Chapter Text
January 17th, 1945.
Aesop was still the newest resident of the manor.
It's been two months since he laid the man, his mentor, “Jerry Carl” to rest eternally.
And it's been nearly a month since he arrived at the manor.
He took Jerry's life with satisfaction, when that man no longer deserved to keep it. He reached the end of it, and yet chose to run from his own values and disobey his morals for a chance to live past his due date.
Aesop, with a sense of pride, was honoured to put an end to his life. The man who taught him everything, and in the end Aesop had the greatest mission of all;
To finalize his wishes, and to bring him to rest.
His first couple of weeks staying there had been dreadfully boring. Bleak. Nothing quite caught his interest. Not even another soul. Even by his own terms, it was a rather dreadful stay. No one intriguing, nothing even a little bit peculiar.
The only interesting occurrences that would happen would be the times when other residents would disappear with three others in tow, only for them to either all come back disheveled and injured, or for there to be at least one of them missing. Never to be seen again.
Occasionally, someone else would attempt to speak with him, strike up a chat. He only put in a few simple words, his voice quiet as he attempted to pull away from any conversations. He would give such miniscule and lackluster responses, attempting to bore them so they wouldn't find him worth their time, so they would leave him alone and no longer bother him.
He was never a big fan of attention, anyways. He much preferred his solitude, at peace with the dead; the quiet, an air of silence. He was terrible at small talk, and so he avoided it. Aesop would much rather keep it that way. The dead do not speak, so he does not need to learn much about talking with others.
Well, outside of convincing them to allow him to lull them into a permanent sleep, that is. Maybe it was wrong to admit to something like this, but manipulation was something he tended to be… very skilled in. Thanks to Jerry.
His eventual blissful silence (minus the few attempts at small talk from others) was ripped away from him after about four weeks of having been there. Some… man, was hellbent on trying to start conversations with him. Though he was quite larger in build compared to Aesop, he lost a few inches on him in height. It was clear though that this man had likely worked intensive, hard labor, something Aesop hadn't ever really known a day of.
It was obvious to tell from his build— though, the majority of it went into his upper half.
The burns were also fairly intriguing, appearing to run along primarily his left side, right side seemingly pure of the scars. It was easy to tell with a glance at his arms and neck. Some kind of accident happened involving fire, clearly. But what on earth was he working to have burn scars so severe?
…Nevermind that, he was droning on to himself in his head about someone, when his entire goal was simply to stand by quietly and observe the people who also lived there. Scoping out who neared their time of departure.
He didn't really have much interest in communicating with anyone. They could do that amongst themselves, just not with him. He did not care much for this man, and he refused to give him the time of day to make him think that way.
The first few times, Aesop had chosen to outright ignore the other man. He would instead simply walk away from him, and only around the third time would he even really spare him any look longer than a glance. But, this man was incredibly persistent. Aesop would certainly give him that much. It seemed like he wasn't even close to giving up on trying to talk with him. Why, exactly— Aesop had no idea. He was just as lost as the next person was. After all, it seemed from his silent observations that this man— Norton, as he had learned his name was from listening in on conversations— was also an avoidant type of person. He was more willing to say hello's and good morning's than Aesop was, sure, but he clearly disliked talking to a mass majority of the people they were stuck with.
Eventually, “Norton” got a crumb of what he desired; Aesop gave him a simple greeting, before walking off once again, not looking back behind him. He heard a loud sound from behind him, assuming it was the frustrated noises of the other male. He almost stopped, almost turned around, because he almost felt a little bit bad for treating the other man so harshly.
…Oh, well. He did this to himself. He was the one persistently pursuing someone uninterested in conversation.
Aesop walked off, headed towards his room, provided for his stay.
January 24th, 1945.
Another week had gone by. Another failed attempt from Norton.
His final, failed attempt to be more exact. Aesop had walked off once again, right after only sparing a glance to the prospector. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the defeated, yet frustrated, look on his fellow resident's face. Aesop nearly had half a heart to pity him, but he wasn't really one to hand such a thing out. He shook his head, before walking off completely, leaving a seething man behind him.
