Tides of Longing (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

4- Speak

Author's Note: The art for this chapter is by Startistdoodles. The art within is by Slipnslideblog (Silver). Both are dear friends of mine <3

__________________________________________

"For since I came to Pharaoh to speak in thy name, he hath done evil to this people; neither hast thou delivered thy people at all."– Exodus 5:23

__________________________________________

There was one thing Joey said that would haunt her forever. More than knowing he was alive. More than knowing that he was the one that did this to them- to her. More than knowing that he couldn't fix it no matter how hard he tried...and that he'd been trying for almost a century.

"Has anyone ever...been able to leave?"

After an eternity of silence standing along the shores of ink- the quiet, vast puddle of spirits lost to the ink machine- Francine had finally spoke. His hand still in hers, she blinked and turned her head to look at the founder of purgatory.

And she could feel him tremble slightly, uncontrollably, limp in her grasp.

And he couldn't make himself look back at her.

...Either that or Joey was putting all his concentration into assuring he would not.

Francine saw his free palm come to hold the brim of his hat, fingers clasping it, and the ginger old man let its shade fall over his eyes.

She could still spot a gleam from this shadow that masked him, the glistening ink upon two circles of glass.

"No."

And it was almost indescribable how much a single word said and felt to their ears. Unbelievable the drop in her chest, the loss of something inside her she couldn't name.

"But that doesn't mean we still can't hope, dear...!"

And a grimace of a smile had forced its way up his lightly wrinkled face. He still wouldn't look, but his voice, unlike before, allowed a bit of the optimism he used to embody to return...if only as an impossible dream to keep them from plummeting into despair for who knows how long to come.

"There will always be a reason to, you know. Otherwise..." A meaningful pause drifted the air. "...I don't think you'd ever be here."

Was it genuine hope, or just an attempt to console a woman who now knew that which had taken everything from her? She couldn't discern, and so Francine was left only to stare; the lull of a gentle, half-lidded expression that washed over her face still wasn't enough to pull Joey's gaze back in.

And he slowly but abruptly shifted his feet to turn around so the tides barely lapped at his heels instead of his toes. His hand slipped out of hers to do so and Francine, even in the exhaustion of revelation, managed to follow suit to gaze upon-

"The ink demon..." As Joey addressed the beast that watched over them, the dark being remained silent. Even his watercolor aura- the stains of grey that swirled around him like he was a drop of paint in a room full of water- had constricted. He did not drip. He merely watched.

And as Francine finally pried her eyes away to look at the man that had summoned agony incarnate, she saw that he was watching the demon back.

The tip of his brim lifted alongside an upturn of his chin, the artist of short stature looking up to this hellish cartoon. His eyes now unobscured, she witnessed them narrow again- a piercing gaze at that which imitated his most beloved creation...but certainly was not what his pen had intended.