the rocks fell into the ground. There was a hole, Wolfgang refused to go down so I did and it was very dark,” She explained. “So we need a science machine so we can make spelunking gear so we can explore and see if there’s anything useful down there.” She said. “To be safe, if we’re being honest, it’ll probably be me and Wendy though I’d feel better if all of us went; a fire burns brighter when there’s more of it,” She felt a stab to her pride at the mention of Wendy being the most viable candidate but even she couldn’t deny the facts; Wolfgang was kind of a sissy and Wendy wasn’t. Wilson scratched at his nose.

“Sounds good to me,” He said mildly; he was usually an agreeable guy when people weren’t expecting unreasonable results from his poor health. He’d still feel better if he was given a couple more days, though… maybe one day for the science machine and another to stomp out the last of the illness.

“Good! Perfect,” Willow chimed enthusiastically. “Wolfgang and I will go out and get the supplies tomorrow while you and Wendy stick around and make the science machine. And Wendy can… pick flowers or something,” She added lazily, waving her hand as if Wendy weren’t present. Wilson looked over at the girl and her ghost. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised to see that her expression hadn’t changed at all but she continued to peer at the other girl.

“Why can’t you t-take her with you?” Wilson asked, pausing for just a moment as the annoying itch returned to his sinuses. He tried to shake it off and stood up quickly when it did – he ignored the blood rushing to his head and he started to pull out his handkerchief; he had forgotten about it earlier today. “Excuse me for a m-moment,” He muttered; some gentlemanly habits didn’t die, after all. He turned away from the trio and took a few generous steps away from the fire even as the sun was almost completely gone, making way for the pitch blackness of the darkest part of the night. Maybe it was better this way; they couldn’t make fun of what they couldn’t see, right?

The hitching began. He wasn’t sure which part he hated more; the build-up or the actual sneeze. Both of them were awkward reminders that he was still unwell. Inhale, pause, exhale, sharp inhale, sniff. Thirty seconds of this nonsense, almost enveloped in the blackness of insanity – it was just really dark outside.

Hnng’xt! Ugh.

He sniffed; every time he sneezed, it seemed to cause a fresh new blockage in his sinuses. And, of COURSE, he wasn’t done as he began the painstaking process to another buildup. Even as he did, though, he started to hear whispering and he tried to look forward, straining his eyes through the tears that welled up from the itching in his nose as if he wanted to see someone, something. The darkness closed in but he felt immobilized, the overwhelming feeling of dread trying to crush him even though he had his crown of flowers protecting him.

He was just about to sneeze again when he felt someone jerk on the back of his shirt collar with such vivacity that he lost it, instead tumbling backwards into the light of the fire. He gasped as he landed on his back, bewildered, light-headed, frustrated that the feeling to sneeze still lingered though he couldn’t actually do it… Wendy’s face appeared right in front of his and he jumped, though the surprise from THAT quickly turned into frustration.

“What do you WANT?” He asked through gritted teeth; he was starting to grow irritated with the entirety of… EVERYTHING.

“The shadows were starting to call to you,” She replied in a whisper. He frowned and sniffed.

“No, they weren’t,” He said. “I was only out there for, like, half a minute,” He insisted. She shook her head slowly in response.

“Willow’s been asleep for over half an hour,” She replied and pointed to the now-asleep girl, clutching her lighter tightly as she was curled up on the ground. Wilson blinked, confused.

“But I wasn’t gone for half an hour,” He said. “I was in the middle of a conversation with her when I had to…” Dare he admit that he could PROVE that he was only gone for a minute or two, tops. He rolled onto his side and sat up slowly, brushing off his back but choosing not to finish his sentence. Wendy backed up a little and turned to look at Abigail who, thankfully, had kept her distance though Wilson had some concern that she was just biding her time, waiting to pounce…

“We could hear you in the dark,” Wendy explained. “You were close but also really far away. Like a dream. You were talking, afraid of being left behind,” She continued. “Or being perceived as a failure,” He exhaled sharply as if he just got punched in the gut and he ground his teeth together quietly as she spoke.

“Okay, gotcha,” He replied shortly. “Well… thanks, then,” He added under his breath. “I guess you and me are staying up then, huh?” He asked and Wendy nodded.

“Abigail is, too,” She said and the ghost did a little… ghostly jig or whatever it was that involved turning little circles.

“That reminds me,” Wilson said slowly, calming down once more. “What’s with not showing her to the other guys earlier?” He asked. “I mean, wasn’t the point so that they wouldn’t see the ghost then be all like ‘augh Wendy’s a witch, cast her out!’ or something like that?” He asked. Wendy looked at Abigail for a moment but gave a small shrug.

“She just thought it would be funny to mess around with you,” Wendy admitted. Wilson flared his nostrils with a small growl; he didn’t like jokes at his expense, at least not to this degree.

“Sooooo,” He hissed. “When is she gonna not do that anymore?” He tried to maintain his calm composure but between the cold, everyone thinking he was insane and the fact that he evidently lost time tonight, he wanted to snap and strangle someone. “I’m not a big fan of being told to tag along to witness some weird ritual only for no one to believe me anyway.”

Wendy remained mild, simply regarding Wilson as the man seemed to experience a broad range of emotions in such a short time; what a pain that must be. “We’re staying here with you tomorrow,” She told him. “We can show them then, right, Abigail?” She asked, turning to the ghost who stared back at the young girl, the existential stare that seemed to traverse planes. Wilson rubbed his dark-ringed eyes with the heels of his hands, groaning softly. Maybe he WAS insane. Maybe he was actually still asleep in his secluded laboratory in the middle of the woods and any moment now, he’d wake up and realise that he was having a really intense fever dream.

