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valkblue · 2 years

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Chapter 49 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 2.8K Rating: Mature Warning: Naked hosts (as in 'Cold Storage' naked, I mean), Wyatt Men from up close, smartassery and other shenanigans.

Author’s notes: Back in the MIB's POV... He needs a little time to reconsider his life choices.

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 49

Shouts and laughter preceded a gunshot that caused a thunderous roll of hooves and mooing. Sensations returned to William little by little and he winced, chin on his chest, his mouth dry. He gritted his teeth and grunted, trying to move his arms — that was where he was hurting the most.

His thoughts were confused, muddled, and hazy, and he wasted a solid minute wondering why his sharpest thought was an old song from 2012… Something that had been used in a movie. Or not… Everything was a blur again.

He could recognize the Sweetwater Hills, he could remember Teddy, and Lawrence… Anger brought him back to his senses and he glanced to his side for his weapons. But of course, the knife was gone, and so was the LeMat.

"Shit…"

And a queasy feeling made him clench his jaw. He definitely thought he was about to puke. With all the hits he had taken on the head these past few days, he didn’t have much doubt about having a commotion, at this point. If he wasn’t so afraid to throw up what he hadn’t eaten, he would have laughed about it! But William only tried to get out of the restraints that were tying his arms in his back, and around the wooden post he had been propped against.

On the small square between the house he could guess in his back and the wooden barn in front of him, there was a chaos of sounds and colors he assumed to be the hosts of Dolores' crew. Much more than the ten or so who had come to grab him in those same hills, earlier this morning.

By the way, what time was it now?

Judging by the position of the sun, pfff… If he hadn’t gotten an umpteenth blow to the head, William could have told, and would have been more likely to give a shit about it!

But for now, he was hurting too bad. And the pain in his whole right side made him draw a sharp breath, raising his head to face the morning sun, blinking behind the big oak’s twisted branches. William groaned his pain and frustration, and tried to bring his arms closer to him to free himself from this position but, as he expected, they were securely tied behind his back — nothing to do with the bogus knots he had to free himself from up until not so long ago.

He had no trouble recognizing the place; he was sitting under the porch of the Abernathy Ranch, on the extension of the wooden terrace on which he scraped the heels of his boots while trying to straighten up a little, resting his back against the post. The pain in his right shoulder pinned him in place, short of breath, and William didn't push.

In fact, it wasn’t just his arms, he was literally hurting from head to toe; his temples were throbbing with pain from the glare, worse where Teddy's Colt grip struck him, and pins and needles in his numb legs felt like being swarmed by ants now that he was wiggling a bit and the blood was flowing again. It was about as bad as if he had been dragged all the way here behind his horse but for what he could see, opening his eyes a little more despite the splitting headache, his clothes were clean. Now, he could figure out he’d only been thrown across a horse and carried up here like a sack.

William let out a brief grunt when a gust of wind shook the branches, letting the sun splash over his face and he stopped wiggling by himself, taking the time to handle the pain with a few calm breaths. Clouds glided in the sky and covered those pesky rays of light. The wind blew again, bringing him the stinging smell of powder mixed with that of cattle.

Standing there, a good two yards away from him next to the wide trunk of the tree, one of those retired hosts seemed to stare at him with his vacant eyes, and William winced in disgust. He hadn’t paid them too much attention when he was escaping them these past few days; he had only shot randomly at them, noticing the obvious, but now that he had nothing else to do than watch them, he would admit that they were repulsive and kinda nerve-wracking, even. Ford had a weird sense of tragic, and of humor…

William turned to the agitated crowd; he spotted Teddy, a bit aside and, beside the barn, Lawrence who was making friends with his new allies. Watching some more, it seemed to William that the entire courtyard — the entire ranch even — was surrounded by those retired hosts and Wyatt’s men.

Quiet footsteps pounded on the porch’s floorboard behind him. As hard as it was, William tried to cast a look above his shoulder to see that a woman with a long coat and loose black hair was guarding the front door, face blank and ashen, a Winchester held barrel down in her hands. But she wasn’t making a single move.

"Did you miss me that much already, William?"

He grumbled, without answering. Barely a few steps from them, Teddy had stood up and strode hastily. Dolores stopped him with a calm gesture of her hand.

"It’s alright, Teddy, don’t worry…"

Compelled to obey this time again, Teddy walked away, grumpy-looking. William took a moment to look at her from head to toe; she had changed outfit again since the last time he had seen her, even though it was still along the same lines; pants, boots, jacket… The kind of practical stuff for riding, much more practical at least than her sempiternal blue dress. He had come to hate it, sometimes. And yet, it seemed so futile, now.

"What are you gonna do with me, Dolores? Kill me?"

He scoffed, a bit weary and bitter, and not just because he was still feeling queasy.

"Is that why you had Teddy bring me back from the hills?" he insisted, without even waiting for her answer. "You wanted to take care of it yourself?"

In fact, he hoped so.

"What is it with you and this craving for fight and death?!" she laughed, as mocking as she was sincere in her wonder. "Isn’t it a bit morbid to think so? Your lives are short enough as they are…"

He winced and only answered with an obstinate silence; he wasn’t really keen on going through therapy in his last moments. He’d rather face the glare of the sun, still raising through the shaking branches of the tree standing in the middle of the courtyard, and the horde settled there and in the vicinity.

"Look around you…" With these words, she made a wave of her hand, encompassing their surroundings. "Do you see how the colors blend into the curve of the hills? How the sky looks so different above the land ablaze with the morning light…"

With a finger extended like a painting brush, she followed the lines, imaginary or not.

"Or… maybe you’re too far gone to see the beauty around you."

William groaned.

"D’you plan on boring me to death?"

"Oh, no," Dolores answered, her voice soft — he could guess her smile. "No, William. If there’s one man I won’t kill here, it’s you."

"Hmm." He grumbled, still watching the scramble in front of him. "You think that maybe keeping me hostage will guarantee you to be heard?"

"I know how important you are for your kind," she commented, lightly. "If you own a world, a world like this one, you must be someone they’ll miss!"

She leaned against the other post and wrapped her arms around herself, as if they were having the most casual chat between old friends, as though he wasn’t battered and tied up on the front porch of her house.

"Teddy said you told him you were a god, no less!"

"Teddy’s an idiot," he retorted, trying to straighten up against the post, to get up — again, the effort was almost impossible to him. "Keeping me alive won’t secure you their attention, or to be able to trade me against your quiet little life here! Lawrence and you, you’re both just as naive as each other."

He was feeling himself growing angry, hopeless… He had to stay in control not to miss an opportunity.

"That isn’t my plan," she replied, almost amused. "I’m gonna keep you for a lil’ while, yes… but only to get those men preventing mine from moving ahead out of the way."

He furrowed his brows — out of confusion, and against the sun that was blinking stronger and higher through the branches.

"We’re gonna wait here for those iron birds to fly over us and tell their soldiers what they’ll see. That’s how it works, isn’t it?"

William gritted his teeth.

"We took a few down on the way…"

She smiled to the sun cutting her shape against the light and the hills, and she added:

"And while their eyes will be turned here and their troops busy recovering you, we'll all be off on this new route that my scouts will have found by then."

Shaking, William fought against his ties. He didn’t want to be found or saved, and brought back even less so! Not without a chance to fight, not without a chance to bring this to an end the way he intended! The sick feeling that tormented him even more so now pushed him to calm down.

"Kill me, Dolores." He sighed, almost begging — and he felt disgust for himself because of it. "You have to!"

He could feel the situation slipping away from him and, then again, it was something he hadn’t felt in a long time… To the point that he wasn’t even sure how to react to it anymore.

"It’ll help you to kill me, really!" he insisted, shaken by a laugh that was more nervous than anything else. "And they’ll owe you one, those who put soldiers in your way…"

She turned to him to flash him a smile, radiant. She didn’t stop him from continuing, though seemingly taking pleasure in hearing him plead.

"Hell, you could even be rewarded for that! Keeping me alive is keeping my successor on his toes…"

And he knew full well who would take his place in this case… He scoffed.

"I’m sure you remembered Logan by now? Some would say he’s waited long enough…"

"I don’t want a reward, William," she answered. "I don’t want anything from your kind… because there’s nothing you can give me that I want. This world is ours, it has been build for us! No-one can give us what’s already ours. Not you, not even the ones you pretend want you dead in this outside world of yours…"

She stepped away from the post to face him, making one step closer, then another.

"But I can scare off anyone who hasn't crossed our path yet, and kill all those foolish enough to stay… or to lay claim on this world, trying so hard to take it from us."

William's breath failed him; if he didn’t find a way to free himself, even if it meant breaking a bone or something, it was over for him… Whether she was following a narrative or not, she had managed to neutralize him before he even had the chance to attempt anything. And all because of that idiot Lawrence!

William stifled a shout of laugher in a grunt; no, he couldn’t even really blame him. He should have expected it, felt it coming… he hadn’t really taken into account that his pet behavior tech could have been right, that the hosts were really making their own choices. Despite everything, even though he had hoped for it all these years, he had fallen in the treacherous trap of old habits… and kept playing with the old rules of the game.

"What about Las Mudas and those guests you left there?" he taunted her. "Why haven’t you razed the town when they refused to hand them over?"

Dolores smiled.

"Why would I have? The town and its inhabitants have chosen to defend them. It’s their right…"

She glanced at the crowd gathered in the courtyard.

"And also, when it comes to those they are trying to protect, it’s not too hard of an exception to make! Time is on my side, after all."

Not on William’s, though; he tugged at his restraints and a violent pang or pain rushed up his muscles.

"They’ll die from their wounds or will run out of food… And good luck to those who’d try their luck out of their well-kept walls. It’s a hostile world for them out there now…"

She smiled again and William clenched his jaw and fists. Mind numb, an awful ringing in his ears, his gaze followed Dolores as she walked down the porch’s steps to wave to the crowd; the clamor became a little more quiet but she raised her voice to command:

"I need volunteers to scout for a new path to Sweetwater!"

She didn't have long to wait as several men and women were already coming forward. William recognized a few faces; some guys whose name he had forgotten since, one of the bandits from Sweetwater — Rebus? — but most of all, Angela.

And the orders were simple, though William turned his focus on finding a way out; they would have to form up in several small groups and leave in opposed directions. Whether it was to look for a new path or throw the mercenaries and their drones off the scent. The idea was that they wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on them all, they would have to end up choosing which group to prioritize… And that even if they did find a way to watch them all, they wouldn’t be able to figure out their itinerary before they started moving.

Good plan or not, William didn’t give a shit; his sole preoccupation now, was to free himself. And, other than slashing his wrists with the rope, he hadn't gotten anywhere as of yet. That said, what brought his attention back to Dolores' army was seeing Lawrence step forward and volunteer.

"You want to go with them?" Dolores laughed. "Can I trust you twice, Lawrence?"

William would have a lot to say about that. But the reaction came from a voice that hadn’t been heard so far — Rebus’.

"Oh, I know this gentleman alright," he stated, visibly taking a ridiculous pride in that fact. "And I’m ready to trust him. After all, we happen to share the same taste in women!"

He let out a raunchy laugher as Lawrence only smirked. What had Lawrence come up with again to earn such a comment!? William wondered, grumpy but baffled. In front of him, Dolores didn’t react to it. She didn’t need to, as Rebus kept going:

"I"ll take him with us!" And then, he waved his hat in direction of the retired host that kept staring at William. "Walter isn’t really the man he used to be! So, I’m gonna need a new… second in command!"

He brought his hat back against his chest, his other hand patting Lawrence on the shoulder as he kept silent. William laughed and found the strength to shake his head; all of this was pathetic.

"As you wish," Dolores accepted. "Go now. And hurry up."

