AO3: ghoulfern
goodreads: lilghoul
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graphic design work paintings writings?
AO3: ghoulfern
goodreads: lilghoul
graphic design work paintings writings?
George stands before him in the doorway, like a gangly, terrible ghost. His face is heinously pale, which makes the dark bags under his eyes pop in a way that is altogether unflattering, and he wears only a large, striped sweater and a pair of boxers with bats on them. His hair is much longer than it had been last time Harry had seen him, and it’s pulled back into a loose knot. “Harry,” he says, and it comes out breathlessly.
“George.” Harry stands there, wholly encapsulated by familiar heartache just at the sight of his friend. His eyes flick past him to investigate the flat. Clothes and dirty dishes are strewn all over the living room and, if he’s not mistaken, there are at least three pairs of underwear hanging from the ceiling fan. He glances back at George, who is now leaning against the doorway staring at him, expressionless. Harry clears his throat. “I, um… came for a visit. Sorry.”
He glanced around the bar, not lingering too long on any one person for fear of what, he still didn't know entirely. He’d been discovering punishments steadily on his journey here and expected several more. The people out in the world weren’t particularly friendly. It was best to be cautious; but he was curious, too, always on the run for more knowledge of something he’d been so determinedly refused. It was something he couldn’t help.
At last his slow gaze alighted on a ghoul at the far side of the bar, perhaps the tallest person he had ever seen, cloaked half in shadow. He was smoking a cigarette, his severe face bored and blank, carefully trained on no one, but nevertheless clearly trained.
Silas lost himself, watching this man for a beat too long, because as he was trying to locate the man’s eyes in the darkness, they found him first, striking him, and he looked away quickly, on animal impulse. His heart began thumping madly.
“It was an accident,” Noah insisted, feeling more and more embarrassed every moment he was in this tent. “I’m not usually so stupid, but I…” He trailed off, but Arcade was watching him intently, and he found himself continuing: “I was in an abandoned apartment complex, way out west. Wasn’t hearing anything unseemly, and figured I could scavenge…” He bit his lip, looking away. “I got distracted by an Agatha Christie novel. Idiot.” He laughed ruefully, looking at his massacred arm. “It was all curled up in one corner–-the book-– and I was so enamored, I didn’t even notice the nest.”
“Did you get the book?” Arcade asked. Noah looked back at him.
“Did I…?” He blinked, then smiled bemusedly. He felt something leap in his chest, alive and vital. “Yeah, I did.”