“Do what you want,” He sighed with resignation after a while, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them as he stared into the fire; it seemed to be a constant for him and it brought him a strange sense of comfort. The thought of not knowing where he was for chunks of time was a bit disconcerting, however, and his thoughts dwelled on that; what if he had done that before? What if it happened again and he ended up dying? Wendy’s light, ethereal voice cut through his thoughts as if she could hear them.

“Don’t worry,” She said softly and it was somewhat soothing despite his concern. “Abigail tells me that you’ll be safe,” She said. Wilson looked at the girl past the fire. Yeah, the ghost that screwed around with him all the way home from their trek earlier; she’s convinced that he’d be JUST FINE. He coughed into his knees and put his forehead on them tiredly. He needed sleep. “You’re tired,” Wendy stated and Wilson rolled his eyes under his closed eyelids. “You can sleep; Abigail and I can keep watch,” She mentioned. He looked up warily.

“What’s the catch?” He asked. Wendy shook her head.

“There isn’t one. You’re unwell… physically, too,” She was being vague again and Wilson didn’t like—HEY.

“I’m not mentally unwell,” He frowned. Wendy tilted her head.

“Oh, you aren’t? But I thought…” She blinked and turned to Abigail as if gossiping with her for a moment as the ghost got closer to Wendy’s face. “Well, if that’s what you tell yourself,” She gave a small shrug. “Either way, you can sleep. We’ll wake you up,” She assured. Well… he wasn’t one to miss out on an opportunity like that, at least, not after them giving him grief all day. He scooted back from the fire slightly, took the flower crown off his head and eased onto his side. He placed the flowers next to his head gently and, for the first time since meeting the strange group, he could half-breathe out of his nose, his voice was doing better, he seemed to be past the worst part. Seemed.

[IcyFlame]

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I literally just saw this was updated and I cannot even describe the level of excitement I felt. This is so cute I'm just about dead, and I have gone absolutely crazy full-fledged fandom now and I am so so happy this exists now because if it wasn't I'd be kinda disappointed there wasn't anything written about it. So yeah this is so goddamn cute it's really hard not to make one of those little squeaks when you're fangirling but then the scream gets caught in your throat. (I'm failing miserably)

[Hedgehog]

Well - I've finally found the time and leisure to read this (free day today). First - I don't know this fandom at all but I know you write great stories, Red Ring.

I like a lot of things in combination with a sickness - fever most of all but also sick voices and weakness. I really like your descriptions of the poor ailing scientist Wilson. The next quote was one of my favorites:

“So, er…” Wilson started uneasily, his throat crackling like dry leaves across the uneven pavement on a brisk autumn day.

Of course, I don't know all the other W-characters either but I think you've got a good feeling for odd situations and funny dialogues. I also like that the care-taking is so subtle and casual in this story. It's not more than giving him time and space to recover on his own. Although I like well written care-taking scenarios, this was kind of refreshing to read. Curious about more parts of this now...

[mariaib]

heck yeah! part 7! once again, its lovely writen~ i'm glad that you enjoy writing this anyway, like always, i love it~can't wait for the next one!

[Red Ring of Death]

First off, I apologise for the absence. Or... I would if I were sorry. Which I'm not. About anything I say. I had to take a break from this place BUT I won't go into that 'cuz no one caaares~ Second of all, I had to split this one in two; of all my stories, I'm still the most fond of this one so I get whims sometimes.

In favour of world/character building, there aren't any sneezes in this one or.... the next part, I don't think. So if you just came for those, then you CAN skip these two. I wouldn't, but you can. So here's Part 8.

___________________________________________________________________________

“Can you stop staring at me, now?” Wilson asked for what felt like the third time in just over an hour as he wiped his nose on the back of his black, sleeve-covered wrist. Wendy glanced up from the flower crown she was working on mildly.

“I wasn’t staring at you,” She replied. Wilson looked over his shoulder at the girl suspiciously, then slowly over to the ghost that lingered just behind her. He had felt eyes on him all morning; when he woke up feeling almost worse than before, he ate a meager breakfast then curled back up to sleep some more (to little avail; he felt as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all) but now that he was awake again and actually starting to make something of his existence on this strange, alien monochrome world with grasping black branches for hands and a near-constant whispering in the back of his mind.

“…Can you ask Abigail to stop staring at me?” He edited his question as he turned back to look at his work; the Science Machine was already starting to take shape from the tripod it stood upon to the log of a “head”, vaguely resembling a man with its cube body and a long lever for an arm. It was a wonder he was able to construct the thing using logs, stones and gold. Had he been back home, he probably would’ve questioned this but as it stood, he had the knowledge and he didn’t care how it worked; he was talking to a girl and her ghost sister and every once and awhile, he felt someone tapping on his back so the notion of MacGyver-ing something complex from something simple didn’t seem that farfetched.

“Abigail says she’s just watching you work,” Wendy had since looked back down at the flower crown. On the one hand, Wilson felt better knowing that it wasn’t just him and that there WAS a pair of eyes on his back but on the other, he was being stared at. That meant scrutinized. His mind burned with curiosity as to what sort of judgement a ghost could pass on his scientific superiority. His nose twitched slightly as he worked, narrowing his gaze and trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling. It didn’t help that he could barely look up without seeing the sky covered in dark grey rain clouds, which stressed him out somewhat. The sun was completely obscured and dropped the temperature at least eight degrees, a rough wind whipping at his hair occasionally.