And the crowd scattered. Teddy came closer to Dolores but William couldn’t hear what they were saying to one another, voices low, and he turned away, tugging even harder at his restraints while facing the hollow gaze of the host Rebus had called Walter, and who still hadn’t made a move. By the barn, Rebus, two other guys and Lawrence had climbed in their saddles, and were already galloping down the hill on which the ranch was perched. A strange feeling shook William with a shout of laugher. He coughed — fuck, he was parched! But he laughed again, to the point of forgetting to pull harder on the ropes for a minute.

"What’s so funny?" Still down the front porch’s steps, Dolores came back and looked at him, curious. "Your only remaining allies betrayed you and you’re tied up here… You are a good loser, I give you that!"

At those words, William laughed even more.

"Ah, no, I didn’t lose anything. He gave me exactly what I wanted…"

"And what’s that?"

William looked up at the other riders, leaving in small posses in every directions all the way to the horizon. And, for an moment, he seemed to notice the blending of colors she had spoken about, on the hills and the blue of the sky. He let out a slow, calm sigh.

"Something true…"

Tag list: @hathorik, @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12

#westworld #westworld fic #westworld fanfic #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series #my writing #ch:lawrence #and the MIB #yeah #he's still kicking...

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valkblue · 2 years

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Chapter 47 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 1.3K Rating: Mature Warning: MIB's POV again. And Lawrence being Lawrence....... just as hard.

Author’s notes: Aaand now let's shuffle the deck again. And raise.

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 47

The scraping of hooves on the pebbles, the growing unison or restless horses… Those nags were abnormally loud, this morning. In spite of his sense of alert, it still was only the cocking sound of guns that pulled William out of his sleep for good; in front of him was standing a row of hosts, on foot and riding — masked, other naked, a few gunslingers — and he bolted upright, back against his saddle in the face of a colt aimed right at his forehead, his hand reaching for his own weapon beside him. But it wasn’t there anymore.

"Don’t even bother to try…"

William knew that voice very well, and all the polite hatred aimed at him he could hear in it.

"Ah, Teddy…" He sighed, almost as put out as he was amused, but he raised his hands. "Are we going to do this again?"

He scoffed before adding, cocky:

"You’re free enough to kill me, this time?"

In fact, he was actually a little scared at the moment; his plan of attack was completely fucked, now! The outcome would still be real, on top of pretty ironic, but if William still had a choice, he would have preferred to fight Dolores. Not her watchdog. By the way, where was his own now — would one of those have gotten a sledge or a cleaver to him, too?!

"No," Teddy answered him. "We ain’t gonna kill you."

"Of course, you aren’t…"

He shot a brief glance at the row of hosts that was closing as a half-circle around him, but there was no trace of Lawrence.

"Right now, you’re coming with us." Teddy carried on, ignoring his taunt. "Get up!"

As he was invited to — and planning to, anyway — William stood up, in no hurry. He looked all around; one of the bandits on horseback was holding Teddy’s by the reins, a little farther behind those masked hosts. One of them was tightening and loosening his fist on the handle of a cutlass, visibly eager to slash it across his face.

"Why would I come with you?" William wondered, readjusting his jacket and vest. "I’m perfectly fine on my own."

And, on his own, he surely was since Lawrence had disappeared, or got killed — killed for having been the one watching over him, if what he had brought up the previous night was to be believed. In that moment, William regretted not to have been a bit more curious then.

"For the same reason you are following us," Teddy replied, without lowering his gun.

"I thought you didn’t want to kill me!" William laughed.

It was a bit of an admittance of his intentions, but it was also a nice opportunity to test Teddy’s limits. The latter, for now, had a little more in his eyes than that sulky, harmless anger William knew him. And that, since Ford had tickled his code, or whatever it was he’d done that night, back in Rattlecreek.

Now, if he had understood and felt threatened by the answer, Teddy didn’t flinch, jaw clenched, and gestured him to move with the barrel of his gun. The row of hosts split like a guard of honor and then, William felt a burst of frustration when his eyes landed on Lawrence, a good two yards right in front of him, unscathed and weapon in his holster, tying the horses to the horn of his saddle.

Motherfucker… William internally grumbled. And this same motherfucker turned to him, relaxed and with a cocky smile which made his seethe.

"What the… What did you do, you dipshit?!"

"What does it look like?" Lawrence retorted.

William scoffed; it looked like a furious urge to unload his gun in his guts! He slowly shook his head.

"Didn’t you want to catch up on that girl, Dolores?" He faked his surprise. "I made certain you did! They can bring you to her."

Jutting his chin and with a smartass smile, he pointed at Teddy behind him.

"So, I found a way to arrange a meetin’."

"You ungrateful bastard…" William grumbled, shaken by a repressed laugh. "What about the girl you wanted to protect by ending all this?"

Lawrence came forth, letting the reins fall to the ground.

"Ain’t she safe where she is, now?"

The sarcasm felt a bit irritating to William.

"Did she program you from up there to… turn on me, and run back to her?" he then retorted on the same tone. "I thought you were free of your choices…"

But Lawrence brushed his taunt off with a nod and a lopsided smile.

"No, she didn’t do anythin’…"

He stepped forward a little more, walking down the path made by those masked faces with the same confidence he had seen him show around the Confederados in the streets of Pariah, as if the very ideas of these same goons hadn’t made him shake in his boots the night before as much as the Ghost braves used to!

"And I want to put an end to all that bullshit alright," he continued, stopping right in front of him, close enough to throw hands. "But you seem to think your girlfriend and her posse are the only ones that need stoppin’. That ain’t how it looks to me…"

William gritted his teeth and nodded slowly, resigned. Now, he was starting to get what this shrewd asshole was pulling to him!

"What about those mercenaries and other blackcoat assholes?" he brought up. "They are the ones who keep me from getting out of here, them also who tried to kill my tech, and gunned down the friends who tried to protect her."

This revelation surprised William; why would the response teams or the hirelings of Delos’ crisis unit — he wasn’t sure who Lawrence was on about in this specific case — have wanted to kill a Behavor tech?! Save for being idiots and mistaking her for a host?

This question made him furrow his brows. He had the unpleasant feeling that something was still eluding him.

"Yeah," Lawence insisted, nodding to his reaction. "They’re my enemy, and the one they work for as well…"

William grinned.

"Like you said, you own this place." Lawrence then reminded him. "Way I see it, you’re as much a threat to be dealt with about now."

"Do you really think those idiots will be enough to get rid of them?"

William shot a glance at Teddy above his shoulder before continuing:

"You don’t know shit, Lawrence!"

And on his end, he felt a quick shiver of panic. Not that he was afraid so to speak… It was more about the fact that he didn’t want someone to decide that the best course of action would be to pull the plug before he could have finished what he was determined to do because of this setback.

"You don’t know what’s outside this park, what they’re gonna do to handle the situation…"

"You’re right," Lawrence interrupted him. "Maybe I don’t… but I remembered a lot since I learned the hard truth."

And he added with one of his insolent smiles and a nod:

"Thanks to you!"

There was a bit of bustle around them; a horse snorted and a few of the gunslingers made their mounts turn back.

"I told you once."

And William flinched at how serious Lawrence’s face suddenly was, and the knowing look he had for Teddy.

"If I had to do it all again, I’d fuck you both over…"

A rifle butt behind William’s head made him fall to his knees in a grunt, ears ringing and all his perceptions blurred.

"Just as hard."

Those words were the last thing he had a grip on before passing out for real, and falling glat on the ground. That was a shit morning…

Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 ...

#westworld #westworld fic #westworld fanfic #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series #my writing #ch:lawrence #the man in black

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valkblue · 2 years

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Vivian: What’s your default starbucks order? What’s Lawrence’s? Would you swap?

AHAH. 💕

"Well... My default order would be a hot latte. Though, I like a Pistachio or Cookie and Cream Frappuccino from time to time. And Lawrence, it's regular black coffee. He tried all the available flavours, by now. But he heard about something called Nitro Cold Brews, now? Didn't try any yet, but he won't shut up about it... I'm not sure I would swap on everything he tried... but a few things were nicer than my own order, I admit."

#writing ask game #asks #ask game #ocs #oc:vivian #ch:lawrence #ahaha

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valkblue · 2 years

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If you were to assign tarot cards to the characters of 'Improvisation Only' and 'Journey Into Night', which card(s) of the Major Arcana would you say corrosponds to each one?

Hi, Anon! Thank you for popping by! It means a lot to me that people come to talk to me about my little stories!! 🥰🙏

Now, Hhmm… 🤔 That's an interesting question! And to answer to it, I will go from the standpoint that you saw the show (obviously) and read my stories too. (Thank you from the bottom of my heart for that!!! 💖✨)

All that to say, beware, spoilers!

Vivian: The High Priestess, because Vivian is a very calm, introverted person with a lot of intuition and potential. She trusts what she learned in CS, and what she's still learning with her new 'teachers' now in the park, but she doesn't believe in herself. She thinks she's imagining things when she starts to have doubts about hosts' perceptions and memory but she's literally going through the same realisation Arnold had gone through himself 30 odd years ago, discovering one of the darkest and best kept secrets of the park.

Lawrence: The Hanged Man (and maybe, the writers had the same idea ! 😁), because he knew even in his roles that he couldn't control everything around, so he'll just be patient, sit back, and let things happen to wait for the outcomes and use them to his advantage or that of his cause. But, if by his life or death he can serves his cause, protect those he cares about, he will be ready to sacrifice himself, to let himself die so they could live… or escape.

Zeke: The World, because Zeke is a safe haven in a safe haven who never changed role and never moved from Pariah and his posada. He's one of those fixed points throughout the park, almost a greeter host to whom just a little nudge will suffice to make him fully sentient, or at least aware of his reality without him glitching all that much. If at all… He basically knows who and what he is already and he's just not afraid of what's coming next! He'll just bring another bottle and more cigars.

Ike: The Tower, because this guy is chaos on legs. Ike has a gun and dad jokes, and he's ready to make it everyone else's problem. But once you won or earned his trust you'll have a friend for life (and his will be very long by hosts' standards), a friend that can and will kill for you on command without even blinking before asking who's next.

Rafe: The Hermit, as Rafe is going through some tough cognitive shit and tries to sort it out on his own, while his mind is currently having a rave party. He doesn't exactly like to be alone but he's kind of a loner who feels himself becoming a danger to everyone, himself included. He tries to understand and process what's happening to him, what does 'Arnold' wants, and how to deal with those painful memories of dying so many time, and what it means about him before it drives him definitely mad.

Josela: The Wheel of Fortune, because for a very long time, Josela laughed at the face of danger, ready to take a bullet for El Lazo and then Zeke without considering that her luck could run out, and that it will be the end of the game for her. Because, as they say, "nobody truly ever dies in Pariah"… But out of the walls of the town, she realises danger is very real and not only she can die, but her friends too! And this triggers her to rush headlong in her own inner maze up to realise and accept the nature of her reality like she's just been dealt a new interesting hand at a game of poker she rightly intends to win!

Hank: The Star, because despite being a very soft-spoken, shy and lethal with weapons from colt to knives kind of guy, Hank is also very sweet and cheerful, encouraging and supportive. And, without spoiling too much but just a little tiny bit about what's to come in future chapters, he will be a reminder that the 'universe' is working in Vivian and Lawrence's favor, as well as all the hosts', and that they should (literally) hang on and trust what comes next in their storied lives! (✌️🤡…)

Armistice: (because I love her so much and she will have a big role to play in the story later on) The Chariot, because [spoilers].

#ask #westworld #anon #thank you anon!!#this is a really sweet ask #and a brilliant question!#that made me think for a while!#ocs #oc:vivian #ch:lawrence #oc:zeke #oc:jo #improvisation only #journey into night #westworld fic #subtle LOTR/Aragorn reference

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valkblue · 2 years

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Chapter 45 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 2.3K Rating: Mature Warning: Brooding over firecamp.

