Terrorshocked!

Struggle

       The prospector's scream rings through out the cold air of the chapel, getting softer as his chair shoots into the sky, reminding Frederick he is the only player left. His head throbs with pain and his limbs are sore—he's sure he's sprained his ankle—but there is no room for complaints in a match.

The composer doesn't consider that they've already lost, or that this is a pointless struggle. Rationality pales in comparison to the throbbing of his head and the agony of his body, anyway.

So he pushes on (crawls on, rather) to where he last saw the dungeon: in front of the cemetery. The air turns lighter, fresher; and he knows he's outside the church.

Then his heartbeat fastens, and oh—the hunter is nearby.

The blood in his veins turns into dread, and soon he can see the Hermit's polished shoes in front of him.

He waits, with baited breath, for the Hermit to pick him up and tie him to a balloon and to just get this over with; but for a while, nothing happens.

"He's biding his time", Frederick realises. He couldn't go on for much longer—his limbs felt like jelly and his head hurt like hell and he should just surrender.

But the dungeon is right there! So, stubbornly (probably foolishly, in the other man's mind) he pushes on.

He hears the Hermit make a sound, almost like a sigh, before he is hoisted into the air and tied to balloons—the composer feels a sort of hopeless relief settle. After he's sent back to the manor, he could finally rest; so the wrinkle in his brow disappears and he lets out a breath to collect himself...

And he is dropped down in front of the dungeon.

There's little time for gratitude (he feels like he's ready to sleep through the entire week), so he mutters his thanks under his breath and tumbles down into the dark dungeon.

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A/N: HI GUYSB😀 finally have more time to write stuff :33 ALSO IM STARTING TO PLAY MORE PPL SO EXPECT TO SEE EM SOON 😁😁 btw have yall seen aventurine cause god.....