He didn’t have a rebuttal for the admission of eyes on his back but he wiped his pale forehead as he worked, slightly apprehensive about whether or not he would finish before the rain hit or if it even mattered – there was nowhere to escape a downpour ANYWAY. Even an aid like a straw hat, to a cynic like Wilson, only really helped in delaying the inevitability that came with the rain and that was getting sick and subsequently going insane because ONLY YOU CAN GO INSANE—

“You’re talking to yourself again,” Wendy remarked, still unblinkingly staring down at the flower crown.  The scientist turned his head and looked at her sideways briefly. ‘Again’? How many times had this happened? She had to be making it up.

“I was not,” He protested, looking back at his work; unless she could suddenly read minds, he was almost certain that he was internally yelling at himself. Unless… she was doing this on purpose and trying to mess around with him and this was all a way to make him seem unstable so as soon as he was well, Willow would see no use in keeping him to leave Wendy with so that Wendy wouldn’t steal all their things in the middle of the night—

“You just did it some more,” Wendy insisted. “Your thoughts are mixing with your mouth and it doesn’t make sense,” She said mildly. Wilson licked his lower lip faintly and made a small, irritated motion as if popping his neck.

“Okay, what did I just say,” He asked. “Verbatim,” he added, pausing and listening to her closely; he tried to turn his brain and thoughts to himself off, though it felt difficult and he wasn’t sure whether it was the attempt or his cold that sent subtle pulses through his head. There was some whispering and Wilson assumed Wendy was conversing with her deceased sister whom Wilson considered as cheating but he didn’t say anything… hopefully. The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became; what if she repeated what he said back to him and his thoughts were no longer safe. In essence, he truly would lose his mind.

“What if she repeated what I said back to me and my thoughts were no longer safe,” He felt his stomach drop as she echoed his thoughts. He almost dropped the hammer he was holding as he worked, a small twitch settling into his left eye. “In essence, I truly would lose my mind.” Well, this was it. Go ahead and give him a frontal lobotomy now. He had lost another gentlemanly quality; the ability to keep his thoughts to himself. “Wilson…” The girl’s voice penetrated his thoughts. Afraid to say or think or even feel anything other than the sudden crushing weight on his skull and shoulders, he turned slowly and faced her though he avoided her gaze. “We need to go pick flowers,” She said gently, her voice still wispy but with that calmness that countered his own frantic mind. He frowned slightly.

“What good will that do?” He replied unsurely, his brow furrowing and he suddenly wanted to curl back up into a little ball and cry. The sick feeling was mixing with the panic of wondering what all had been to himself and what was accidentally said aloud, the black hands tugging at the corners of his vision. It felt as though someone were constantly poking him everywhere and he wanted to turn suddenly and slap whoever was touching him though part of him knew that no one was.

“Picking flowers is good for your mind,” Wendy explained. “You’ll feel better. We can pick flowers and I’ll make another crown while you finish the machine,” She continued. “And we can make a straw mat for you and you can get some decent sleep tonight.” It was strangely soothing for him to know that she seemed to have a solid plan. He saw her motion for Abigail to linger further away out of his blurry peripheral vision. He lidded his eyes partially and dropped the hammer and it landed with a loud ‘thump’. The blond girl approached Wilson in a way he could only assume was “cautious” and she placed the flower crown she was working on gently on his sweating head.

“C’mon,” She took his clammy, spidery hand in hers and she tugged to get him to move – he seemed to have frozen for a moment, there. However, he took a few shaky steps though he remained silent as if in a thought that was distant. Good enough for now, Wendy continued to pull on him, leading him as she walked backwards. “Stay here, Abigail,” She commanded to the ghost that had started to float after the duo, maintaining the distance they knew was ‘safe’. The ghost stopped and made a small motion as if tilting its head and Wendy nodded. “We’ll be back. Make sure no one attacks the camp,” She instructed and the ghost stiffened before floating back and forth as if she were a soldier on duty.

They were going in a different direction this time, or at least that was the mild impression Wilson got; to be honest, none of it looked familiar as the world was greyscale and covered in visible noise. The flower crown helped to a small extent but it did little to assuage his sudden terror that his internal monologue wasn’t so internal. They weren’t too far away from their starting destination as Wendy led him to a small clearing among a handful of trees. Flowers dotted the ground and the area would’ve been picturesque if his vision wasn’t surrounded by blurred black and red.

Nothing happened. Wendy took a step back and put a hand on the small of Wilson’s back, sending a small shudder up the spine of the latter. She applied slight pressure to push him forward and he took a step but stopped as if an opposing force were leaning against his chest. “Wilson?” She asked, peering over his shoulder. He was still looking at the ground off-hand, eyes half-lidded and all he was missing was the strand of saliva to tell her that he was checked out of his mental hotel. “Earth to Gentleman Scientist,” She said a little sterner than she was used to, going around to face him and snapping her delicate fingers on his face. He couldn’t even hear the sound anymore though he knew she was standing there but he felt like a dead man walking; this whole “turn your mind off” thing was tricky and while he felt like it worked as he no longer thought about paranoid conspiracies, there also went his drive and ambition. He was in “hibernation mode” as he called it; asleep but awake. He didn’t feel any pain, any congestion in his sinuses, the pressure in his chest or head, the soreness of his body… it was as if all of it melted away.

“Wilson,” Wendy’s voice was clearer now though it wasn’t worried; rather, it seemed more impatient than anything. “Wilson, wake up,” She instructed. But why would he wanna wake up? He was content as he was right now though he couldn’t explain it. “Wilson Percival Higgsbury, if you don’t come back to this world, I’ll be forced to pull you back and you won’t like me for it,” He heard Wendy command, stomping her foot in a rather girlish manner, throwing her arms down with frustration as she now glared at him with her intense blue eyes. No reaction again. She sighed and reached up to put her hands on his shoulders before forcing him to sit down, which he complied easily; at this point, it was as if he were made of clay. He was just a ball-joined doll at this point.