He aimed to head back to his room, just like last time, walking down one of the long hallways to reach his bedroom door. He was feeling exhausted that day, and was eager to rest. His hand touched his doorknob, before stopping, not turning it. He heard a couple of voices coming from the room beside him.
He wouldn't call himself particularly nosey, especially not when it came to private conversations, but there was a specific name mentioned within a sentence that had his curiosity caught in a mousetrap.
Norton.
He would be damned to hell to admit that maybe he was a little curious about him. His persistent personality earned him that much, anyways… It wouldn't hurt to listen in on the conversation. Just for a minute…
He quietly snuck his way over to the door, checking to make sure no one was nearby to see that he was about to do the exact opposite of minding his own business. He placed his finger tips on the wooden door gently, breathing softly as he put his ear against it to listen in on the conversation.
“Hm, yeah I have noticed he's been a bit more moody as of recent.” A voice he didn't quite recognise… It had an accent to it that made it clear she wasn't originally from the UK. At least, that's what he figured anyway. He wasn't too sure of who that first speaker was.
“He has a habit of being moody in general, but he's usually a lot nicer despite that. Just avoidant of everyone. It's kind of odd… What's got his britches in a bunch, do you think, Patricia?” Aesop definitely recognised that voice—
Fiona. Fiona Gilman. And if the other woman had the first name “Patricia,” then she must've been Dorval. The Enchantress.
Okay, maybe he had a habit of eavesdropping on people a bit more than he would be willing to admit.
But why were they discussing Campbell’s attitude? Was it just the typical gossiping among girls he had heard of through his childhood?
“Mmm, well, I don't really have a good answer to that. Maybe it's something to do with his past? Do you believe that he might be having some troubles with his “shell shock”?”
“Shell shock?”
“I heard that's what he has. Through the grapevine.”
Aesop almost felt guilty for being nosey in another man's business. Especially when it was between two strangers who probably weren't close enough to him to be discussing his past. But he was curious,
“Ah, wait… Could it be that new guy? Apparently, a couple of people have seen Norton actually making an effort to talk with that man. It struck me as odd. I kind of don't believe it.”
“Really? Campbell, talking to anyone else? Willingly??? I have my doubts. That man can barely even hold a conversation on his own. How does he expect to do that with another person who is just as— No, maybe even more avoidant, than he is?”
“That's what I thought! It sounds ridiculous, if you ask me. He does the most to sidestep out of any conversation he can. It makes you wonder what it is he's after, exactly.”
“Maybe he is just as intrigued by that man as the rest of us. From the moment he stepped through those doors, he decided to make it his own personal mission to ignore everybody…” a pause, “You never know the reason why. We've all got our skeletons in the closet. Especially Campbell.”
“He's scared of the dark, I somehow doubt a guy like that has much to hide.” Giggling from the women followed immediately after that sentence.
Aesop pulled his ear away from the door, taking a moment to stare at the floor in contemplation. He decided that he had heard enough from the two ladies. Snooping in on women's business wasn't very tasteful of him, anyways.
He very carefully backtracked away from the door, back to the one that led to his own bedroom. Opening the door and closing it behind him, he locked it as well, slouching and breaking his posture. He wasn't the biggest fan of disturbances.
Aesop stared down at the floor for a moment, contemplating what he had just heard. His fingers twitched, grazing the aged wood of the door. His eyes trailed up, meeting himself in the reflection of a mirror directly across from himself.
He looked tired. Maybe even a little bit miserable. All of the sounds he had to endure from the living all day wore him out to exhaustion, he swore.
Straightening his posture back up, he began his walk towards the vanity. Hooking his fingers around the secured hair tie, he pulled it away, allowing long strands of silver hair to move freely with him.
In front of the vanity, he pulled the cloth mask off of his face, setting it down alongside the hair tie. He always felt like a part of him was missing when he didn't wear it. A piece of cloth, and yet it still held a surprising amount of sentimental value for him.