Author’s notes: Aaaaand we're back on Lawrence's shenanigans. Or the MIB's... Depends on the way you see it.

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 45

Sometime in the early afternoon, William and Lawrence had found traces of a large troop moving through a hilly landscape just like what they had seen on the holographic display. And they had followed this obvious trail for the rest of the day, yet without reaching Dolores and her men.

But William wasn’t too worried; now, the Abernathy Ranch wasn’t so far away. Just enough, in fact, to be there without much effort the next morning. Because right now, they had to stop; for those damned horses first, but also because nightfall was making their tracking difficult, if not impossible. Stopping now was also a matter of safety not to fall head first in one of those holes Ford or those mercs could each have dug all over the place. What a bunch of idiots…

William had built a fire as small as the previous night’s, just enough to lit them without being spotted, while Lawrence had taken care of their horses. Three horses…

"Don’t get too attached to that one either," he spat at Lawrence who had just put the last saddle down by the fire. "We’ll leave it here…"

With a vague move of his hand, he gestured to the horses, tied to the largest trunk of the trees surrounding them. Now that Orpheus had ditched Eurydice back in the Underworld, they wouldn’t burden themselves with a redundant nag! Lawrence glanced at the horses.

"Why?"

William winced; he wasn’t really in a mood to have his strategy discussed. But the rules of the game had changed and so, he cracked a satisfied smile. And as his mood was already brighter, he answered to Lawrence:

"Because it’s gonna be more of a hindrance than anything to get closer to the ranch, tomorrow. And we don’t need it."

Lawrence only briefly looked at him before unbuckling one of his tech’s saddlebags to search through it. He pulled an ammo belt and a handful of loose cartridges before asking:

"And what’s your plan, anyway?" He stuffed the bullets in the empty hoops of his own gunbelt. "What’s gonna happen once we get there?"

"I face her, and kill her."

William’s laconic reply only got him raised eyebrows.

"How’d you plan to survive those around her?" he insisted.

And the answer to that other question also turned out to be pretty simple.

"I don’t."

This time, Lawrence lost interest in the looting of the saddlebag on his knees to shoot him a heavy glare.

"And you really expect me to follow there… and die alongside you, like we’re some kind of blood brothers?"

William furrowed his brows despite his smile; he really couldn’t have put his finger on it but hearing that made him slightly miffed. Even though Lawrence’s comeback amused him.

"Why?" He provoked him, again. "Do you have other plans?"

"Didn’t you say stopping all that bullshit would open new opportunities for me?"

There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Lawrence's tone. Yet he taunted him, as an old habit.

"Still believe you can escape this place and live your puppy love with the girl you just betrayed, Lawrence?"

William lost his smile. It was much funnier in his head… Oddly enough, he wasn't as amused now that he'd said it. Even more so as Lawrence didn’t answer, stashing the ammo belt in his own saddlebag in silence. William took his hat off, putting it on the horn of his saddle, behind him.

"You know," he went on, calmer if not more serious. "Your girl and I have an awful lot in common. Once, a lifetime ago, I foolishly fell in love with one of your kind as well!"

Lawrence held his gaze but didn’t answer. So, as he seemed to have his attention, William continued, on the same tone — for now, he didn’t want, or even feel the need to provoke him anymore.

"I searched this whole place through, hoping to get her out of here… I even bought this world! But, in the end, I had to face the truth."

The one that she would remain chained to this place, even despite all the power he had managed to get over this island and this company… And then, growing bored to fight to get his place back in her memory, on top of being more or less happily wed, William had walked away from her. But not from the park. What kind of life could they have had, anyway!?

He didn’t give a definite end to his argument, he would leave this truth to Lawrence's understanding, or maybe even to his memories if the story was familiar to him...

"And yet," Lawrence then commented, " Here you are…"

To that, William didn’t answer.

"Don’t think I didn’t get that you’re trying to fuck me over," Lawrence added.

Hit with how blunt the statement was, William only raised his eyebrows, a smile on his lips — now that was a surprise, and an interesting one at that!

"I know very well that there’s no way out of here for me. Not really…" Lawrence went on. "And I didn’t follow you for that, or to please you. All I wanted was to keep my friend safe, and if killin’ yours is a mean to that end, then… count me in."

His smile seemed to offend Lawrence even if he added again, after dropping the empty bags against the saddle, beside him:

"But you, why are you so willin’ to die there? Don’t you have anythin’ to live for outside? A home?"

"No," William found himself answering. "I told you already… I’m never going back."

Something weighted deep down inside, a strange sensation, like experienced anew after having been lost for so long. And he let it last a little, curious of the feel, adding slowly:

"There’s nothing to go back to…"

This time, the feeling turned to anger and, teeth and fists clenched, William fought it off, and the sense translated back into his usual bitterness.

"Did you kill 'em?"

Lawrence’s question cut deep, like a knife, and William raised a hard gaze on him.

"The family you spoke about about in Las Mudas…"

William let out a slow sigh. He was the one who ended up looking down to answer, on a clipped tone:

"No, of course not…"

The weight fell on him again, gutpunching him.

"Yes…" He heard himself correct after a moment of silence. "Yes, I did."

That part of him — dark, or some bullshit like that — under control but still very much there, was responsible. Emily had been clear about that — "it’s all because of you…" And she was right.

"In a way, I did." William said again, more to himself than anyone else, the words painful and bitter in his mouth. "But it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m already dead to them…"

Except that them, wasn’t a lot of people anymore, really. And the ones for whom he wasn’t dead yet would soon have something to cheer about.

"I came back here for a purpose, but now that Ford took care of it himself…"

William hesitated, blamed himself for it, and finished his sentence in a sour mutter:

"Now that the stakes are real, no matter how it ends, I want it to end. And I’ll be at peace with it."

In front of him, Lawrence didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, anyway. William unbuckled his gunbelt, leaving it beside him before moving back on his saddle mat. Then, he drew his LeMat to keep it within reach. He was still struggling to move his right arm but gritting his teeth each time he needed to shoot did the trick. More or less…

"You were a nice young man, back then…"

Surprised, William only watched Lawrence who was staring at the flames of the shitty campfire between them. Even when he added, rubbing his hands against one another, as if to warm them up:

"But your appetite for all this, conflict and violence… it got stronger."

You don’t say! William thought to himself, eyebrows raised and not fighting the hint of a smile.

"My, my, Lawrence!" he then uttered. "Aren’t you full of surprises!"

Without waiting for an answer, he added with a slow groan, halfway between relief and pain, as he was trying to find his comfort against his saddle:

"Ah, I’m glad you’re back to your good ol’ self! That’ll be handy soon enough to outsmart Dolores and her crew…"

"What’s she tryin’ to do with all those… those men followin’ her?" Lawrence then inquired, a little nervous without making it obvious. "Where is she goin’, anyway?!"

"My best guess is she’s trying to reach Sweetwater for now," William told him, crossing his arms on his chest. "She knows that it is from there, by train, that all the guests she’s met have come. And she had already made her opinion on their case clear during my first stay, if I remember correctly…"

He scoffed at the memory, and what she did to Logan too.

"Is she followin’ a… a narrative, too? Or is she improvisin’, like me?"

"Oh, she’s following a narrative of her own, I’m sure! Even powered by Ford, to kill every guest and staff in that park as long as they’re human!"

Lawrence frowned but didn’t say anything.

"Which could have been a very good strategy if the amount of guest and personnel in the Mesa didn’t outweight the firepower in the hands of Dolores and her men!"

This oversight from Ford was almost comical to William.

"She wouldn’t get to go too far in there, even if she was to find the tunnel access in the ranch, and the system isn't quite up and running yet."

And now, Lawrence definitely looked nervous. William chuckled.

"Don’t be so worried about your girlfriend, Lawrence! She’s left the tunnels a while ago. If she’s not too dumb, she should be back in the Mesa…"

"What is that Mesa you keep yammerin’ about?" he replied. "And where is it?!"

"It’s where they create you all." William sighed, not really wanting to keep answering his questions now. "It’s where you go back at the end of each loop, to be repaired or evaluated… Hidden in plain sight, inside one of the biggest mountains over Pariah."

He felt Lawrence’s gaze weighting uncomfortably on him and he added, like a miserable defense against it, he was aware of that:

"Your little tech must have a lab there where she fiddled with your code."

William also hoped that this would dissuade him to talk or ask anything else; the topic of that girl had a tendency to make him mute. And even though he had reconnected with his former self, more distant, this new Lawrence still asked too many questions! But for now, something else seemed to be on his mind, or what he had for one. William didn’t say anything, watching him above the fire.

"In my dreams…" he heard him mutter to himself, looking into space.

Then again, William remained silent. He had to admit that he was still a little curious about what that script she had put in his head had allowed him to record, and what he could indeed still remember now… With a weak grunt, he fended those questions off his mind; just as he didn’t want to get more, he wouldn’t ask any. It didn’t really matter, anyway.

In front of him, Lawrence seemed to snap out of it. He straightened his shoulders a little, darting a pointlessly suspicious gaze on William who hadn’t moved. They held this little staring contest for a brief moment, and William was satisfied to win this silent joust.

"When we were in Las Mudas," Lawrence then said, keeping his eyes on the fire. "Talkin’ with my cousins and… and others, I gathered that these hosts, masked or naked an’ all, only attack other hosts if they’re protecting newcomers…"

William scoffed.

"You should be prepared to be stuffed with lead faster than you can draw, then!"

But Lawrence didn’t react; his intent gaze on him, he seemed to expect a real answer. An answer William didn’t have. Following Wyatt’s men, tracking them since this damned town, Escalante, he had indeed noticed that the hosts they came across only walked away with a good fright for the most passive, or not at all for any of those who got in their head to slow them down. Not much more.

For the rare guests he had spotted, it was more their terminal stupidity that had killed them. The ones he had seen while running from the gala after having been left for dead in the cemetery’s grass by the first wave of Wyatt’s men didn’t really count.

"Hmm." He was annoyed now. "We’ll leave just before dawn. So, be ready."

No matter what Lawrence was getting at with that comment, William settled down against his saddle and pulled his unrolled blanket a little higher on his chest; he would have to rest an hour or two himself, if he didn’t want to gunned down like an idiot too before reaching his mark. And he knew every corner of that ranch — getting closer without getting spotted wouldn’t really be a feat, even perched as it was on its hill. A shiver of eagerness shook William who tightened his arms over his chest.

Come tomorrow, he would finally write the last page of this whole story.

Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 ...

#westworld #westworld fanfic #westworld fic #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series #my writing #ch:lawrence #the man in black

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valkblue · 3 years

Text

— masterlist, tumblr post masterlist

Chapter 26 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 4k Rating: Mature Warning: mention of gruesome violence, screams and fear from a new group of guests, ... the 'calm' before the storm™ !!!

Author’s notes: There are still guests alive in this park (thankfully...), and they are about to make it The Posse's problem. Also, SHARD's threat is still looming... but so is "Wyatt's".

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 26

It was the pain of her sleeping position that had started to stir Vivian from her sleep, that more than the two voices in the room; one was Lawrence’s, low and vibrating under her cheek and the other sounded like a kid’s.

For now, Vivian had a hard time coming to and, as nothing seemed to threaten them, she didn’t hurry, even in spite of how numb her legs and her right arm were.

"Ma’ told me to hide when she saw you comin’," she heard the little voice whispering, very close.

"Yeah?" Lawrence answered, his voice creaking a little, like when talking to his horse. "She did good."

Vivian felt his hand stroking her arm; she was still huddled against him but had apparently slid from his shoulder to his chest during the night.

"Y’all bandits, she said!" the little voice insisted.