She knew there would be a very easy way to bring him back from his blank-slated mindset but after vaguely hearing the story, she didn’t want to risk another incident so after sitting him down, she carefully placed him on his back, legs together neatly and hands folded across his chest as though he were resting in a coffin; she still had preferences, what could she say. Not wanting to waste the sanity picking flowers, she instead went to the nearby trees and collected small bunches of branches ending with several leaves and gathered them in a makeshift bouquet, placing it in Wilson’s pale hands. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat enjoying herself at this point but maybe if he came back from his mindscape in a ridiculous position, he would forget that just an hour ago, he was murmuring about how the other members of the group were planning on killing him and accidentally word-vomiting to present company and he would chalk it up to a fever dream. Well… that’s what Wendy was gonna tell him, anyway.

The branches were gathered and he was in position in the little clearing, looking like a… gross, sweaty, mouth breathing corpse who hadn’t had a decent shower in days with red-rimmed eyes and a flushed nose. Wendy pictured it looking a little differently but she shrugged to herself and brushed the grass and dirt off her dress. “Last call, Wilson,” She almost sang in an attempt to get through the mental block he had put up. She paused and, unsurprisingly, he didn’t respond so she blinked and crouched gracefully, plucking a flower from the ground in a swift motion before straightening up again and approaching where Wilson lay, still blankly staring up at the clouded sky.

[Red Ring of Death]

Part 8.b. Or, rather, Part 9. Also I realised I probably didn't have to split this into two parts in retrospect but eh, just think of them like those mini-chapters people put in good novels sometimes.

_________________________________________________________________________

Wendy sat next to his head carefully, making sure not to accidentally kick him in the face. She straightened out her dress prettily and examined the flower before taking a petal between two fingers and plucking it from its body.  “Ring around the rosy,” She half-sang, half-hummed as she dropped the petal onto Wilson’s face gently. “Pockets full of posy,” She continued picking petals one by one in a rhythmic manner, not necessarily coinciding with the beats of the song but sprinkling them onto Wilson’s face. “Ashes, ashes,” She neared the end of the nursery rhyme and it hadn’t occurred to her what she would do if this didn’t work. Maybe she’d just have to slap him. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. “We all fall down,” She finished, the last of the petals fluttering down onto Wilson’s face. She looked down at him briefly; at least he closed his eyes as the petals fell so she knew he wasn’t COMPLETELY out of it. 

She shrugged and looked back at her flower, stripped of all the petals so only the yellow, pollen-coated head remained. She looked from the flower to Wilson then back and sighed. Moral dilemmas; she hated ‘em. Lowering the flower, she instead leaned over and tenderly placed a kiss on the pointed tip of Wilson’s downturned nose.

The effect worked quicker than she thought as his nostrils flared and he finally moved his hand from its resting place to scratch at his nose absently. He grunted quietly and opened his eyes slowly, pupils contracting as they made contact with the sky once more. He squinted and sniffed, flopping his head to the side as he looked up at Wendy and blinking drearily.

“…What happened?” He asked, sniffing again before swallowing whatever was stuck in his throat. Wendy raised her eyebrows.

“Well… what do you remember last?” She mused, the airy tone returning to her voice once more, looking at him but dipping her finger into the flower absently as they spoke. He stretched his other arm, scattering the bouquet on the ground next to him as he recalled what happened.

“I was working on my Science Machine,” He said slowly. “And Abigail was staring at me, and then…” He paused; he didn’t like when he couldn’t remember what he had done previously and he reached up to feel the flower crown on his head. “Did we have a fight?” He asked. Wendy shook her head mildly, somewhat surprised that he would draw that conclusion first.

“I think you were having a nightmare,” She explained, swirling the flower in her fingers. “And you were kind of comatose so I brought you to pick some flowers.” She continued to weave the story. “I thought for a second you left the world,” She said, motioning to his pose with her clean hand. “So I set you up and you looked like an angel.” She trailed off, gazing at him. “But now you need to get up so you can regain your sanity.” She said, using the back of her wrist to brush some of her blond hair from her face. “And we have to return soon.” She looked up as she spoke, noting where the sun was when they arrived and where it was now, obscured by the clouds though it was. Wilson brushed the rest of the petals off his face and slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, groaning softly as he remembered how sore and stuffed up and achy he still was. He coughed into a fist and looked around blearily; the world was still monochrome and tendrils still crept at the corners of his vision but he guessed the flower crown had helped at least a little.

“What’s with the petals?” He asked, picking one of them up and twirling it. “Did you have a eulogy for me?” He said dryly. Wendy remained where she was as he sat up but kept her blue eyes on him, absently tossing the flower onto the ground.

“I was contemplating how I should awaken you,” She replied casually as he yawned and stretched again, running his fingers through his hair. It was a strange feeling, being alive and dead at the same time. If that’s even what it was though it felt more like he was asleep. “I almost slapped you but decided not to,” She added. He looked over at her as he withdrew his handkerchief from his vest pocket. He couldn’t consciously remember the last time he had been on the receiving end of so much… abruptness. This was why he spent all of his time alone – well, that and his parents were… somewhere else? Dead? He couldn’t remember.

“In that case, I feel it worth mentioning that I must thank you for not slapping me,” He rubbed at his nose with the handkerchief, sarcasm still prevalent in his voice that was coated with phlegm. “So you want me to pick flowers, huh?” He asked, glancing around at the things dotting the ground. They were sketchy and harshly contrasted against the grey background, at least to him. He shook his head to try to clear his vision though it didn’t work so he pocketed the handkerchief with another twitch of his nose and stood up shakily. He felt kind of okay this morning, but now he felt back down on the level he’d been on the past day or two. He rubbed his lower back with a small grimace and looked down at Wendy before shrugging off whatever he was thinking and went over to one of the small clusters of flowers, crouching and starting to delicately pick them. Almost instantly, he felt a little butterfly in his stomach and he couldn’t help but smile. That felt good; do it again.