He carefully looked himself over in the mirror, observing his face, eyeing the slowly forming eye bags. It was difficult getting any sleep. He still wasn't particularly adjusted to his new surroundings. He wasn't a big fan of changes like this— living somewhere completely opposite of what he was typically used to.
“Perhaps…” Aesop spoke softly, dragging himself away and beginning to unbutton his gray jacket, “...I will bathe, and then, I will make an attempt to get better rest.”
He folded the jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair as he made his way to the bathroom so graciously provided in the bedroom. If he had to use a public one, he would be incredibly miserable about it.
Who knows what kind of filthy germs from the living were festering in there?
February 1st, 1995.
Time flies fast.
Aesop was caught by surprise when he was called upon to participate in “a match.” He didn't particularly know what they were, but his assumption was that it had something to do with the ones who came out injured sometimes. And the ones who didn't come out.
He began making his way there, wondering who the other three that would be participating along with him were. He stepped through a large doorway, eyeing a decently long table with six chairs present. Implying there was likely more than four participants present within a match at once, long ago.
He took a random seat. Two other people were already there, and he sat and twiddled with his thumbs anxiously. He could barely remember the names of these two, sleepless nights will do that to you.
Finally, the fourth participant made their way into the lobby. And judging by the sound and weight of those footsteps, it was likely a familiar face. Aesop was right, he noticed as soon as Norton Campbell took his seat right beside him.
Aesop glanced at him from the side, only to find the other man completely ignoring his existence, instead staring at the plate of food on the table in front of him. Aesop chose to look away, staring straight ahead.
And then he blinked.
And he was somewhere completely different. A place that was definitely nowhere near the manor. Unrecognisable, Aesop realised he had no idea where he was. Or, what he was even supposed to be doing.
One of his “teammates” nervously approached him, but quickly took to guiding him on what to do. Providing Aesop with a basic rundown and explanation, before hurrying off to someplace else.
Aesop found himself standing in front of a ‘cipher machine,’ staring it down in contemplation. In the distance, he heard something that sounded akin to shouting. He hadn't really heard him yell before, but Aesop could only assume that it was that Campbell.
Slowly, he stepped away from that cipher, before making his way over to the direction where the shouting had initially come from. He hid himself behind one of the numerous nearby walls, and peeked out from behind it.
There, he saw Norton. And his eyes widened, though he couldn't say for sure what it was about the situation that made him so surprised.
It was a lot of different factors that had him enamored by the display before him.
There Norton was, running for his life from a man clad in white and gray, holding onto his side that was clearly injured. Even from a distance, it wasn't difficult to tell that he was surely sweating from the amount of effort he was putting into as he ran from the threat.
In his eyes, there was a mixture of a few different emotions. Determination to live stuck out like a sore thumb, but anger and fear definitely accompanied it. It was easier to tell with his expression. He feigned sole concentration on surviving, but it was so easy to tell that he was panicking. His panic would lead to a slip up, eventually.
Aesop's eyes followed the Prospector and his movements. He watched him throw down something that must've been a magnet, propelling the hunter away from him and into a nearby object. It seemed to catch the taller man off-guard, giving Norton more leeway to put distance between himself and the hunter.
Aesop noticed that Campbell had stopped for a moment, looking at his surroundings with a worried expression. Perhaps he had been staring a little too excessively, and the larger man had felt the Embalmer's eyes on him. But he could not find Aesop, and instead his worries went right back to the threat fast approaching from behind.
His slip-up, if you will.
Norton, in his distracted state, was caught off-guard this time by the taller man with an umbrella. His side was struck harshly by it, and Aesop's eyes widened with the wound. He watched, Norton fell to the ground, and the hunter stared at him for only a moment. He grabbed from the back of his button-up collar, dragging him towards what Aesop could only guess was the center of this place.
