𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖘 - (Wilbur)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐

The castle without Tommy was quiet. There was no menace running around, pulling Inka to show her cool new things he had seen that no one else had the time to look at. He would pull her along and show her, she'd be amazed and listen to him talk about it for the next hour before he got pulled away or someone else joined. Mercury often said that Inka would be great with children, and though flattered, Inka felt the torment of those words. She wouldn't be taking care of them for long, she'd leave them to fend for themselves. It didn't hurt her: that was the norm of her species, but it didn't stop her from thinking it was a shame. She pondered if she had any siblings her mother may have given birth to before or after her, but it wasn't as if she could ask.

It had been a couple of months since Tommy's leave and the family was just as it usually was, moving on because Tommy was writing to them. It was charming, since Inka had seen Wilbur write letters to his father along with Tommy, Tubbo and Mercury watching, everyone sent their comments and remarks to the man. Now Tommy was doing the same in school, which was wonderful to see that he was following in the footsteps of his brother.

Speaking of his brother, Wilbur was gradually seen less and less by the nymph. Over the weeks and eventually the months, Wilbur began appearing in their spot less and less. It got to a point where Inka simply wasn't going to the castle anymore, she wasn't even going to where she would meet up with Wilbur because no one would be there. Her days grew to feel numb but she only had herself to blame, she had gotten used to human contact and not being alone, to the point where she didn't know what to do with the extra solitude she had.

In frustration for herself, she kicked about a rock, admiring the new, white bandages which covered her feet. There was nothing for her to do, not without Wilbur, who would write a song with her. She decided she may as well write her own song, after all, she had the time. And what should have been about?

Partially, she wanted it to be about love. But a sadder song felt more fitting. And then she realised she didn't have the energy for that either.

There was one thing she could do, she knew she wouldn't get over it and she knew she'd be invested in it for a while. Her poems and papers on Artenos and Apollyon. There was, miraculously, progress, she recalled one night as she slept, she reappeared in the ballroom and saw Apollyon with a baby in his arms. Inka peered closer with the man and nearly hugged him when she saw the red skin that was Artenos's. But she didn't, partly because the man was still a reminder that she was going to die, and also because he was holding a baby.

However, in her spare time, when she was in that plane of thinking where she could imagine the pair, she found joy in rocking Artenos, the silent baby with the mundane expression. Inka felt like a mother.

Which was probably not a good thing, well it could be, she wasn't sad when she left them. She knew it was going to happen and had come to terms that she would leave them. In fact she handled abandonment quite well, she had a grand time by herself on most days and those she met were often temporary. So why was she pained with the absence of Wilbur? She pushed it away and went to her bush, pulling the papers out and ordering them around to where she felt it best fit. She wanted to ask them for stories, but she also wanted to not make myths of them, she just wanted to better know them. Then again, if she knew their stories then in a way, she'd be closer to understanding them. Her internal conflict only fed by the images she had of the old Logic and her constant Mortality.

And the third one, Visitor, Fable, Amor or whatever Wilbur in her head was called, she hadn't a moment to write about him. She was scared to do so. When asking, Apollyon only stuck his hands up and claimed that he was the one that killed Artenos, not him. Which didn't make sense until Inka thought about it more. She did dance with Amor and suddenly, Artenos was dead. But that could be said for anything, anyone. If someone killed Inka because of Wilbur, was she killed by the one who brandished the knife or was she killed by Wilbur? A definitive answer was that the fates killed her. That was a better way of saying it - almost comforting. Since at the end of the day, it didn't really matter who killed who, the person was dead; they'll be fine.