Wendy watched him repeat the motion, a small smile on his face and she could tell that it was working. She looked down at her pollen-coated fingers and absently wiped them down on the hem of her dress, glad that it hadn’t come to that; she was sure that wouldn’t have helped anything at all. Plus, who was she, Willow?

Soon enough, Wilson had picked the area clean of the flowers and soon checked his inventory, seeing the collection he accrued and he felt fuzzy inside. Very fuzzy. Too fuzzy, sinuses itching, headache swelling… vision getting better but he fished for his handkerchief again as the pained hitching began again. He was doing so well, too. Wendy got to her feet (she knew by now that this process could take several minutes) and gently put a hand on Wilson’s shoulder. “We have to go back,” She said in her distant tone. Doing anything remotely not focusing on the itch in his nasal cavity was hard but Wilson managed though he had to stop a couple times as they painstakingly walked back to the camp.

After what seemed like forever, he finally held up a hand that he had to stop. Wendy complied patiently and looked back up at the sky as the scientist gave a well-earned sneeze.

Hhnx’t! He wiped his eyes and brushed his hair from his forehead and continued forward as the duo approached their familiar campsite. He went over to his half-assembled science machine and stopped again, already hitching for the next sneeze while Wendy carefully reached around Wilson’s lithe torso into his inventory and pulled out the handful of flowers wordlessly, fluidly. She immediately took a few generous steps away from the man and approached Abigail’s side once more as the ghost flitted around her sister happily. She gave a small, very slightly mischievous smile at Abigail’s happiness, knowing Wilson didn’t see it before sitting back down where she was before and starting to weave another flower crown – it was her forte, what could she say.

Meanwhile, in the span of several minutes that always felt like an eternity, Wilson sneezed four or five times more, leaning against his machine for support at that point. He exhaled with a handful of coughs and put the heel of his hand against his forehead, closing his eyes, a bizarre, stagnant feeling washing over him as if he were standing right there all day and got nothing accomplished, which was a feeling he hated just slightly less than being sick. Double whammy, lucky him. At least he didn’t feel as though he were losing his mind anymore. He adjusted himself in the most gentlemanly way he could and picked up the hammer he had dropped earlier, shook his head slightly and started to get back to work on the machine; at least he got the impression that he was almost done.

 

 

As the sun set beneath the clouds that still loomed overhead but held off on the rain, Wilson was drawing near the end of his project though was still sniffing thickly, almost routinely at this point.

“Hey sniffles, we’re back,” Wendy’s sharp voice cut through Wilson’s work ethic and the latter closed his eyes with exasperation, sighing. What a humiliating nickname. He looked at her over his shoulder with the ghost of a glare on his thin face. She had her arms crossed with an eyebrow raised sharply, her lips pursed. Wilson’s gaze slid over to Wolfgang, who was rubbing one of his arms somewhat uneasily, facing forward but looking sideways at a new figure.

“…Who’s the robot?” He asked after a long pause.

 

 

Edited April 19, 2016 by Red Ring of Death

[Red Ring of Death]

Welcome to Part 10 also known as "Red Ring keeps putzing around and not writing anythin' of substance". At least, I can safely say, I DO have an endgame in mind so this series won't be going on forever. Since I know all of you (like, everyone on this site) are just DYING to see where I'm going with this.
______________________________________________________________________

“GREETINGS, STUPID HUMAN. I AM WX-78,” The robot replied in an inhuman, monotonous voice that Wilson could only describe as kind of a crazy synth. Wilson blinked and looked back at Willow who was now flicking her lighter, arms still partially crossed and putting her weight on one leg matter-of-factly.

“We find him near evil ruins,” Wolfgang finally broke the awkward silence and Wilson turned the rest of his body to look at the trio, catching Wendy also peering at them from his peripheral vision (that he had again, hooray). “We proposed—“

“HOW WE GOT HERE IS UNIMPORTANT,” WX-78 interrupted. “I WILL HELP YOU USELESS MEAT SACKS IN EXCHANGE FOR FOOD,” He stated simply. “THIS UNIT HAS HAD TROUBLE IN THE PAST FOR SOME ODD REASON.”

“That… seems like an arbitrary reason,” Wilson said before thinking. “Food isn’t that hard to find.”

“THERE’S STRENGTH IN NUMBERS, ACCORDING TO MY CALCULATIONS,” the automaton replied. “EVEN IF IT’S WITH YOU INFERIOUR BEINGS. BUT IF YOU WANT, I CAN GO.” There was something about his voice, a certain seriousness that Wilson didn’t like; this guy wasn’t a bluffer. Wilson lifted his free hand slightly.

“I’ve no objections,” He said. “I’m Wilson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, WX-78,” He said as politely as he could in his congested voice; at least his voice wasn’t threatening to leave every couple minutes now. He figured by tomorrow, it would have moved from the rest of his body to live out the last few days in his head. Still a pain but at least he could function normally at that point. The robot regarded Wilson for a .moment before turning his head in a jerky, automatic function and pointing to Wilson none-too-subtly.

“THAT HUMAN SOUNDS BROKEN,” He announced and Willow hurriedly clapped a hand over her face to avoid snorting in a laugh. Wilson’s shoulders drooped and his nose twitched though he wasn’t sure if it was irritation from his cold or just irritation in general.

“He is not broken,” Wolfgang explained though his voice also sounded somewhat strained as he repressed a laugh. “Just sick right now, is all.”