By the time the Embalmer had snapped out of it, his hand that gave him balance support was practically clutching onto the wall for dear life. Aesop quickly swung himself to hide fully behind the wall, leaning against it. He furrowed his eyebrows, putting a hand to his chest to confirm just how fast his heart was beating. Clutching his jacket, he came to a striking realisation;
Norton Campbell would look beautiful in death.
The match had ended sometime later, with everyone (including that Prospector) managing to make it out of the hellhole alive. Aesop observed the two injured teammates make their way into what must have been an infirmary, the other following closely behind Norton. But he only watched, not making a move to follow along. He wasn't injured, after all, as he made it a point to avoid the man with the umbrella.
Instead, Aesop chose to wait outside in the dark hallway, hiding himself behind a pillar with a vase sat atop of it. Staring down at his hands, he thought back to the match, and what happened with Norton while he was watching.
His body had subtle shakes of excitement, thinking about what he had the opportunity of witnessing. It almost felt intimate, seeing Norton Campbell so heavily injured and on the brink of death like that. His breathing labored, his side oozing out blood from torn flesh, how his black eyes—
Aesop snapped out of it. Blinking, he shoved his face into his hands, embarrassed. He hadn't ever experienced thoughts even remotely similar to those before, and he hated the fact that Norton Campbell was the man responsible for them now. He couldn't remember the last time he was so embarrassed by something. He was sure, that if he looked into a mirror, his pale face would be coloured with new shades.
Footsteps. Familiar ones.
Aesop looked up, peeking from the open space between the wall and the vase. It was Norton Campbell, clutching his side and gritting his teeth into a harsh frown. He seemed incredibly bothered by something, deep in thought. Aesop watched as the man went to turn, walk off, until he stopped dead in his tracks.
His head quickly turned around, fearful expression on his face as his eyes surveyed the dark hallway now before him. Aesop watched intently, wondering what it was that he was so afraid of.
Before he had any further time to wonder, however, Norton had closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before turning around to leave the area. Aesop tilted his head, confused by what he just witnessed. Was it like in the match? Could Norton just feel Aesop's gaze on him, like a fearful deer?
Norton had left, and Aesop decided to follow suit. He stepped from behind the pillar, careful not to knock the vase off of it. Brushing himself off out of habit, he made his way towards the direction that the Prospector had gone, only sparing a quick glance towards the inside of the infirmary.
Standing in front of an (unlit, he duly noted) fireplace, was the Prospector himself. He appeared to be spacing out, standing completely still aside from his breathing. Aesop slowly made his way towards him, careful not to disturb him from his thoughts.
That plan was quickly ruined when Norton seemed to have snapped out of his thoughts, turning his head to look back at Aesop. He looked surprised.
Stopping, the Embalmer hesitated approaching for a moment. He realised, he never really held much of a conversation before. What was he even supposed to say? ‘I saw you half-dead on what was essentially a battlefield and found you bleeding out attractive.’?
Norton quickly wiped the surprise off of his face, turning his head away to go back to staring at the fireplace. Sighing, Aesop acknowledged to himself that he needed to grow a pair and go talk to the idiot Prospector. He resumed his approach, clearing his throat before speaking,
“H…Hey,” Aesop nervously spoke, rubbing his thumb and index fingers together, trying to keep himself steady. He was ignored, treated with the same silence that he had given Norton many times before this moment. How ironic. He was certain that the Prospector was doing this on purpose,
“Tsk…” Aesop balled up his hands, moving swiftly to step between Norton and the fireplace that he was so, so interested in. Because clearly he lost his interest in Aesop and decided to place it elsewhere. Like an unlit fireplace,
“Oh, so now you suddenly want to talk to me?” The Embalmer heard the other man scoff, watching him cross his arms and turn his head away, as though he were disgusted by the very notion of having to even look at Aesop.
He felt an eye twitch in irritation for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. Calm yourself, he thought, and his expression relaxed itself. Back to the naturally dead and bleak tone,
“You…” Aesop started, before stopping. He didn't even know what he wanted to say. Why the hell did he even approach this man in the first place? What was even the point in this?
