Quackity from Las Nevadas

i left you somethin', outside your old house. just... get to it when you get the chance.

[quackity lingers. he isn’t really sure why. he is alive, dreadfully, terribly so, and yet, as his hands press the chest closed, ghosting over the wood, he’s started to feel like he’s haunting the place. 

[the sight of him sends an ache in her chest, one that spirals down her arms and into her bones with the need to just hold him.]

oh- [he runs his hand through his hair.] yeah. ‘course you did! course you did. 

[he looks so worn thin, he could be mistaken for translucent. wilbur stares at that ghost of a grin, looks at him fading in plain sight, and she simply can’t take it anymore- she cups his face in her hands, stroking his cheek with her thumb and tucking his hair behind his ear.]

[he’s struck silent, for a heartbeat. and then his head twists one way, cheek pressing into her palm, then the other, a shake of his head as he grabs her wrists and pulls her away.]

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

Well yes, I’m a ghost but-

(She nods sadly.) Right. As all things… do.

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

Well yes, I’m a ghost but-

i left you somethin', outside your old house. just... get to it when you get the chance.

[quackity lingers. he isn’t really sure why. he is alive, dreadfully, terribly so, and yet, as his hands press the chest closed, ghosting over the wood, he’s started to feel like he’s haunting the place. 

[the sight of him sends an ache in her chest, one that spirals down her arms and into her bones with the need to just hold him.]

oh- [he runs his hand through his hair.] yeah. ‘course you did! course you did. 

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

Well yes, I’m a ghost but-

i left you somethin', outside your old house. just... get to it when you get the chance.

[quackity lingers. he isn’t really sure why. he is alive, dreadfully, terribly so, and yet, as his hands press the chest closed, ghosting over the wood, he’s started to feel like he’s haunting the place. 

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

Well yes, I’m a ghost but-

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

Well yes, I’m a ghost but-

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

Well yes, I’m a ghost but-

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

Well yes, I’m a ghost but-

you got mail. funny enough, you're not really there to read it, but i guess it's the thought that counts. hahah.

...what..? eret-

i'm sorry about the short notice, i have to- i need to get to the castle. eret's funeral.

you don’t have to. this is-

i didn’t really... know them, wilbur. it feels-

[there is a loud crash against the roof of the needle, in las nevadas, as a tall, winged creature seemingly collapses onto it.]

[quackity stumbles onto his balcony, wide eyed and shaking, his back pressing hard into the railing as he tries to figure out what the fuck could be on his roof. it’s a bit too large to be a bird, which meant. 

[the figure is a little slow to get on their feet, and they wobble dangerously as they stand, clutching at their head and mumbling something about crash landings. the wings unfurl momentarily, shaking themselves out, and wrap around the figure, who clutches their arms, continuing to mumble, before they look up and see quackity.]

[there’s a moment when quackity, a wild fanged thing, writhing in its anger, doesn’t recognize wilbur. there’s a moment when he grits his teeth- bares them- and raises his crossbow.

[wilbur blinks a few times, takes a step forward and does her best not to careen into the roof beneath her feet. she hastily scrubs at her eyes, wincing at the ache in her chest as she attempts to breathe normally.]

[he takes an uneven breath, trying to shrink back further- but he’s stopped in his tracks by the fact that he’d fall over the railing if he tried. there’s something clearly unfocused in his eye, but he blinks a few times and pushes through it.]

[she stumbles another small step forward- and bunny-hops down onto the balcony, grabbing the railing on her end to hold herself up as she sinks to the floor, leaning back, her eyes fluttering shut.]

[after a contest of strength between the thing chanting ‘trust wilbur’ and the other thing singing ‘don’t trust wilbur’ on his shoulders, he groans, fisting his free hand in his hair before shaking it out and darting forward to grab her arm.]

[she stares at him for a moment, awestruck, before stumbling after him with all the grace of a newborn fawn, a part of her just reveling in the feeling of holding onto his hand again, grounding her into the present. her gaze remains on the line of his shoulders, drawn high and tense.]

[the door slams shut behind him, and he busies himself with locking it. a bit harder, with one hand, but there’s some paranoid fluttering thought that tells him wilbur will disappear once he lets go.]

[she flinches as the door slams, smaller than before, but still enough to make her heart race uncomfortably in her chest.]

that you’re here.