“THAT WORD HOLDS NO MEANING TO ME,” WX-78 replied dryly, or as dryly as his monotone would allow. Wilson, finished with this conversation, coughed once or twice and turned back to his project. He wasn’t expecting sympathy from the robot but the exchange seemed like a waste of time to him. Ice-breaking, some called it but he had a feeling he wasn’t gonna be friends with the automaton, anyway. “WHAT DEFINITION SHOULD I STORE IN MY MEMORY DATABANK?” WX-78 asked behind him.

“It’s when you don’t feel good,” Willow answered, having since recovered from her stifled laughter and caught her breath. “Or when you’re a gross sniffing mess of germs,” She added and Wilson felt eyes on his back, tensing his shoulders and he took a deep breath. She wouldn’t mess with him today; he was so close to actually accomplishing something.

“A GROSS MESS OF GERMS,” WX repeated. “SO ALL HUMANS ARE SICK, THEN.” He concluded.

“Er…. Nnnno. Not really, no,” Willow replied. “It’s like… humans are right here normally, right?” Wilson assumed she was showing the robot a sort of diagram. “And when you’re sick, you’re usually right about here. And our good gentleman scientist Wilson over there, well… he’s been waaaaaay down here.” He could hear her voice alter as it seemed like she crouched. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand but didn’t reply.

“IS HE AT DEATH’S DOOR?” WX asked. “HE SEEMS LIKE A LIABILITY DOWN THERE.”

“I’m not THAT sick,” Wilson finally chipped in to the conversation as he continued to work on the tweaks of the machine. “Whatever Willow’s telling you is grossly exaggerated information.”

“Little scientist have point,” Wolfgang also added. “He only has cold. Used to be worse, got better recently.”

“COLD IS THE TERM FOR LACK OF WARMTH,” WX stated. “YOU’RE MAKING TERMINOLOGY UP.”

“It’s a…. sickness,” Willow started to carry a particular inflection to her voice and Wilson guessed it was a feeling of starting to talk to a brick wall. “Okay so you know that level we talked about with sick humans?” She asked. “Well, pretend this level has lots of rooms and each room is something that makes humans sick. Like… there’s a room for sickness from eating bad food, and—“

“NOTHING BAD HAPPENS FROM EATING BAD FOOD,” WX interrupted. “YOU HUMANS ARE FRAGILE AND PICKY.” Wilson looked over at Wendy at this point and Wendy, seemingly focused, was still working on her flower crown though she had a small smile on her face; she was, indeed, an observer and no doubt she was enjoying this conversation.

“We aren’t fragile,” Willow retorted. “You need to listen more and make fewer assumptions just because you’re a robot.”

“TO BE FAIR, YOU AREN’T MAKING SENSE.” Wilson could almost hear him shrug. “YOU SAY SICK AND THEN LEVELS AND ‘COLD’ AND THAT’S AN ADJECTIVE, NOT A NOUN.” Wilson paused; he had a point. He supposed it could be difficult to understand when you’ve never had to deal with it.

“The scientific name is rhinovirus,” Wilson mentioned with a sniff, still keeping his back turned. “From the Greek. I’m assuming you know what a virus is.” He added. Much to his surprise, there was a pause.

“I KNOW BROTHERS WHO HAVE HAD VIRUSES,” WX admitted.

“Essentially the same thing. Sometimes humans just break down. Of course, the circumstances are a little different but that’s the general idea.” Wilson explained, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead; he must’ve broken his fever because he was starting to feel hot.

“I UNDERSTAND THAT SIMILARITY.” WX replied. “THE BROKEN HUMAN MAKES THE MOST SENSE. YOU FLESH SACKS ARE CONFUSING AND NONSENSICAL.” He announced. “HOW LONG UNTIL THE BROKEN HUMAN WILSON SHUTS DOWN? WE CAN STRIP HIM FOR PARTS LIKE MY POOR BROTHERS WITH VIRUSES.”

“That’s, uh… that’s not a thing. Humans don’t do that unless they’re cannibals or murderers who turn people into furniture,” Willow said and Wilson secretly felt a little relieved; it was strange that their relationship, over the course of just five or six days, went from ‘we almost left you for dead’ to ‘we don’t turn people into parts.’ It was subtle but he took it where he could get it.

“WE CAN TURN HIM INTO FURNITURE,” WX agreed, to Willow’s chagrin. “YOUR THINKING IS PRETTY GOOD FOR A LIFE FORM.”

“Seriously, do you just not listen? I said we AREN’T gonna do that,” Wilson could hear Willow getting more frustrated and it was his turn to smile faintly. “Is this gonna be a problem? ‘Cuz if it is then we can take you back out to the wilderness and let you be voodoo’d away by whatever’s in the dark.” She threatened.

“Hate to interrupt you guys’ lovely conversation,” Wilson interjected, rubbing his nose as he sniffed and turned to face the trio, leaning against the machine. “Done.” He gave a half-smile; he was proud of himself though he still looked pretty peaked so it probably just looked super tired. Willow played with one of her pigtails and whistled, going over and examining the shiny new science machine.

“And it only took you all day,” She quipped and Wilson glanced over at Wendy briefly before looking back at Willow.

“I would’ve gotten it done sooner but we had to go… pick flowers,” He admitted.

“THAT’S REALLY EMBARRASSING,” WX said, marching over to the machine and also looking at it but finding himself looking at Wilson instead. He leaned in and Wilson leaned back slightly, trying to maintain a facial distance of… more than half a foot. XY tilted his head slightly, unblinkingly staring at Wilson who was getting a little less comfortable with each passing second. “WHY ARE YOU WEARING FLOWERS ON YOUR HEAD?” He inquired.