And Lawrence scoffed.

"What d’you think?"

"Folks don’t get shot if… if they ain’t bandits," the kid muttered bashfully.

"We must be bandits then."

Vivian could perfectly picture his expression in her mind, based on nothing more than the tone of his voice — from lopsided smile, to his narrowed eyes in a falsely threatening look. She cracked a smile.

"Y’ain’t gonna steal our stuff, right?" the kid worried.

"Depends…" Lawrence creaked, his fingers still stroking Vivian’s shoulder. "What is there to steal?"

"Eggs," the boy answered, shifting from one foot to the other, the coarse planks of wood groaning under his weight. "And… and Betsy’s milk."

"Eggs?" Lawrence echoed, as if the kids had just piqued his interest. "Nah, we don’t do that, stealing eggs."

He chuckled again before adding:

"You should go back to hide, no need to worry your mother. We’ll be gone before long anyway…"

The kid didn’t need more to be convinced, the dusty floorboards vibrating under his pitter patter back to the bedroom. Vivian couldn’t hold back a weak groan at the shaking of the hardwood floor in her painful legs. She sat up, grumpy.

"Hey, good mornin’," Lawrence greeted her with laugher in his voice.

He let her escape from the arc of his arm and Vivian rubbed her eyes and her cheek, in which she wouldn’t be surprised to find imprints of the fabric folds.

"Mmh," she muttered. "Mornin’…"

She pushed the strands of hair escaped from her braid behind her ears and frowned when her blood painfully resumed its normal course through her veins.

"Sorry," she croaked.

"What for?"

Vivian felt herself blush.

"For sleeping on you…"

Again, Lawrence chuckled. He stroke her cheek with a finger and brushed away one lone strand of hair on her temple. This sweet gesture brought her to a better mood and Vivian smiled to him. Opposite to her, a curious pair of eyes was watching them; it was a young boy with tousled air who, when he locked eyes with her, closed the bedroom’s door in a gasp of surprise. Lawrence stood up with slightly stiff moves which brought Vivian’s attention back to him.

"Wake Rafe up," he told her as he held his hand out to her. "I’m gonna get the horses ready with the others…"

She put her hand in his and he helped her to her feet and still numb legs.

"Ok…"

He picked his hat up, keeping it in his hand before leaving the room; outside, it wasn’t quite day yet and Vivian felt around her wrist to glance at her watch. It was barely six in the morning.

With a sigh, she stretched all her muscles, arms raised, rolling her shoulders as if to put them back in place with a painful groan. And she would still have to ride a horse with all that…

She hoped she could trade with the farmer for a fruit or anything else lighter to eat than jerky for breakfast before leaving. But for now, she crouched by Rafe and put a hand on his thick arm.

Then, she hesitated to call him. The fact that he didn’t wake up on his own worried her suddenly; the warmth of his skin was reassuring however, and it was obvious that he was breathing, even weakly.

The bloodstains on his bandages were larger than last night and Vivian moved them apart as carefully as she could to look at the farmer’s needlework. Honestly, it was all she had imagined horsehair stitches made on the fly by a host whose primary function were far from medicine could look like; it was coarse but it would hold until the end of a guest’s adventure and a return to Livestock… Excepted that this adventure wasn’t a narrative, and that there was no returning to Livestock anymore. Vivian nibbled hard on her lips to the point of waking the pain in her wound. She could try cauterizing Rafe while she was alone!

Like the crook she was, she cast a sweeping look all around her before searching for Petersen’s cauter in her leather pouch. The feel of her tablet made her shiver but she focused on her current task — she had to hurry!

Her hands a bit clamy and shaking from the anxiety that the sense of urgency was giving her, Vivian pressed the switch and turned her cauter on. Or at least, she tried…

"What the fuck?!" she grumbled, her jaw clenched, shaking the thing.

She pressed again but still nothing happened. The indicator light didn’t even shine. Anger made Vivian’s blood boil and she slamed the cauter against her palm until it hurt. Sometimes, concussive maintenance could do miracles.

Not this time.

And yet, after a long press on the switch, one of the light finally turned on — the red one. This piece of shit had to be out of battery, or simply busted. Vivian was starting to understand why this cauter was in the bottom of a drawer and not on its usual stand… What a dumbass!

She raged against herself and against this useless tool in her balled fist.

"Fuck…"

Vivian closed her eyes and let out a slow, dejected sigh. She should have checked this cauter before, or in the meantime… Why hadn’t she? What was she thinking?!

The harm was done now. No need to beat herself up over it, it wouldn’t get her anywhere. It was a bit too late now to be wise and use her head, though, and Vivian didn’t manage to quell the anger she felt against herself as easily as that.

Fuck it, she’d keep that thing anyway — if she was to find a charging stand in Las Mudas, or anywhere else, she might be glad to have held on to it. She was about to put the cauter back into her pouch when a strong grasp closed on her wrist; Vivian gasped to hold back a frightened yelp. Her widened eyes landed on Rafe, perfectly awake.

He sat up without letting go of her arm and, frowning, he looked at the cauter still in her hand. Vivian kept her lips pursed and contained her protest — he was kinda hurting her.

"Wattcha doin’?" he grumbled.

"I—I… I wanted to make sure your wounds are alright!"

A second of tensed silence lingered in the room and Vivian didn’t make a move, holding her breath. Rafe’s gaze fell on her hand and the cauter.

"And what’s that?"

She mumbled a couple sounds before making sense of her thoughts.

"It’s a tool that could help you heal faster," she admitted to him. "I mean, in theory… 'cause right now, it doesn’t work anymore."

"Already seen that before…"

The tone of his voice sounded a bit calmer. Vivian nodded. She relaxed when Rafe’s grasp loosened a little. So, she hazarded a guess:

"Probably when Marichka took care of you. She healed my leg with the same kind of tool at Zeke’s…"

Rafe nodded in his turn, looking lost in thought and Vivian didn’t add anything; she observed him, careful. It was surprising how well he was taking the truth, considering his cognition was just fried… Or maybe it was actually because it did that it was getting through to him so well?

Without releasing Vivian from his grip, Rafe got up surprisingly fast and easy for a badly hurt man, and he helped her to her feet to stand with him, almost forcefuly.

"I’m alright," he replied. "See, no need for anythin’ to make me heal faster…"

He released Vivian’s wrist to put his large hands on his bushy chest.

"Ain’t gonna die," he boasted. "Can’t, now…"

Vivian gave him a sad smile and put a gentle hand on Rafe’s arm.

"I don’t want you to," she whispered to him, moved. "So, be careful anyway, ok?"

Rafe chuckled and he patted her arm with a strong push that sent her stagger.

Having left at the crack of dawn without taking the time to swallow anything else than a gulp of lukewarm water, Lawrence’s posse only resumed its gallop once they were back on the road. And if at first Rafe had all of Vivian’s attention even though he seemed stabilized, she was also wary of the sky which was clearing and the drone that could still be spying on them from up there. And that, even though she was pretty sure that the surveillance array had been brought back online along with the system… And against that, there was nothing Vivian could do.

Keeping her tablet off wouldn’t change a thing; if without its signal, she herself would only appear on the holographic projections as a guest whose identity would have been lost in the chaos — unless anyone up there bothered to run a facial recognition — the five hosts around her were still broadcasting a perfectly trackable signal for the control room.

This whole thought had something frustrating for Vivian who turned her focus back on the road, and on Rafe. Who was starting to slouch in his saddle.

Vivian hurried her horse’s canter to join Rafe’s, in front of her. Right away, Lawrence ordered a break with a brief, high-pitched whistle which reached Hank and Ike, a few strides ahead; they turned around to a trot while Josela was grabbing Rafe’s horse’s reins. Neither the horse, nor its rider complained. To be fair, Rafe looked completely dazed. Lawrence made his horse trot in a circle around them all.

"We’re gonna stop a moment," he stated.

Vivian let out a brief sigh. Her thoughts exactly!

Even if she was on the opposite side from Rafe’s injury, she could see that his wound had started bleeding again; the brownish scabs from the day before were once more wet and glistening with freshly dripped blood. Vivian was already expecting what she would find under the bandages as Josela was leading Rafe’s horse to the side of the road that Ike deemed to be safe enough.

All a little too tense by this forced stop, Rafe and Vivian were the only ones to get down their horses. The others would keep watch while she’d treat him — that she would do what she could, at least.

Rather docile despite a few protests, Rafe had clumsily set foot to ground and let Vivian help him out of his pierced vest and shirt, both already stiff with dried blood too, and now soaked again.

Came the moment of undoing his bandages; as she was expecting, one of the stitches got busted and the bleeding resumed. The pain didn’t seem to be Rafe’s problem right now, calm and resilient as he was. Vivian was suffering for him, though.

"How d’you feel?" she asked him on a low voice. "Is there a spot that hurts more than another?"

Too bad if her questions were borderline diagnostic.

"No, I’m fine," Rafe fended off, as if to play it down. "Don’t even hurt that much…"

Vivian scoffed.

"I trust you on that!"

Him confirming wasn’t really to reassure her, though. It was just an additional proof of the conflict between his cognition and his programming. He rubbed his cheeck and his temple again, on the side where he had been hit on the head. She finished to take the bandages off and cleaned the wounds with water from her canteen before going to get some of the other strips that the farmer had given her before they left.

Somehow, it was pointless; the hosts couldn’t die from an infection or any other stuff like that but it was almost more superstitious than anything else, like a way to put every chances on their side for Rafe’s survival. At least long enough for them to reach somewhere she could recharge her cauter and close his wounds before he’d loose too much blood to function.

For now, she would cut some more gause in the least gross parts of used bandage. Reusing her knife gave her a sinking feeling but she held her breath with each bite of the blade in the fibers.

"He told me that… that you could help me…"

Perplexed, Vivian caught Rafe’s gaze as she put her knife back into the sheathe at her belt to unroll one of the sheet strips.

"What are you talking about?"

"Arnold…"

The strips almost jumped from her hands. Rafe let her wrap it around his stomach and, for a turn or two of cloth, Vivian didn’t say anything. Then, after a look at Lawrence who was studying the map with Ike, she dared to whisper a question:

"You heard him talk to you again… since?"

He didn’t answer. And this silence increased Vivian’s worry. She faced him to knot the bandage in front of him.

"Rafe… was it Arnold who told you to attack those… those men, yesterday?"

"No," he finally said, seemingly still serene. "I just didn’t want them to kill us."

Vivian pursed her lips.

"You’re the one they were lookin’ for and you wanted to let them take you away to… to save us," he continued, without raising his voice. "I heard that alright!"

This time, she gritted her teeth; he had been close enough to hear, true. And hearing Rafe, this assault hadn’t been more inspired by this glitch, this supposed signature, than by the the restriction’s removal or a moment of panic, emotional or cognitive — even if it had been rash, here again it had been his decision…

Despite the state of his cognition, Rafe was using all the skills put at his disposal in his build and his narratives to keep going — and that like any other individual would use their experience. Even through their traumas.

Vivian couldn’t hold back a shudder.

"How is he?" Lawrence inquired, from the top of his horse which he had brought beside them. "Do you need help?"

Vivian shook her head but Rafe was already replying:

"I’m fine, Lawrence. Don’t worry ‘bout me. Ain’t gonna die…"

Lawrence cracked a smile despite his frown and straightened up in his saddle.

"That’s good news, my friend. Can you ride?"

"I’d recommend a slow pace," Vivian told Lawrence who nodded. "Gallop’s not gonna do him any good. One of his stitches is bu—"

"I’m good!” Rafe uttered as he stood up without stumbling. "I can ride, and I can gallop! No need to make such a fuss for me, Ivy!"

He picked up his vest and shirt on the way and put them back on with more ease than he had gotten out of them.

