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#ah well. witness the joy of Tiny Painting Frog
victorluvsalice · 5 years
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Valice Shipping Week, Day Five: Joy
Moving onto the opposite prompt from yesterday, and into the relatively new Lovecraft Jazz verse! You know, that one where there’s cultists and Deep Ones and Eldritch Horrors, but to balance things out in a small way Emily, Bonejangles, and Lizzie are all among the living. I figured I ought to do something with it for this week, and this is the prompt that got the honors. Though weirdly, the story ended up focusing a bit more on yesterday’s prompt, grief. . .don’t worry, though, the ending is all joy. We come in during Victor’s time trapped in Y'ha-nthlei with Siren, a friendly Deep One who’s decided she’s his “wifey.” She’s just heard a noise outside their hidey-hole, and is going to investigate. . .
"You – stay." One clawed, webbed finger poked him in the chest. "Safe here. Staaaaay."
Victor held up his hands. "I'm staying."
Siren favored him with one of her toothy grins, then loped over to the door. She pushed it open a crack, stuck her head through, looked both ways. . .then, satisfied, nodded and slipped out. Victor sighed as the door swung shut behind her. "I'm staying," he repeated softly to himself. "Where else could I possibly go?"
Sighing heavily, he flopped over, spreading himself across the wide step and staring up at the glass (he assumed) ceiling. Above him, the deep ocean currents seethed, the swirling water a darker blue than any midnight sky. Here and there, little specks of light revealed odd creatures swimming about, searching for their next meal like predatory stars. It was – strangely beautiful, if he was honest with himself. The sort of thing that made him miss his oil paints and canvas. Too bad he'd had to leave those back –
No. He wouldn't dignify the Van Dort mansion with the word "home" anymore. Not after. . .he gritted his teeth, fighting back the tears. He'd always known his parents didn't much care for the son they'd gotten. Struggled mightily to make him over in the image of the ideal child they'd dreamed up before his birth. But – but he'd never imagined that they would. . .Fath – William might have claimed it was for the best, that this way they all stayed alive, but Victor knew the truth. He and Nell had been so desperate to save their own skins that they were only too willing to sacrifice their son. And, indirectly, all of his friends as well. . .
His friends. Damn it, what had happened to Lizzie, Sam, Victoria, Emily, and – and Alice? Had they been caught? Run down by the cultists? Dragged back to join Bumby and the Everglots as fodder for that awful ritual? Or had they escaped? Made it to that meeting point? And in that case. . .what had the others said when Alice showed up alone? He'd left that note, but. . .did they have any inkling of what had happened to him? Or – or did they think he'd abandoned them to save himself? No, Victoria at least had to know him better than that. . .he hoped. . . He shut his eyes, picturing the ragtag group before him. Funny how being apart from them hurt so much. The only one he really knew was Victoria, and even then, all attempts at real conversation had been stifled by the incessant hovering of their parents. (At least they were free of that now. . .) Emily and Sam he knew mostly by reputation and village gossip, and of course the Liddell sisters he'd only met. . .two days ago? Three? Felt more like months. . . Which probably explains a lot, he decided with a tiny smile. Running for your life with someone can't help but bring you together very quickly.
"You go that way! I'll distract them, lead them off!"
"What – no! Victor–"
"One of us has to make it to the meeting point! I am very good at running from people!"
"Victor, please–"
"I'll be fine! Go! Find your sister! I'll catch up!"
The smile vanished. Victor opened his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. Speaking of which. . .what had become of Alice? He wanted to believe she'd made it away from the cultists, found Lizzie and the others. . .but his mind kept teasing him with darker thoughts, terrible images of her stretched across an altar and gutted while robed figures chanted horrible, mind-twisting words. . .the agony of her flesh nothing compared to the terrors ripping at her soul. . . He clapped his hands over his face, shaking his head. No. No, that couldn't be her fate. She was tough – much tougher than he was. A fighter to the very end. And she had her knife, and her wits, and – and those gorgeous green eyes, and that beautiful smile, and he really, really didn't want his last memory of her to be her terrified face receding into the distance. . . Brilliant timing, Victor, he thought, biting his lip. Finally admit to yourself you've got a thing for her – when you don't know if you'll ever see her again. He let his hands fall back to the floor. "Please," he whispered to whatever gods might be listening. "Please, just – just make sure she's safe. Please."
"Vicky! Vicky!"
The door abruptly burst open, and Siren barreled in with something – no, someone slung over her shoulder. Victor sat up just in time for the unfortunate figure to be dumped in his lap. "Vicky!" she repeated, bouncing like an overly excited frog. "Lookit!"
"What?" Victor blinked, trying to make sense out of the sudden shift. "Siren, who–"
"Victor!"
Strong arms flung themselves around him, and a familiar head of dark hair buried itself into the crook of his neck. "Damn it, I thought. . .I thought for a second you were. . .that I was. . ." She lifted her head, and the most gorgeous green eyes in the world gazed up into his. "When we learned what your bloody parents did. . .are you all right?"
The sun plunged into this hellish abyss, flooding it with light. "Alice. . ." Without even thinking about it, he crushed his lips against hers. After a startled squeak, she responded in kind, pulling him down with her fingers tangled in his hair. "Oh Alice," he breathed once they separated again, faces flushed and mouths swollen. "I'm fine."
Alice smiled. "After that? Yes, you must be."
"Yay!" Fish scales pressed against his cheek as Siren flung her arms around them, inserting herself into the embrace. "Vicky and Ally! Husband and wifey!"
The look of absolute bafflement on Alice's face must have rivaled his own when he'd first woken up here. "Ah – er – what???"
Victor laughed. "That's not quite how marriage works, Siren," he said, patting her befinned head fondly. "Though I don't know the customs down here. . .Alice, may I introduce you to Siren," he added, turning back to his love. "She's – uh – well. I seem to find myself married. And you should know it's unexpected."
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