Palette moved out to a little cabin in the woods to hone his skills as an artist. Three years into his seclusion, he stumbles across a red-scarved skeleton that changes his world.
Main story complete. May have bonus chapters written sporadically.
The featured song is 'Jane's Lament' by Kim Planert
Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse
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Goth's rage dissipated at the man's words. Tears threatened to leak from his sockets as he let his weapon dissolve into nothing, clutching his fists to his chest.
"We win," the man declared as his partners walking up behind Goth, grabbing his shoulders and pinning him to the ground. The smaller laid motionless under his captors, biting back a sob.
Goth... he's giving himself up. I can't let this happen! I said I wouldn't let the bad people take him back... I have to protect Goth!
Palette pulled on the man's arm, ramming his skull upward and into their chin. The action loosened their grip just enough for the artist to slip out and make a beeline for Goth.
I just have to get to Goth, then we can-
A thunderous boom shook the world into silence.
Goth screamed as Palette fell, a gaping bullet hole in his back. Crimson marrow bled into his shirt as he fought to move. The artist gasped when even the slightest movements sent pain surging through him.
The pain quickly began to dip into a numbing cold, creeping outward from the wound to consume him.
This drifting, hollow feeling... is this what dying feels like? The initial pain was horrible, but this... it's scary... like I'm steadily losing himself, plunging into a bottomless void with no hope of escape.
I... I can't die... not yet... Goth still needs me...
Looking up toward his companion, Goth was attempting to wrench himself from the men's grips, tears cascading down his face. With a deafening scream, his magic surged, pushing both men back.
Black wings quickly materialized as he rushed toward Palette with single-minded determination. Dropping next to the prone skeleton, his wings flared and his magic blazed as he poured magic into the wound, his soul shined brilliantly within his chest.
Palette looking up at him, feeling his breath hitch when he took in the smaller's appearance. "G... Goth... your...," he coughed weakly.
His right eye light's missing!
"Don't speak!" The small skeleton commanded sharply, his voice heavy with anguish. Palette felt a rush of giddiness as the magic began to take hold and heal the damage. Tears of relief dripped down Goth's cheeks.
"That is enough, my dear Angel. Come here."
Goth shuddered, his magic shorting out as his wings vanished like they never existed, his sockets voiding out. Palette shifted from under Goth's quaking hands to get a look at the newcomer... then wished he hadn't.
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
A balding middle-aged man in a long white coat was flanked by a group of soldiers in full armor, holding weapons trained on the pair. There had to be at least forty or fifty of them.
"Subject G01H, do not make me repeat myself," he barked.
With shaky hands, Goth reached for the hat still perched on his head. Pulling it down, he stared at it for a few seconds, new tears forming in his sockets, before placing the garment next to his companion.
Palette could almost read Goth's mind.
He knows we can't win against these odds. Trying would only guarantee death.
"B... bye Pa... Palette...I'll m... miss you...," Goth hiccuped, standing to comply with the old man's request.
"Ngh... no...," the artist tried to follow him, grasping his hat in the process, but his body refused to listen. By the time he'd even managed to get on his knees, Goth was already in front of the scientist.
The man roughly grabbed his chin, drawing out a whimper as they tilted it to inspect him, "Hmm... an eye is missing. That will need to be investigated once we return to the lab."
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black metal ring. Goth shuddered as the scientist popped the ring into two crescent halves and snapped, "Remove that filthy garment, it is in the way."
"Y... yes Pr... Professor," Goth stuttered, slowly unwinding his scarf with trembling hands. He clenched the fabric to his chest once it was free.
"Goth... run, please!" Palette called out, straining to stand, to crawl... anything!
"Your neck," the scientist prompted. Goth closed his teary sockets, leaning forward and tilting his skull up to present his bare neck obediently.
The small skeleton flinched when the metal snapped closed around his neck. For a moment, Palette thought that would be the end of it... but he was proven wrong as a surge of electricity ripped through Goth, sending him to the ground with a pained shriek.
"Stop it!" the artist screamed.
"Sufficient punishment for running away, I believe," the scientist mused as the electricity died away, leaving its victim in a twitching heap, gasping for air. The man turned toward two of the soldiers, "Pick them both up, we are returning."
"W... wait! No...," Goth protested, trying to pull himself up despite the numbness in his body, "... you can't-!"
A swift kick to the ribcage silenced the skeleton's words, replacing them with heaving coughs and wheezing.
Goth curled into a ball as if to shield himself from another blow.
"Leave him alone!" Palette cried out in indignation. The man ignored him as a soldier dragged the artist to his feet and jabbed a gun into his sore back.
"You will not tell me what to do, Subject G01H. I am the one in control here," the man growled, " It seems we will have to correct that deviant behavior you developed in your absence."
He turned once more to the soldiers, "We are leaving. Do not worry about injuring the subject if it struggles. It is quite durable."
Nothing more was said as Goth was picked up and thrown over a soldier's shoulder, all the fight drained out of him and replaced with grim resignation as Palette was urged to follow at gunpoint.