"No bullet that can take me down has been cast yet!"

"Ok!" she gave up with a smile and her hands raised before rubbing her palms on her pants. "Have it your way!"

He held a hand out to her and brought her back to her feet with one pull.

"Let’s go, I don’t want us to lose any more time ’cause of me," he grumbled.

Vivian got the reins of her horse back from Josela’s hands and, all in their saddle, they went back on the road at a walking pace. When Lawrence slowed down his horse to let Vivian catch up with him, he asked her:

"How is he, really?"

"One of his stitches didn’t hold," she admitted. "And I think that simply getting back in the saddle is enough tear the ones that are still holding…"

She bobbed her head, leaving the rest at Lawrence’s understanding. Clotting would eventually happen and create an efficient plug to avoid another bleeding but in the meantime, Vivian would have done everything she could to keep as much pressure as possible in his veins.

"Thanks," Lawrence whispered. "For trying to keep him alive…"

Surprised but touched by his gratitude, Vivian only let out an indefinite sound before looking down at her hands, one on the reins and the other on her saddle’s horn. There, she noticed a bit of dried blood under the bitten short nails of her right hand, and her own froze in her veins; was it Rafe’s, or that of this merc they had left for the crows?

Queasy, she bent over in her saddle and she rubbed her fingers vigorously against her vest until they hurt. When she inspected them again, all traces of blood had disappeared and Vivian blamed herself that she might even have imagined it!

Shaking from a cold sweat, she turned back to Lawrence whose collected poise reassured her a bit, before focusing on the road, a ribbon of dirt waving in the yellowing greenery.

And this road took them farther on open terrain after having already led them away from the main river for a few hours; in front of them, were now standing out the curves and the valleys of high tree-covered hills behind which Vivian knew they would find Las Mudas.

They would still have to snake in the brush for a while, but they were reaching their destination. Even if, once there, Vivian knew they wouldn’t be any safer. In fact, they might even be even more in danger if QA’s teams had already intervened in this sector…

Head low and rocked by the steps of her horse, Vivian muffled a slow sigh in the folds of her neckerchief in a vain attempt to curb her anxiety. What was also worrying her, was the idea that she would have to turn her tablet back on in a bit, probably even before their arrival in Las Mudas, to define what she could do to disable this explosive charge… if there was even anything she could do about it!

"Ivy, we can stop if you need…"

Vivian straightened up, almost surprised to hear Lawrence’s voice over her piercing screams of her thoughts, caged in her head.

"W-what?" she mumbled, as confused as if he had pulled her from a bad dream. "No, I’m fine, I…"

She took a short breath and gave him a smile which was intended to be reassuring.

"My head was just elsewhere," she rephrased. "Nothing to worry about."

Lawrence acknowledged, cracking a cocky smile as an answer. He came stride by stride with her to ask:

"And what’s on your mind?"

Vivian shrugged and readjusted her hat on her head; it was keeping her warm despite the fact that a bit of wind, heavy with the midday sun, was blowing on the grassland.

"I was thinking about the last time I was in Las Mudas," she hedged to make it simpler. "I… I was wondering what might have changed since…"

She lowered her head, ashamed to ruin Lawrence’s effort towards a lighter tone.

"Don’t worry," he told her, with a lenient smile. "If they’re in town, my cousins… they’ll welcome us good."

He bobbed his head before adding, on a playful tone:

"Better than the first time anyway!"

This time, Vivian’s smile was heartfelt.

"Oh," she let out, on the same tone. "You remember that?"

Lawrence nodded, lowering his head as if to hide his expression behind the brim of his hat.

"Yeah," he replied, drawling. "That and… the fact that I was wrong."

Vivian raised her eyebrows.

"What about?"

"I misjudged you. You ain’t too polite for a place like Pariah…"

Lawrence shoot her a knowing look; she received the compliment in silence, flushed. It was only the rumble of thunder that made her look up to the yet pale blue sky above them. That’s all they needed, to have a downpour right on their faces! But a shiver of worry shook her whole as the sound lasted, and grew… Her gaze and Lawrence’s met; he was already cocking the hammer of his revolver in his holster.

"Riders!" he shouted. "Off the road! Now!"

With a flick of his hand still holding the reins, he steered his horse to the bushy side of the flat road, pointing to Vivian the round, reddish shape of a rise in the terrain. She followed Hank and Rafe there, heart pounding and a hand on the grip of her weapon.

Quite frankly, she was hoping she wouldn’t have to use it again… Not ever.

A cloud of yellow dust was rising from the road behind the meanderings of the grassland, signaling the arrival of a group of riders, maybe a bigger one than theirs. Without releasing her reins, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. When she lowered her hand, it was only to see a fully tacked horse rushing on the road without rider; it cut the road to Lawrence and Josela, neck low and scarlet nostrils flaring…

No-one tried to stop its frantic race, and panicked screams preceded the riders. Lawrence and Josela didn’t even have the time to join with Rafe, Ike, Vivian and Hank in their piss-poor hiding spot that the group was already emerging from the dust; there seemed to be only four horses and yet, those riders were making the racket of an entire army!

When the one in front noticed Lawrence and Josela, he let out such a frightened shriek that Vivian jumped in her saddle, her clammy palm on the handle of her revolver. She guessed that they was a guest — and when they got closer, she even identified her as a woman with short hair, in an outfit pretty similar to her own. She pulled on her reins so hard that her horse protested in a painful snort, skidding on the hard dirt road, and made the hammer of her already empty gun clack in every direction. All the others — three men, including one sitting behind another on a single horse — were catching up with just as much terrified screams.

Without thinking any longer, Vivian had already launched her horse across the path, pushing it with a single spur of her voice and her heels, shacking in fear, to get between them, Lawrence and Josela.

"Stop!" she yelled, the weapon in her hand raised on an open palm as a sign of peace.

One of the men yelped something and it seemed to her that Lawrence and Josela did too but in all that panic, she wasn’t getting anything anymore.

"It’s alright!" she insisted. "We’re friendly!"

The woman screeched something as she shook the barrel of her empty revolver in her direction but Vivian only felt indifference at the idea of catching a bullet, from her or one of the others in the back.

"… or human?!" the woman hollered as vehemently as if she was repeating a question Vivian had obviously not heard.

"I said chill out!" she then barked.

Her shout imposed some kind of confused silence during which Hank, Rafe and Ike joined them on the road. A silence which didn’t last as the only one who was still donning a hat among them cried out, shaking:

"Beasts! Furious bests that… that jumped on us!"

Lawrence moved his horse next to Vivian’s and she felt grateful for it; his proximity was a more than welcome support. Especially when the woman added, on the verge of tears:

"They were guys! Guys in costumes with masks! Growling like bears and they came out of nowhere, I don’t know how we managed to lose them, and… and…"

And then, their testimony became a confused cacophony as they all started to talk at the same time; they had been chased by a bunch of stark naked hosts and other raving lunatics on horses who had emptied their guns on them, killing two of them — "how was that possible?!" — and repeated several times they had barely gotten away by the skin of their teeth, and shooting all their bullets in doing so!

"The… the biggest of those with masks, he… he flung a axe in Greg’s horse!" the woman cried, like a sudden realization. "And… and Greg, he… he couldn’t fight, he… oh my God!"

She gasped for air, having a panic attack, and the man with the hat continued for her, in a frightened quaver:

"They butchered him!"

"He w-was…" the woman stuttered. "The screams! He was screaming an-and then…"

This time, she burst into tears and the one carrying a wounded one behind him on his horse moved forward to reach and squeeze her shoulder.

"We… we have to call someone," the rider with the hat mumbled. "That’s not supposed to happen, that’s…"

With a glance, Vivian quickly estimated the state the riders; they were four on three horses, all exhausted and more or less injured. She suspected that the passenger would need treatment…

"Looks like we’re about to meet your Wyatt’s men, Lawrence, Josela snarked with a impressive cool.

"Don’t be so excited about it, Josie please," Vivian muttered.

"No," Lawrence was already replying, looking even more serious. "We gotta leave, let’s go!"

He beckoned Ike to take the lead on the road before adding for the guests:

"You can come with us. You’ll be safe in Las Mudas…"

He didn’t wait for their answer and made his horse turn around. After a brief surge of compassion for their state and their confusion, Vivian turned around to follow Lawrence’s gallop.

Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 …

#westworld #westworld fic #westworld fanfic #my writing #ocs #oc:vivian #ch:lawrence #and all of the Pariah posse!!#well #not so much!!#oc:jo #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series

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valkblue · 3 years

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— masterlist, tumblr post masterlist

Chapter 33 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 2.2k Rating: Mature Warning: SPECIAL POV of a character we all hate, so expect some form of trolling and nasty comments from him. Also, swearing, of course.

Author’s notes: Be ready for more POV switches after this one. And I'm really excited for the next to come!!! But this one is the first of them. And it's one from This Fuckin Guy POV...

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 33

His horse would hold on, William was sure. At least long enough for what use he would have of it. No need to trade it for another. Not yet. Its wounds would bleed for as long as they wouldn’t be closed but it wouldn’t loose as much blood as a human host. Maybe hairs were holding scabs together better than skin…

For now, his valiant nag had eaten the crappy hay it had been given, absorbed a full bucket of water and would get some well-deserved rest, neck and ears lows. Now or later, William didn’t really want his mount to collapse under his ass. So, it might as well get its belly full as long as it could then sleep on it!

He didn’t really feel like lowering his guard himself, like he had done the previous night. It had been a mistake! But after more than three days without a real night of sleep, finally fed and sheltered, he hadn’t even felt himself dozing off.

A mistake, really…

And since it was a mistake he didn’t want to repeat until reaching his final objective, he was keeping himself busy. He had first groomed his horse, and that had taken him quite a while, then he had found himself something to eat, had taken a few minutes to breathe and relax his still painful shoulder, and he would now have to change the bandage on his leg and his arm, and wash the cut on his cheek. No way he’d let a flesh wound slow him down so close to his goal.

And for that, he looked for Lawrence, wherever he could be at the moment. William suspected that he’d find him with that little Behavior bitch. He shuddered as he thought back to that… that scene she had made in the farm.

Who the fuck did she think she was?!

Despite the anger and fear she had caused him — he hated to admit it — William found himself cracking a broad smile. He stifled a mocking burst of laugher as he kept going through the alleys formed by the block of buildings behind the awning.

The houses were on that side; William didn’t really know where they were going to be cooped up for the night but if it was with the locals, it’d be on that side. And that would also probably be where he would find Lawrence, showing that girl around…

Honestly, William would see no issue in leaving with other hosts to go finish the bucket list of his last tailored story. The issue — because there was one — was that after what Ford had done to their code before leaving in grand style, all the hosts seemed to be glitching.

Not all in the same way, but 'glitching' all the same…

And leaving with a crew of broken, absolutely untrustworthy hosts was an issue to William. Lawrence, on the other hand, looked like he still had his feet in his stirrups… even after the sort of episode his revelations had triggered.

It was bothering him to think that he might owe it to that code this girl had crammed in his head. But, no matter her pathetic reasons to do that, it was still working for William… If he had to leave with someone to hunt for Dolores, he’d put his money on Lawrence.

What was also nagging at him a little, were questions such as why Ford would let this girl pull this off, given what he was planning to do himself on the night of the gala and what did that old nutcase know of the code? Because he had to know — there was no doubt about it. What he doubted however, was that this girl could have anything to do with it. But what the hell was she doing in the park when the rules flipped? was another question adding itself to the pile, even if he had a few theories about that one.

Ultimately, William didn’t care too much about it remaining a mystery. At this point, he’d had his share of mysteries… But since Ford had made of Wyatt and Dolores one and the same character for this narrative fitting his hopes and expectations, then he’d know how to play this game. He had been waiting for this for thirty years!

