“Rise and shine~...”
“Ah... what is this?”
Shroomsworth found himself in an expanse of darkness, as far as he could tell. Before him, two greenish-blue gems materialized, followed quickly by the purple form of a rather familiar Sableye.
“You... what are you doing... here? Where is here, even?” Shroomsworth asked with confusion.
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re still unconscious. It’s not as though I am unable to speak to you at such a time. In fact... it’s easier than ever, really.” Devonshire began to pace around in a circle around Shroomsworth, forcing him to focus as the ghost-type moved through the pitch blackness around him.
“My sources tell me you took quite the tumble off of a cliff with Slasher. It certainly didn’t work out well for you, but it seems it worked out even worse for him,” Devonshire nearly taunted, with a matching chuckle.
“Spare me your toying. I’ve had enough of that. What do you want from me?” Shroomsworth was straight to the point. He had gone through too much to have patience for this.
Devonshire’s pacing stopped, and he simply shook his head. “You have it all wrong, mushroom. I am approaching you with gratitude.” The Sableye walked closer to Shroomsworth, holding out one of his hands as he explained, “Slasher has been one of the most troubling problems for the Rogues, and he always avoids us when we seek him out. You managed to goad him into making himself vulnerable just one time, and he paid the ultimate price. It’s poetic, really.”
“I did not goad anything. My life was nearly taken.” Within his subconscious, Shroomsworth could only feel his perspective shift, and nothing else, really. It was a strange way to actually have a conversation with someone.
“Unfortunate. Slasher was once one of our own, and thus I am somewhat responsible that you and your guild had to do all of our work for us in dealing with him.” Devonshire’s hands returned behind his back, once again at ease. “I care not to give your partner even the time of day, but... I know your situation. I left something for you in your room. Consider it a gift to make us even. No strings attached.”
Before Shroomsworth could respond, he was forced awake. Thankfully, he was in much, much less pain than he remembered being in the last time he was awake.
It was the dead of night once again. The only light shone in through his window, though the sill of it was covered in snow, and there seemed to be a flurry going on outside. His own body was a bit cold, not under the sheets. There were a few bandages in spots that pained him. Most importantly, a splint over his left leg. It really was broken.
Before the sinking realization could take hold, Shroomsworth noticed something shining in what light there was through the window. Careful of his patched-up leg, he sat up and went to inspect it. If it was something that Devonshire himself left in his room, it was important to know, for better or worse.
Third part to the epilogue of Resignation by
Another single layer experiment with limited colors.