"I think it's interesting," Skulduggery said to Gabe with a Look only the Archangel would have understood while trying the pawnshop back door, "that you only seem to agree you're hurt when you find something amusing." The door was, of course, locked, and Skulduggery didn't have his lockpicks with him - or anything that might suffice as one. "Fletcher, would you mind picking something up at my house for me?"
A minute later, Fletcher had Teleported away with clear instructions on where to find Skulduggery's lockpick set. Skulduggery had made sure to thank the teenager, tried not to hide the fact that he was genuinely grateful. And Gabe was right; Fletcher did respond well to it. The whole thing was markedly satisfying and refreshingly simple. And after everything that had happened, Skulduggery needed simple.
"It may not be the most elaborate disguise, but it does what it's designed to do," Skulduggery defended himself once Fletcher had vanished. He was purposely ignoring the comment about taking a cab, because the idea was already depressing enough to think about. "Valkyrie's the only one who seems so concerned about people staring. I thought it was a mortal trait, but Fletcher doesn't seem to mind. Have you noticed his hair?"
~~
"... No." No, Skulduggery had done none of that. Almost a century since the end of the war, and Ghastly had never even suspected Skulduggery might be an ambidextrous sorcerer - and Ghastly knew how addictive powerful magic like Necromancy could get, probably better than most. Hell, Skulduggery had given up his family crest. It was one of the first things he did when he reappeared. He'd been lighter, more relaxed, able to joke again, but with a disturbing undercurrent of doubt and uncertainty that Ghastly had never been able to place.
Until now, obviously.
And although Dad couldn't possibly have any clue what he was talking about... he hit it. Right on the head of the nail. Exactly what had snapped Skulduggery out of being Vile? Stopped him from ever using Necromancy again, after five years of being one of the most powerful sorcerers the world had ever seen?
If Dad was right, it was them. The Dead Men. A world free of the threat of the Church of the Faceless. But no, it couldn't be that simple. Couldn't be. Vile was one of Mevolent's Three Generals. It would have taken a lot more than a stray thought to convince Vile to stop killing people.
To convince Skulduggery to stop...
Ghastly couldn't finish the thought, and so he finished his glass instead. Angrily and guiltily, because he knew he shouldn't still be struggling with this. It should be simple. Skulduggery wasn't Vile anymore. Skulduggery was Ghastly's friend. What Ghastly should do was ask Skulduggery himself. Sit down, get the whole story, try very hard to understand.
Fail to understand. Argue. Maybe fight again. Stop fighting the instant Ghastly remembered exactly who he was fighting. Start the whole bloody process all over again. It was inevitable and maybe even necessary, but Ghastly just wished there was a way to bypass it. Bypass everything. Suck the knowledge from his brain so he didn't have to deal with it anymore.
"He killed my mother," said Ghastly quietly. "Almost killed me. And you're saying I should pretend he had no control over it? Be happy he feels guilty? And forgive him?"
How much control did Skulduggery have over it? Back when it happened? Did he make a conscious decision to abandon them? Make a conscious decision to join Mevolent? How much control did he have now, especially after a year of torture?
One more sip, and Ghastly decided to just stop thinking. It was getting in the way, and it wasn't getting him anywhere.
no subject
A minute later, Fletcher had Teleported away with clear instructions on where to find Skulduggery's lockpick set. Skulduggery had made sure to thank the teenager, tried not to hide the fact that he was genuinely grateful. And Gabe was right; Fletcher did respond well to it. The whole thing was markedly satisfying and refreshingly simple. And after everything that had happened, Skulduggery needed simple.
"It may not be the most elaborate disguise, but it does what it's designed to do," Skulduggery defended himself once Fletcher had vanished. He was purposely ignoring the comment about taking a cab, because the idea was already depressing enough to think about. "Valkyrie's the only one who seems so concerned about people staring. I thought it was a mortal trait, but Fletcher doesn't seem to mind. Have you noticed his hair?"
~~
"... No." No, Skulduggery had done none of that. Almost a century since the end of the war, and Ghastly had never even suspected Skulduggery might be an ambidextrous sorcerer - and Ghastly knew how addictive powerful magic like Necromancy could get, probably better than most. Hell, Skulduggery had given up his family crest. It was one of the first things he did when he reappeared. He'd been lighter, more relaxed, able to joke again, but with a disturbing undercurrent of doubt and uncertainty that Ghastly had never been able to place.
Until now, obviously.
And although Dad couldn't possibly have any clue what he was talking about... he hit it. Right on the head of the nail. Exactly what had snapped Skulduggery out of being Vile? Stopped him from ever using Necromancy again, after five years of being one of the most powerful sorcerers the world had ever seen?
If Dad was right, it was them. The Dead Men. A world free of the threat of the Church of the Faceless. But no, it couldn't be that simple. Couldn't be. Vile was one of Mevolent's Three Generals. It would have taken a lot more than a stray thought to convince Vile to stop killing people.
To convince Skulduggery to stop...
Ghastly couldn't finish the thought, and so he finished his glass instead. Angrily and guiltily, because he knew he shouldn't still be struggling with this. It should be simple. Skulduggery wasn't Vile anymore. Skulduggery was Ghastly's friend. What Ghastly should do was ask Skulduggery himself. Sit down, get the whole story, try very hard to understand.
Fail to understand. Argue. Maybe fight again. Stop fighting the instant Ghastly remembered exactly who he was fighting. Start the whole bloody process all over again. It was inevitable and maybe even necessary, but Ghastly just wished there was a way to bypass it. Bypass everything. Suck the knowledge from his brain so he didn't have to deal with it anymore.
"He killed my mother," said Ghastly quietly. "Almost killed me. And you're saying I should pretend he had no control over it? Be happy he feels guilty? And forgive him?"
How much control did Skulduggery have over it? Back when it happened? Did he make a conscious decision to abandon them? Make a conscious decision to join Mevolent? How much control did he have now, especially after a year of torture?
One more sip, and Ghastly decided to just stop thinking. It was getting in the way, and it wasn't getting him anywhere.