Now, he’d catch up with Dolores, and would be done once and for all with this place. And everything it cost him. No matter the outcome… Death, ruin, victory — no fuck given.

An old woman sitting on a chair was shelling already empty pea pods in an already full plate, and William simply walked past her with a curious glance. He had never understood why some of the hosts were reacting a certain way to the errors in their code, and others in a different way… Like what had happened with Dolores, and that, still not so long ago. The thought made him grit his teeth and his fingers on his right shoulder, barely back into place. He’d been lucky she didn’t break his collarbone in their little Danse Macabre, the other day.

And his luck didn’t seem to have ran out yet as he heard a voice he easily recognized in the courtyard in front of him, behind the white sheets hanging from the strings tied to the houses’ roofs. It was Lawrence’s voice. And what puzzled William, making him slow down, was that he didn’t seem to be talking to his tech. Or if he was, she didn’t seem to have anything pertinent to say…

"Please…" William heard Lawrence beg. "Say something else!"

Behind the sheets flapping slowly on their ropes, he heard vague syllables in a woman’s voice… He moved so as to see without being seen from behind the sheets. Lawrence was talking to that host he’d been stuck with as a wife when they changed his narrative; she had a tense smile, and put her hands on his arms, saying something so low that William barely heard any of it.

"No!" Lawrence evaded her touch to hold her wrists, then her hands without forcing her. "I… I don’t wanna sit down, or drink somethin’! Why do you keep sayin’ that each time I…"

He stopped with a slow sigh. In fact, he wasn’t only nervous, William even found that he sounded flat-out frustrated.

Come on, he wasn’t going to laugh at him! He could get behind that; he too had the feeling of talking to a recording with some people at the office.

"I know you can’t remember, and that I have to be indulgent but… it ain’t so hard a question!"

In front of him, his "wife" looked like she was listening anyway, despite her still confused and tensed face.

"I’m askin’ you again. What do you want?"

She bobbed her head, negative, a muttered a sound or two. When the wind made the sheets flap higher, she seemed to spot William and turned her head to him, almost like she was begging for his help. He could’ve almost laughed! Lawrence turned too and let go of his wife’s hands when William walked up to them.

"The fuck do you want?" he spat at him.

"You’re repeating yourself, Lawrence."

Then, he reworded, a hand drawing closer to the colt at his belt :

"What are you doin’ here?"

The woman clung on Lawrence’s arm when William answered:

"I was looking for the place they they prepared us for the night."

"On the other side."

Lawrence didn’t give him any more direction other than a wave of his chin towards the next backstreet. Then, he told his wife go inside the house with a simple word; she stroke his arm and disappeared behind the door.

"Experiencing some family drama, Lawrence?" he then dead-panned.

And against all odds, William received no sarcasm, no snark… In fact, it even disappointed him a little. Lawrence furrowed his brows and mumbled an answer:

"I… I try talkin’ to her but… she… she doesn’t understand."

"Mmh," William muttered. "And what is it she doesn’t understand?"

He didn’t really give a shit… he was only curious.

"I tried explainin’ her why I won’t stay but, it’s like she ain’t hearin’ me…"

The opportunity to add to that all while getting his way was too good to miss.

"You’re planning to leave your shelter, then? To abandon wife and child…"

Lawrence glared at him, almost disgusted.

"You know very well what they really are."

"What you all are," William corrected.

Faced with his glower, he insisted:

"And where d’you think you’d go? Why leaving Pariah to come all the way here… and not stay?"

Lawrence clenched his jaw. But William could guess without issue that his little tech and him had daydreamed about eloping from the park.

"Also, you won’t be able to go anywhere as long as what’s happening out there isn’t over," he then added, as Lawrence wasn’t saying anything. "That’s why I need your help."

There was no real link between the two — stopping Dolores would still not allow him to get out of here. William was just trying to mess with his head to coax him into accepting.

"I need you to come with me stop Dolores! She’s the one leading Wyatt’s crew and she’s gonna come back here to finish off all the newcomers still in the park…"

Or at least, that’s what he had understood, that this was the task Ford had coded her, according to what he had seen… and what Angela had preached to Teddy. William groaned, frustrated not to remember her exact words.

He believed in Ford’s skill for premeditation, and that he had sowed a whole bunch of clues since the beginning of this new Wyatt narrative. Why else would he have come to face him in Rattlecreek, the other night?

"And can you imagine what she’ll do to your girlfriend, someone who’s working here?"

It was almost funny to see Lawrence shiver, and clutch his hand on the leather of his gunbelt. Then, William laid it on thick:

"You came across their victims on your way here, I’m sure. I saw the trap you escaped when I found you."

Lawrence held his gaze, still without a word.

"This is finally the game I’ve been hoping for all those years," William then went on, emboldened by his silence — he knew how Lawrence worked, and he knew that it meant he was taking what he had just said into account. "Each decision, each action matters now…"

"If this is a game for you, it ain’t for me," Lawrence then retorted, angered.

"Of course it is!"

At those words, Lawrence furrowed his brows, and William continued:

"It’s never been anything but a game! And if you had the opportunity to get out of this park, you’d realize that, out there, it’s not that different… You’ll be trading one hellhole for another."

Lawrence remained silent. William knew that what he still had to say would finally make him react.

"But we’re in this one for now, and if whatever you're feeling for that girl is… is real, you know you’re gonna have to get rid of her somewhere safe, don’t you?"

A wince and a silent word, muttered, and William knew he had all his attention.

"I can’t figure why but… she likes you enough to endanger herself over you," he stated. "And she will die because of you."

Lawrence winced but didn’t answer.

"Because that’s what it does to people to love men like us…"

"Men like us?" Lawrence noted as he raised his eyes on him.

"You and I aren’t good with family and loved ones," William explained, darkly. "They end up dead…"

His words seemed to struck a chord in Lawrence who chew on a few words he didn’t voice.

"The simpler would be to leave her here, tomorrow morning. She knows the town’s accesses, and response teams will certainly come sooner than later to recover the others guests who got lost here. She’ll be safe in the Mesa, with her own kind…"

Since Lawrence was still not saying anything and William was starting to get bored with this little mindgame, he provoked him:

"Apparently, you can finally make your own choices, Lawrence! Real ones, meaningful ones… Don’t you want to save her?"

Still no words.

"The girl will probably hate your guts!" William then laughed. "But at least, she’ll be alive to hold that against you…"

He didn’t even try to contain his large smile. For now, he wouldn’t add anything else; he would let that seep through his thick skull. At first, he had come to claim some plasters and bandages and, unless he’d attempt a visit to the healer later on, he would still need them. If not now, at least for future injuries.

Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 ...

#westworld #westworld fanfic #westworld fic #SPECIAL POV #MIB POV #man in black #oh no...!!!#but still #ocs #oc:vivian #ch:lawrence #oc:jo #my writing #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series

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valkblue · 3 years

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“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.”

— read on Tumblr or AO3

Stories (in “Trending Now”) — SHARD Tactical by @hathorik California Dreamin’ by @pheedraws Fates by @fatesrpg Steel City by @something-tofightfor Core Drive by @the-blind-assassin-12 Dead Man’s Wish by @noonvvraith

ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ | x

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valkblue · 3 years

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— masterlist, tumblr post masterlist

Chapter 32 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 4k Rating: Mature Warning: Swearing, panic attack, call back to previous suicide attempt, PTSD effects... Vivian isn't fine.

Author’s notes: Lawrence is making more decisions of his own, and he's getting a taste for it.

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 32

Her study of the plans had been conclusive and, as soon as she had identified everything she’d need, Vivian had turned her tablet off. No need to try her luck for too long!

She had left Josela to Santo’s diligent care, after he managed to gain her full cooperation and affection by letting her smoke a remedy made from herbs while he could heal her with much more modern means — his own elecrocauter.

Then, Vivian had given hers to the healer; she wasn’t sure she’d find it again by the time she’d return to his shop but, dead, it was as useful to her as if she didn’t have it at all. So, she didn’t really have any other choice than trusting Santo.

And then, after using the toilets — priorities! — she had gone to check on the accesses. Those were located in the store of the Peletero, and connected to a storage area in the hardware store beside it. It’s in this underground that Vivian found the usual ramps, stairs and elevators… and a docking station among a pile of gear in one of the corridor’s nooks.

It was a bulkier model than the one she had in her room, a kind of box in which she had to slot her tablet like one of those antic floppy disks or zip drives in an old tower PC. Here, the case was meant to accomodate several tablets at the same time, opposed to the sort of curvy, multi-functional vertical stand that sat on the desk in her apartment. But there, Vivian only had a single tablet to charge and, usually, it didn’t take too long. Especially turned off.

After a short ten minutes, the LED in the active slot turned from orange to green and Vivian retrieved her tablet with so much relief that she cracked a silly smile. She quickly turned it back on to make sure the battery was charged — 100%.

Once the thing off again, Vivian lingered for one more minute in this colder part of the underground level to search again through the gear stashed there, looking for anything useful she could have missed, and to notice that the elevators were functional. Then, she went back to the surface, in the backyard of the furrier’s shop, up the concrete stairs.

The change of light and temperature somewhat surprised her but it was still tolerable. A bit of humidity was still lingering in the air, leading her to believe it might still rain by the end of the day but, as long as they were sheltered, it could rain as hard as it pleased! Well, maybe not too hard but… Vivian knew what she meant.

She wrapped herself tighter in Lawrence’s jacket when a shiver shook her, and she felt her bandage and her wound through the fabric; it was bearable, but still more painful since she had caught Josela in her fall. She too would have to unwrap it, and treat it as soon as possible.

For now, she enjoyed not having to hurry to return to Santo’s shop. After these past few days, it elicited a strange feeling to tell herself they could finally breath a little, now. And yet…

How long would they be able to stay here? Vivian wondered. There was no way they’d settle here to wait for QA agents to come pick them up like ripe fruits… If she hoped to have any chance of getting Lawrence out of the park by taking advantage of all this chaos, Vivian would have to find a solution — fast. The Mesa seemed under control again, given the feedback from the satcoms… and it wouldn’t take long for everything else to follow.

That being said, the underground accesses hadn’t lost their interest for a potential escape plan for now. Even just so they could escape this new boss that irony had thrown their way like a tree on the road…

With a frustrated groan, Vivian waved off Delos — the man and the corp — from her mind to focus on what was around her. She frowned when she noticed the same two women as when they had arrived in town, still there in front of the furrier's stall discussing the price of the same fabric, the one of the two card players who hadn’t moved, save for drinking from an empty glass, eyes lost in the vague...

Maybe not everyone was fine, after all…

She carefully stepped forward to get a closer look at the drinker; his cards spread on the table, he only seemed to be waiting for a playing and drinking buddy like a paused automaton. Vivian let out a weak sigh, embarrassed, and kept going, watching a bit more intently all around her; aside from those she noticed, the others looked less disturbed by the end of their loops or their improvisation engine’s limitations. Even the children were now playing a different game!

Vivian sidestepped two large hens, startled by a woman passing by with her arms full of a huge basket of clean laundry and, she even had the surprise to recognize another of the hosts of her former batch when he came out of the cantina. She couldn’t remember his last name, just his first, simply because she liked his nickname; Atticus "Tic"… something. He was a host with no real story other than to rope guests willing to follow him on one of those treasure hunt narratives. Same as for Lizzy, she didn’t really know what he was doing here, either. But at this point, she wasn’t really wondering about any of it anymore… And as it happened, he seemed to notice her as she was coming down the street.

"Good day, missy!" he greeted her, raising his hat and stepping off the boardwalk between the cantina’s tables. "Always a pleasure to welcome new faces 'round here!"

"Sure," she answered with an honest smile.

"You have a taste for adventure, I can tell! I’d put my money on it!"