“I, um… It’s good for the mind?” He answered uncertainly. “It wasn’t… Wendy did it,” He pointed to the girl sitting nearby and XY turned his head sharply.

“HOW MANY OF YOU ARE THERE?” He asked. “YOU ARE THE ONE CALLED WENDY?” He strode over to the girl instead and Wendy glanced up casually. She nodded wordlessly. WX’s neck craned. “UNDEAD ALERT.” He announced and Willow looked over at Wendy. There was a brief pause.

“Whoa!” She exclaimed. “How long has there been a ghost there?” She sputtered. Wilson felt weight behind him and suddenly two large hands were on his shoulders.

“It has come to reap our souls!” Wolfgang shuddered, cowering behind Wilson and the scientist, at this point, just sighed.

“She won’t hurt anyone,” He explained. “I TOLD you she was here yesterday and you guys called me crazy.” He frowned. Wolfgang seemed unconvinced about this and kept crouching behind Wilson. The scientist inhaled and that turned into a loud sniff followed by sparse coughing. “So, er… I told ya so.”

“Wilson’s being truthful,” Wendy spoke in her airy voice for the first time that evening. “I summoned her. Her name is Abigail; she’s my sister. She won’t hurt anyone here,” She affirmed. “I had Wilson go with me to prove that I wasn’t planning on murdering anyone. People don’t like that,” She added. Willow didn’t say anything for a period, just playing with her hair with one hand and playing with her lighter in the other. Wolfgang still wasn’t swayed and kept his beady eyes on the ghost, shaking behind Wilson.

“. . .. HUMANS ARE WEIRD,” WX broke the silence. “WHERE DO WE SLEEP?” He asked, plowing through the awkward silence. “DO WE HAVE STRAW MATS?” Willow jumped and shook her head, bringing herself back to reality.

“Uh, we had a couple that we found but we ran out last night. But that’s what this puppy’s for,” She said, patting the science machine fondly. “So, er… Sniffles, how does this work?” She asked, looking to Wilson, who glared at her briefly. He rolled his eyes and turned with a little bit of difficulty as Wolfgang still wanted to make sure Wilson was between him and Abigail.

“Okay so you have to have the right number of parts,” He started. “If we wanted to make straw rolls, we’d need six units of cut grass and one unit of rope,” He explained. “But once we make one with the machine, we can make them wherever we go. Same thing applies to pretty much everything else. There’s a menu that lights up whenever you’re in close proximity to the machine and it’ll tell you what all you need to make something,” He concluded. “You feed the items to the machine up here—“ He pointed to the log on the top. “—Pull, the lever, then the prototype you make will appear somewhere around… here.” He motioned to the ground.

“THIS MIGHT BE A BAD TIME TO MENTION THIS,” WX called from over where Wendy and Abigail were. “BUT THE FIRE’S ABOUT TO GO OUT.” No sooner had he said that than there was a hiss and the company was thrust into pitch black darkness.

“WHAT?? Why didn’t you put something on the fire??” Willow cried, an implacable voice in the void. “Wait wait wait hang on, I can—“ Wilson heard noises for a moment but wasn’t sure if it was Willow or just him. Wolfgang tightened his grip on the scientist’s shoulders and Wilson winced, gritting his teeth. Then, as if the sudden stress of being in the darkness wasn’t enough, that familiar itch spiked into his sinuses and he had to cup his lower face in his hands quickly, not having the time to fish out his handkerchief.

Hck’tch! Ksh-h’KCHU! Hh-huh’tshh! –snf- Hh-hhh –snf- Hh’csh!

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Rang WX-78’s voice very suddenly and very loudly from somewhere to the left of Wilson. “ARE WE UNDER ATTACK?”

“No, we aren’t-- under attack,” Willow’s strained voice grunted with equal parts panic and frustration. “It’s just—“ There was a click and a small flame erupted from Willow’s hand and the little light revealed that the five of them were bunched up together in a tight circle; WX-78 had dragged Wendy over to the group, Wolfgang had since moved one of his arms instinctively to Willow’s shoulder and in the center was the sickly scientist himself, doubled over and barely aware of his surroundings at is point. “It’s just Wilson,” Willow finished her sentence in a grimace, unused to being around so many people so closely together, especially one who was sick but she was aware of their situation so she supposed she could let it slide THIS time. “Hey sickie,” She snarled. “You picked a REALLY bad time for that.”

“WHAT EVEN *IS* ‘THAT’?” WX asked, unaware that he didn’t need to be near the group for them to hear him speak very clearly; evidently ‘whispering’ wasn’t a thing robots did. “IT SOUNDS LIKE AN EXHAUST PIPE SPUTTERING.”

“Something like that. Hey listen up, whoever’s good with numbers and moon placement say how long it’ll be ‘til morning,” Willow bulldozed through the conversation. “Someone OTHER than snotface,” She added. Wilson would’ve glared at her had he not been caught in a whirlwind sneezing fit. It was awful; he could barely catch his breath between kittenish sneezes but no matter how much he did, it didn’t seem to alleviate the itch, the insects with their tiny barbs brushing against his nasal cavity.

No one said anything for a few minutes though the air wasn’t silent because of Wilson though WX opened his mouth as if he were about to but faltered, distracted by Wilson’s fit. Eventually, the scientist clamped a hand over his nose and took as deep breath as he could – the itch was still there and still terrible but as least he could see through tear-spiked eyes.

“It’s… almost th-there,” he gasped. “M-maybe ju-ust a few more m-minutes,” He pointed in the direction that the sun was about to rise in and he coughed out the last of the breath he was holding, still pinching his nose shut but he wanted nothing more than to just melt away and never be seen again. However, the scratching, freezing, itching urge threatened to overtake him again and he almost sank to the ground to avoid being part of the group huddle but managed to remain standing somehow, presumably thanks to Wolfgang’s sturdy hand on his shoulder.