He inhaled, shakily, trying to calm himself enough to think of what to say to the other man. Now that he had him right in front of him. Now that he was standing still and, although he was pretending not to, was definitely paying attention. Because Aesop was giving him what he wanted,
“...You… Out there… You looked.. like you would look good in a coffin.”
Oh great. Way to fucking go.
Norton looked at him in shock, and Aesop had half a mind to reach out and strangle the other man to death so he wouldn't have an opportunity to tell anyone else about what a fucking embarrassment the words that just came from his mouth was. He squeezed his eyes shut, putting his head in his hands. He was mumbling something to himself, he couldn't even tell what his own words were but he was certain that he was calling himself an idiot somewhere in there,
“Oookaayy…?” Norton replied, backing up a bit with an expression that read that he was Definitely weirded the fuck out. And rightfully so. He cleared his throat, frowning,
“Look man you're into what you're into but keep that shit to yourself—”
“No, wait! I didn't mean that— I mean, I did mean that but not like— Um… Ugh!” Aesop threw his head in his hands again, gripping at his bangs in frustration. He heard footsteps, they were in front for only a moment before beginning to walk past him,
“Wait— Wait, where are you going?” He asked— no, demanded an answer from the Prospector,
“...To my room. Preferably away from you. It was my mistake trying to talk to you in the first place.”
Aesop's mouth hung slightly open in shock, though it was incredibly difficult to make that out. Norton turned around, continuing to walk back to his room. Aesop, with fists clenched, decided he wasn't going to give up. He could be persistent too.
By the time Norton reached his room, opened the door, and stepped inside, the Embalmer had caught up to him and put his foot in the way of the door to prevent it from closing properly. Norton sighed and stepped away from the door, watching it slowly open back up,
“What do you want… I told you I'd leave you alone, Embalmer, isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that why you threatened me just now??”
“What? No, no… I mean, yes and no. I did want to be left alone. But that wasn't a threat. It was, uh…” He nervously twiddled his thumbs. Norton narrowed his eyes, watching the anxious behaviour from the other man,
“...It was a slip of the ‘tongue.’ That's all.”
Norton threw his hat somewhere on the floor, and cocked an eyebrow at the taller man, “A slip of the tongue, huh? Sure as hell didn't sound like that's what it was,” he accused, squinting his eyes suspiciously at Aesop,
“Ohhh, but it was…” Aesop sighed, grumbling something in anger. His hands dropped back to his sides, “Forget what I said. And don't tell anyone about it.”
“Or what? You really will kill me?” Campbell scoffed,
“Maybe I will.”
The tension in the air was suddenly very thick. Norton felt concern for his own safety when he realised that the expression on Aesop's face read as him being completely and dead fuckin’ serious. His face fell into a worried frown,
“So you understand.” Aesop stated. It wasn't a question, nor an assumption, “Now then…” He slowly approached the Prospector, who was completely frozen in place by now, and stood only a foot away from him,
“...I was being honest. When I said that,” he started, eyes getting a better look at the other man, now that he had more time to pay attention to his appearance. His torso was covered in a lot of bandages, and there was a slightly thicker layer on his side that had been torn open,
“I meant, that when you die…” Aesop spoke slowly, eyes and mind focused too much on the side he had the pleasure to witness getting injured earlier. Before he really knew what was happening, his left hand reached out, and the overwhelming urges he had immediately took over.
Aesop Carl jabbed two of his fingers between the bandages that protected the wound on Norton's side, and the gasp that followed from the other man was enough to bring a blush to his face,
“Wh…! What the fuck— Aesop?!” The Embalmer ignored the Prospector's confused cries as he dug his fingers deeper into the wound. Fresh blood began staining the bandages, dying them a deep red. Norton's blood started seeping into Aesop's white glove as well, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to care about that at the moment,
“Gh! What the hell are you doing—” Aesop looked down at Norton's face, his eyes smiling. That look in his eyes could put any hunter to shame. His face quickly fell blank again though, as though it had a facade to keep up.
“...It feels good,” Norton's eyes slowly widened, “to be inside of you.”