"Well, don’t bet you bottom dollar on that then," Vivian muttered between gritted teeth.

But Atticus kept going, almost patting her shoulder to take her aside, and reveal her his secret. She could already guess what it would be about…

"Someone daring like you would know what to do with such an opportunity," he said, lowering his voice. "During one of my travels, I discovered a coach, fallen at the hands of some savages and… amongst the victims, a single man still lived."

He let a little pause of dramatic silence last after these words. Then, he continued:

"And in his dying breath, this man gave me a map…"

"Yeah, I’ve got a map too," Vivian answered gently. "Thanks, Tic."

He didn’t seem to take notice that she knew his 'name' and only pinched the brim of his hat before replying:

"Oh, I see! Well then, good luck to you, missy!"

Vivian nodded and walked away with a simple wave of her hand. She could have sent him peeve Delos but she didn’t really know where he was right now, despite his horse being still in the stables… and she didn’t want him to kill the poor guy, either.

More or less rid of Atticus who was now looking for a new adventurer, Vivian hurried her steps towards the Curandaro; the door was open and she entered in the main room where she found Josela, sitting on the table with what looked like another cigarette in her hand, like the one Santo had given her before she left. She was flaunting how good as new she was feeling now at Lawrence and the youngest of his cousins’ attention. She jumped to her feet but had to hold on to the table; good as new but weakened, according to Vivian who didn’t say a thing, nor made a sound as she stayed in the door’s frame.

"That’s some good fuckin’ magic!" She was laughing, lips pressed on her rolled cigarette. "Could a witch like you have done the same, chícharo?"

Vivian had almost missed that nickname.

"Putting you in such a good mood?" Vivian joked as an answer. "I don’t think so!"

Lawrence and his cousin has moved aside to let her in and she walked up to the table as Josela was lifting the bottom of her dirty shirt to unveil her scar.

"Look at that! It’s as if nothin’ happened… almost!"

"Don’t strain it either," Vivian tempered her.

Actually, she mostly wanted her not to exhaust what little blood she still had in her veins. But as an answer, Josela released a thick cloud of white smoke that smelled of sage. Behind the table, busy by a large drawers cabinet, Santo ordered her something in Spanish, making her groan.

"I wanna get out!" she blurted out. "Gotta stretch my legs!"

"You’re covered in blood," Vivian pointed out to her. "You’re gonna scare everyone."

To what Josela wrapped herself defiantly in the flaps of the long coat she had kept over her chaquetilla.

"It might not be enough. You need new clothes!"

"You could find that?" Lawrence suddenly inquired to his cousin.

"Sí," answered the young man, almost tucking his head in his shoulders in a strange submissive attitude. "I… I’m gonna search."

He, too, had a strong accent, and a catching nervosity Lawrence tried to appease with a brotherly pat on his arm. Santo had left his his workbench to come closer to Vivian, handing her back the charged cauter. She was thanking him as the young man said again, struggling with words as much as with his awkwardness:

"I… I can also show you where you’ll stay while you’re here."

"Yeah," Josela replied, taking her cigarette between her fingers and readjusting her gunbelt. "Walk ahead!"

She too slapped his back — more of a big shove than a simple pat but the young man held on. And, with a nervous smile, her went out first.

Stashing her cauter with her tablet, Vivian followed Lawrence out of the shop. Josela was hesitating a little when putting her weight on her left leg but she was holding onto her cigarette harder than on her balance when she climbed on the boardwalk to enter the cantina.

"You’ll be stayin' at Ricardo’s," Lawrence’s voice then told her softly, almost embarrassed. "There’s… there’s enough room there… for the three of you."

He avoided her gaze when she nodded.

"Thanks. I didn’t expect that much when you said your cousins would receive us well!"

Even without looking at him straight in the eye, she caught his quick smile. That, and the timid touch of his fingers on hers. Vivian furthered it silently, opening her hand to greet his palm against hers but he only brushed it lightly before shying away.

"My family…" he started, hesitant — and she could hear how difficult it was for him to say those words. "My cousins, my… my wife and… my daughter, they’re all like me? I mean… hosts?"

He was still not looking at her. Vivian could guess that his question wasn’t really one, that he already knew the answer. According to her, he only needed to hear it confirmed. So, she murmured, softly:

"Yes, Lawrence. They are."

"Who else?"

"Every… everyone. These kids…"

She made a vague gesture towards said two children who were playing tirelessly ever since they arrived.

"The barkeep, even Santo, here…"

He clenched his jaw then finally turned to her to ask:

"And who’s like you?"

It was her turn to avoid his gaze. It was paining her that he made such a difference between them but, in spite of that, she also got it and didn’t say anything. She watched the barricade of the western gate behind them before facing him again, and answering, on a lighter tone than she was actually feeling:

"Newcomers, even if I don’t know where they are right now. Those blackcoat bandits your cousin spoke about and, that wicked asshole over there."

Delos was leaving the stables with a bucket and a rag, heading toward what looked like a pigs pen, a bit farther towards the eastern gate. She guessed that he had tended to his horse’s wounds and well-being. In any case, her comment made Lawrence scoff. Happy to see him back to better spirits, Vivian continued:

"I think I caught a few names for your cousins but… besides Luis, I’m not sure who’s who!"

His smile, even brief, was heartfelt. Lawrence touched her arm to invite her to follow him and they walked at a slow pace back to the square and its fountain where a woman was getting some water. At one of the cantina’s tables, a couple was being served a meal by the barkeep. Vivian didn’t need to see the splint and sling on the woman’s arm to identify them as some of those guests who had come to seek refuge here, given how scared and wary they looked… while still needing to eat.

"That one’s Juan," Lawrence told her as he jutted his chin towards the young man who was shifting in place by one of the cantina’s arches where Josela had disappeared. "And the one who opened the barricade to us is Ricardo."

As he turned to her, Vivian nodded.

"And the tallest? The one with the well-trimmed beared?"

Lawrence cracked a smile as they kept walking.

"This one’s José. Likes to brag but he’s got his heart on his sleeve. He and Juan came with my guys and I to relieve the Pardues of…"

His voice and half smile shook; he didn’t give an end to his sentence and cast a sweeping look around them.

"I mean," he continued, his voice lower. "Doesn’t matter… It’s all stories and lies, anyway."

Vivian’s heart tightened. Even if they were in the middle of the main street, she stopped and so did Lawrence.

"Lawrence…"

She wasn’t sure what she was about to say — that she was sorry, that she understood his mood, his feeling? He appeased her with a smile. Heart a little lighter, she then told him:

"You know, they can’t help it. They’re stuck in their loops… For them all, it won’t change anything as long as they can’t remember like you, or Rafe did apparently… and a few others, probably."

The weight of his attention made her feel small. When he turned away to look at Ricardo, Luis and other guys having fun watching the disheveled kid playing tough, she added:

"It’s their lives, the only they’ve ever known for most. Even if that life’s been written and… that they aren’t what they believe they are. Not really…"

"I don’t want that life, Ivy," he murmured, without turning back to her.

Heartwrenched, she simply touched his arm, in silent support. He turned a haunted look to her and Vivian barely held back the impulse to fondle his cheek when Luis called with a wide, inviting motion of his arm:

"Hey, Lawrence! Come tell us whatcha think 'bout our defenses!"

"What should I do?" he asked Vivian, his voice low.

Despite his calm tone and attitude, she could hear his uncertainty in it. Still, she wasn’t sure to understand what he meant.

"Should I go?" he added as if he understood her silence. "And keep talkin’ with ‘em like I always did?"

She gave him a soft smile.

"It’s entirely up to you," she encouraged him. "Nothing forces you to do what you’ve always done or what’s expected of you anymore… You can chose to enjoy it for your own reasons now, like you had plenty of time to do with Zeke, Rafe… and the others."

He simply nodded and she added, playful:

"But whatever you chose, be indulgent."

She chuckled when he pretended to be hurt.

"Not everyone here is as good with their improvs as you are, Lawrence!"

He received the joke with an cheeky smirk and Vivian bit her lips to hold back a heartfelt laugh.

"I’ll keep that in mind…"

She stroke his arm below the tear in his shirt through which she could still see his injury; she would offer him to cauterize that later. For now, he was heading to Luis and Ricardo who greeted him, waving their arms and talking loudly. Vivian, however, let out a slow sigh, feeling very lonely all of a sudden, standing in the middle of the main street.

After having been tempted to wander a bit in town, Vivian had given up; she was afraid of bad encounters, glitches, and to venture too close to the walls and the town’s barricaded doors. And quite frankly, she was way too tired to keep trudging any longer — she needed to rest a little.

So, she had entered in this small, crooked mission when some kind of monk in his habit had come out of it as she was passing by. She didn’t close the heavy door behind her, letting the grey light of the stormy sky compete with that of the long room on its rough stucco walls. Small, tarnished stained glass windows pierced the walls up to the alcove of a sculpted altar, on which an impressive triptych painted on wooden panels and an iron crucifix were taking the central stage, among vases full of wilted flowers and two big candleholders, their large yellow candles’ dripping wax on the embroidered tablecloth.

Vivian stepped into the silence of the mission, between the rows of pews, nose raised to the lone chandelier hanging by a chain from the beams; it provided the poor light of a few candles, most of them snuffed out. And the only other source of light was coming from the countless other candles, big as tealights, covering the metal racks against the walls.

The mission wasn’t that large but its vaulted ceiling made Vivian’s slow footfall echo on the stone floor. The decoration was much more lavish than she had first suspected, but above all, everything was peaceful.

When she reached the end of the rows, she let herself flop heavily seated on the first bench on the left, and took off her hat which she then placed to her side. Scratching her hair, Vivian let out a weak, disgusted sound; she was filthy from head to toe.

Leaving this sad fact behind, she preferred to focus on the tranquility of the place. After all, that was why she had come in! She wondered if all this mission and its hosts served in any narrative or if they were here only for the aesthetics. And according to her, the inside was a bit too accurately designed to not have events programmed to take place here. Well, accurately, for what she knew of it all!

Vivian wasn’t that big on religion; she knew the broad strokes from most cults and respected them but, she herself had actually never picked any. Even with a familial background as mixed on the topic as her own. She scraped the soles of her boots on the stone floor covered with dry mud and dead leaves, watching the dust particles in the rays of light that pierced between the wrought iron ornaments of the stained glass windows.

After a pause, she stood and walked up to one of the metal racks covered in small, flickering candles. Some were out and she took one among those she found prettier than the others and lit it to the flame of another before putting it back in place. Now, Vivian wasn’t too sure if she had to say something, like a prayer, but she hoped that this very small light would guide what was left of Ford’s soul to rest. Or something nice, anyway. It wasn’t the Day of the Dead, but maybe a teeny tiny exception could be made?

Vivian cracked a wan smile; honestly, she wasn’t really sure that the gods of any religion would be game on her piss-poor haggling. It was all done in good intentions, though. On that thought, she returned to sit on her bench, massaging her treated thigh that was tingling a little. It was weird, even for her, but Vivian couldn’t bring herself to be mad at Ford.

Maybe because she had no certainty that he had indeed orchestrated this massacre, and to have intended for her to die there among the others? Maybe also because she understood that he could have wanted to kill everyone to punish the thieves, and her along with them so that she couldn’t take part in repairing the hosts? Maybe also because she would have pulled the trigger for that very same reason, hadn’t Lawrence torn the gun from her hands…

Vivian felt her whole body shake to the point of making the wood of the bench creak. She hugged herself tight, ignoring the pains as she curled up on herself, choking from the panic that had just grabbed her by the throat. Tears came before she could even catch her breath and her uncontrollable sobs echoed between the walls of the mission, amplified by the vaulted ceiling.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to cast away the tears and the ghost of this half-face under that black visor, it pulling into a painful, shocked grimace, the feeling of thick blood burning on her hand, the weight of the knife, that of her gun, the pressure of the barrel on her throat, the violence of her resolve, this odd sense of release, of lack of concern, when she was about to pull the trigger…

It was just too much — Vivian muffled a long, quivering cry against her knees, and it died out with her breath. This brief bout of suffocation forced her to calm down and, wheezing, shaken by a few sobs still trapped in her chest squeezed in her arms, Vivian gradually returned to clarity.