Wilson’s calculations were right. Not five minutes later did the sun start to peek over the horizon, washing over the group in a soft dawn light. There was a collective sigh of relief as the tight bundle of people and robot fell apart like paper in water. Willow was the first to back away from everyone, keeping her lighter out but almost flinching away from Wilson, who had an intense look of concentration on his face to keep from sneezing. Wolfgang, though still somewhat afraid, was keeping a firm grip on Wilson to keep the skinny man from falling over. WX-78, in turn, crossed his arms and tapped his foot with evident impatience and Wendy quietly flitted behind Wolfgang and over to the campfire where she absently began to play in the ashes…. And then there was Abigail, who was certainly part of their circle though only two people knew about it and one of them suddenly remembered how that itch seemed so familiar.

Hh h’kch! snffffff

“C’mon, Abby,” Wendy cooed and the ghost oozed away from the science machine where Wilson and Wolfgang were standing and suddenly the tickle was gone… Well, gone enough though Wilson realized that that fit did his cold no favours. He groaned softly and, still covering his mouth and nose, withdrew his handkerchief and began tending to his sore face while Wolfgang kept a supportive hand on him. The latter had since straightened back up though he still clung close to Wilson as if the scientist was more capable of warding off any potential danger than the strongman.

“THAT WAS AWKWARD. I WILL PROCESS THIS UNANSWERED QUERY UNDER ‘THINGS HUMANS ARE TOO DUMB TO EXPLAIN’,” WX said loudly. “…THAT LIST IS STARTING TO BECOME EXPANSIVE.” Well, he had no shortage of sarcasm. “WHAT IS THE MAJOUR MALFUNCTION IN THIS GROUP ASIDE FROM ALL OF YOU BEING ORGANIC MATTER?”

“Man, you’re REALLY good at asking questions, aren’tcha?” Willow replied with her own supply of snark before yawning. “Man, I’m almost outta fire. Wolfgang and I were out ALL day,” She rubbed one of her eyes. “I dunno what you guys wanna do but I just want to take a mat and go to sleep all day. Take an off-day,” She said, starting to pull tufts of grass and a rope out of her inventory. As she approached the science machine and it slowly hummed to life, Wilson shakily stepped away from both it and the advancing woman. Willow noticed and gave a small sigh.

“I’m not… I wasn’t MAD,” She felt somewhat awkward and she rubbed one of her shoulders, avoiding Wilson’s cautious, but earnest gaze. Wendy looked up from her flower crown and glanced over at the exchange with vague interest. “I just… freaked out for a second. I guess. It was dark and everyone was suddenly in one place and I guess I just snapped. Maybe you should get some sleep, too,” She suggested, pouring the objects into the machine and pulling the lever. The machine whirred and out popped a neatly-wrapped straw bed roll, rolling on the ground briefly before coming to a halt. Willow reached down, swooped up the roll and held it aloft to Wilson. “Here. Uhm… good job on the machine,” She said quietly. Wilson lowered the handkerchief and carefully took the roll and a faint, watery smile crossed his face.

“Everyone, stick around the camp today. We’ll get a proper start tomorrow but I think everyone should just chill out and find something to do here,” She instructed; she forgot she was kind of the impromptu leader of the group. “And, uh… tomorrow, you better get to work on an alchemy engine,” She said, pointing to Wilson matter-of-factly. “Just ‘cuz I’m goin’ nice on you today doesn’t mean you get to slack of, sick or no,” She regained her old attitude and this was the point where she would’ve flicked him on the nose but after what happened last time and even last night, she wasn’t ready to take the gamble that he would handle it well. “And screw what they say about ‘sharing is caring', don’t go spraying your gross germs everywhere tomorrow. Or… ever.” Wilson gave her a look complete with quirked eyebrow. “Yeah yeah, I know, I know. Just… shut up,” She said and turned abruptly, her skirt and pigtails swishing behind her. “And also,” She said loudly. “No one bug Wilson today. Just let him sleep. Everyone leave everyone alone. This especially applies to YOU, metal head,” She shot WX-78 a look as she spoke.

“I DON’T GET IT,” He replied. “NO ONE ANSWERS MY QUESTIONS ANYWAY SO I MIGHT AS WELL NOT ASK.”

“MAYBE we don’t answer your questions because—“ As Willow and WX-78 presumably got into another verbal scuffle, Wilson’s tired mind steadily tuned them out. Wolfgang released his grip on the scientist and the latter uncoiled the mat, dropped it onto the ground at his feet, and proceeded to shakily collapse on it, quickly losing his embarrassment, weakness and paranoia to the sleep he hadn’t gotten sufficiently since falling ill in the first place.

Edited April 22, 2016 by Red Ring of Death

[IcyFlame]

Oh my god what a treat this was. I have been so stressed out with home improvement projects and school assignments and I haven't had much free time as a result. Needless to say I cannot even begin to express how much this made my day, and I will be back once I finish a project I have due tomorrow to comment properly. I just thought I should let you know I read it and LOVED it.  

[Enfy]

WOW!

I would've replied sooner, but I'm new to the forum. I was so pleasantly surprised to find a Don't Starve piece on here, especially a Wilson-centric one! Squeal! I absolutely adore this fic and can't wait for more!

Thanks so much for writing this!

[Red Ring of Death]

1. Welcome to the Forum, enjoy your stay and may you keep your wits about ya~

2. Thank you guys so much for the positive feedback~ If there's even one person aside from me who reads this, I'm amazingly surprised and TWO people have so it's like Christmas in here! It means a lot to me so thanks, guys~