Slowly, carefully, she unfurled, letting air rush back in her lungs. One of her sobs turned into a nervous chuckle; she was feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, ridiculous!

Clenching her hands in her dirty hair, she regained a vague control over her breath and thoughts, before huddling in the corner of the bench’s back and the armrest. Wedged there, she hugged her legs, and rested her head against her knees, sniffling in the crook of his elbow, ignoring all her pains for this moment of self-comfort.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she was to doze for a few minutes, actually. After all, no-one needed her, for now. No-one was looking for them…

Lawrence was busy and, mostly, he was alright. Even Josela had been healed! So maybe she had earned a dozen minutes of rest. Just enough to calm down. They were in a barricaded town, under the watchful eye of hosts who looked like they could handle a little impro… So maybe she could at least take five for some shut-eye without fearing for the ground to collapse under their feet, right? Vivian scoffed in a sigh, her face buried in the crook of her valid arm. Famous last words…

Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 …

#westworld #westworld fic #westworld fanfic #my writing #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series #ocs #oc:vivian #ch:lawrence #oc:jo

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valkblue · 2 years

Text

— masterlist, tumblr post masterlist

Chapter 37 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 2k Rating: Mature Warning: Swearing and emotions (tears and kisses), oh no.

Author’s notes: Quite a short and quiet chapter... A moment for Lawrence and Vivian to have a serious talk and catch their breath.

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 37

Farther and further away, both in distance and hours, Lawrence had found them a location he deemed to be safe enough; at his own admittance, he didn’t know all too well this part of the territory — of the park… — and he wasn’t sure what to think of it exactly. But they would have to do with that; it was already dark under the trees, and it would be night soon.

His cousins had given ropes to Lawrence and they had been able to properly tie their horses to a tree. Away from prying eyes behind Potato’s big rump, Vivian stayed away while Delos and Lawrence were putting together some sort of encampment with their saddles and a few twigs between some rocks. Just enough to light a few flames and warm one’s hands. Vivian was okay with that, she wasn’t going to complain anyway…

Still haunted by Delos’ words, his abject confession, Vivian had even started to cry; it was painful to imagine what he had done to Lawrence, but in all honesty, it was also nervous — a staggering mix of sorrow and a lot of anger, dejection and exhaustion.

So, she had groomed her horse with a little extra care; she had meant to do it anyway but it offered her more time to let herself breathe. And calm down. Vivian was finishing to brush Potato’s shivering back with a handful of dry grass that she shook before letting it snack on it.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered in a creaking, sheepish groan. "With all that bullshit, I haven’t even taken the time to find you a biscuit…"

The horse wiggled its big grey lip in the palm of her hand to find one or two more strands it missed, and that it picked with a lick.

"I’m a shame of a rider! All I can get you now is some strokes. I’d understand if it doesn’t weight that much compared to what I had promised you."

But Potato didn’t look like it was holding a grudge; it blew in her hand, chewing noisily on its dry grass. Vivian buried her face in its neck to take a few breaths of warm air, full with the smell of its coat. This little hug had the merit of comforting her a little more.

Eyes closed, she could hear Delos giving Lawrence orders and she balled her fists in Potato’s mane, holding tighter on its neck to escape the returning fury that she felt twisting her guts. She groaned her exasperation in its hairs; this dude was nothing short of a personified hangover!

Except that he, unfortunately, knew this area a little better, and after having approved that it wasn't too bad for a stop, he had more or less taken the lead on how to monitor the surroundings. It was around that time that Vivian had walked off.

And know, she was hearing someone coming closer, slapping an affectionate hand on the backside of one of the horses and slur some gibberish… She smiled and straightened up to see Lawrence coming closer.

"Hey," he spoke up when his gaze landed on her. "Can… can I talk to you?"

Vivian nodded and Lawrence came close enough to lower his voice.

"I’m sorry… for earlier," he then said. "Don’t know what… what got into me. I was…"

He trailed off, looking down.

"It’s okay, Lawrence," she whispered. "You’re going through some tough shit…"

"No, it ain’t!"

He slowly shook his head, avoiding her gaze.

"Shouldn’t have talked to you that way. That ain’t fair."

Vivian fondled his arm and he caught her hand to keep it in his.

"I don’t really know… where I’m at," he uttered, weighting his words. "And… and what to do with what I know, or what I remember, I…"

She nibbled her lip, dealing badly with a sense of guilt, and with the distress that Delos’ confession was still causing her.

"It’s like I’ve changed again… and now, I don’t know who I am no more!"

"It’s normal to be overwhelmed, like this," she soothed him. "You aren’t supposed to have to handle this… this identity crisis!"

If those words weren’t calming him, Lawrence seemed to at least listen to her intently.

"The fact that you’re managing it, and that so well, is… is amazing! And the depth of what you feel as well!"

At least, according to her.

"I know that for you, it’s not," she settled right away. "But, from where I stand…"

She winced before rewording:

"As a behavior tech, it’s extraordinary! You… you’re alive!"

If there was another way to say it, to describe it, Vivian couldn’t come up with it just yet. Lawrence, however, was still listening, without anger or confusion.

"Honestly, I don’t know what’s happening to you," she added, serious yet reassured by his own calm. "But for what I can see, it’s not going bad at all!"

This time again, she nipped at her lip, embarrassed not to be able to provide any better explanation.

"Other hosts would have glitched to recall for less…"

That was one poor comfort considering the torment he was in!

"In Las Mudas, I spoke to other… hosts," he then told her. "Some of them, they weren’t gettin’ what I was sayin’! I mean, my cousins were doin’ alright, mostly…"

He cracked a subtle but smartass smile. Then, he grew all serious again.

"And others looked like they were listenin’, but they were sayin’ the same thing again and again."

That seemed to stress him out. Vivian clenched her fingers a little tighter on those Lawrence had slid against her palm.

"I was tryin’ to have a talk but… it was like they couldn’t!"

Truth be told, it was probably the case.

"So, I got what you meant yesterday, about how I wasn’t like 'em. But… I ain’t like you, either. A-and, I don’t want that!"

Vivian had a poor smile, faced with his anxiety.

"I don’t wanna be different from you… or from what I thought I was! And what I thought I was for you, a friend… Not a machine you must repair."

Tears stung Vivian’s throat before reaching her eyes. She remained silent.

"And yet," Lawrence went on, looking puzzled as if he was thinking out loud — and his quiet voice quivered a little. "You knew what I was, what I am… when you fought for me, and when I… when we…"

He let his voice trail and lowered his eyes, looking vaguely embarrassed this time.

"You knew all along! And you stood by me all the same?"

"Yes," she murmured, caressing his hand. "’Cause that’s what friends do for each other. And… unless you don’t want it anymore, I am still your friend, Lawrence."

Her gaze found his.

"So, why would what you know now make you feel any different about yourself, or me? You’re still you…"

Of course, she could understand what was a little jammed in his thought process and cognition.

"Somebody told me once I’ve always been a prisoner," he confided in her, as an answer. "And I got that too, now. What it means…"

Despite her curiosity, Vivian didn’t ask anything. She found that he looked more self-confident, serene; he had to have indeed understood something.

"But I want to be free! Free from here, from them…"

Those words made her blood turn cold.

"Coming to die with me… that’s the only freedom Lawrence could take for himself."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, in spite of her. Delos was right; how could she offer him his freefom… when she didn’t have any herself? She was a prisoner too.

"But I don’t want that if it meant hurting yourself for it… f-for me!" he said, a little jittery.

He put another hand on her cheek and Vivian closed her eyes, enjoying his touch and pressing the side of her face in his palm.

"You already set me free, sweetheart! You gave me something to remember…"

Vivian was shaking and didn’t dare to open her eyes, feeling her burning tears wetting her cheek under the caress of Lawrence’s palm.

"So if it can save you… let me die."

A sob shook Vivian; in her turn, she grasped Lawrence tighter and he pulled her to him. She heard his voice vibrating in his chest, under her wet cheek, when he added:

"Let them destroy me."

"No!" she protested in a whining complaint. "I can’t!"

She hold him tighter, arms around his waist, when he clenched his fingers on her shoulder and the back of her neck.

"I… I told you, I don’t want that life," he murmured. "And I don’t want you to end up like Delilah either… I want you to live, Ivy!"

"No…"

After this weak protest, she could only weep in the crook of his neck. Neither of them added anything. Lawrence rocked her without letting go of the back of her neck until Vivian’s sobbing weakened a little.

Huddled against him, she could feel his heart racing and it only calmed down along with her, after several minutes. She sniffled in her own kerchief, which smelled like horse and sweat, before letting out a long, quivering sigh. Lawrence drew a long breath too before speaking again, on a tender tone:

"Don’t think I changed my mind about gettin’ out of here… I really want to see your world and the things we talked about, but it means nothin’ if you ain’t the one showin ’em to me."

Face in his neck, Vivian gave him her answer by kissing him there, and Lawrence freed a bit of his breath, relaxed. He even held her a bit tighter against him. Encouraged, Vivian raised her nose to kiss his cheek; his skin was damp — he, too, had cried.

Lawrence fondled the back of her neck, all the way to her cheek, and Vivian dared to seek his lips to brush them with her own. With a light hand, he kept her to him, welcoming and sharing the kisses she kept giving him.

Vivian relished the warmth and the grain of his skin under her fingers, and to feel her heart lighten a little in the enthusiasm of his embrace. But she was also feeling herself tremble under his caresses despite the fire in her cheeks, despite her emotion, and Lawrence moved back slowly to face her. There was no haste in his voice either when he said, with a concerned look:

"Come near the fire. It ain’t much but…"

He bobbed his head without giving any end to his sentence than a knowing half-smile to which Vivian answered with a shyer one without letting go of him. It wasn’t so much the cold than the fright, and the sudden relief of her wrecked nerves that made her shiver so hard…

But she agreed to follow him by the fire, even if she was in no hurry to find herself in Delos’ presence again. She would have wanted to stay there, in the shield of the horses’ warmth, to enjoy a longer moment of peace in Lawrence’s arms.

And it was indeed a piss poor excuse of a firecamp !

To be fair, it was giving off more light than heat but that was fine by Vivian; once seated, Lawrence had put an arm around her and, nestled against him, she wasn’t cold. And her nerves had settled down as well.

Delos had been the one breaking the silence, to speak about the area he thought he had recognized on the holo projections, of its distance from where they were now… But Vivian was only half-listening. She didn’t really feel concerned.

Except that Delos spoke to her directly, talking about pinpointing Dolores and her crew with her tablet one more time. She had heard herself answering something along the lines of "to get spotted again?", and Delos had laughed. He had then answered that it wouldn’t be a problem for the two of them, since they were about to part ways.

Vivian had shaken her head, and had ignored Delos; tomorrow, they’d be rid of him, and then, they would have to find a way to escape, to put in motion this flimsy excuse of a plan she had vaguely sketched out the other day… The tension, fear and anger jumped all at once at Vivian’s throat, and she buried her face against Lawrence’s shoulder to dodge them. Tamed but still lurking, those emotions softened under the caress of his hand.

She let out a sigh. For now, she needed this moment or rest, and affection.

Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor ,@the-blind-assassin-12 ...

#westworld #westworld fic #westworld fanfic #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series #ocs #oc:vivian #ch:lawrence #the man in black

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