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Arthur probably should have felt more frightened to find himself waking up with no idea where he was or how he had gotten there, but he mostly just felt tired and a little exasperated. Hot sun beat down on his aching body wherever he was, which was such a sharp contrast to before that it left him dizzy.
"Fuck, John, what happened?" Arthur groaned, rolling onto his stomach. He braced himself to stand, then froze.
At this point in his life, Arthur was accustomed to waking up and immediately feeling pain of some kind. The last few months had been one horror after another, and there had been no time to heal in between. The closest he'd gotten to 'rest' was a month-long coma and three months of imprisonment, which hardly counted. So, yes, these days it was more surprising when he woke up and his body didn't cry out for some kind of relief that he would not be able to provide.
That being said, he had gotten used to the few parts of his body where, instead of discomfort, he felt nothing. So it was with confusion followed by rising alarm that Arthur realized he could feel his left hand. Could feel the sharp lance of pain where, in feeling the ground around him, he jammed John's wooden pinkie against the dirt and agitated the tender flesh where it met with rough bark.
John still hadn't said anything.
"John?" Arthur whispered, voice tight. "John, are you there?"
There was no answer.
"No," Arthur said, stomach dropping out beneath him as panic began to take him. He scrambled to his feet, frantic. "No, no, no, not again. John!"
Arthur's shout echoed back to him, bouncing off of walls Arthur couldn't see. Where in the world was he?
Not the most pressing question, it turned out.
Arthur's echo was not the only thing that answered him once he raised his voice. It was not the familiar reassurance he was hoping for, but it was a response nonetheless. It was low, and it rumbled in Arthur's bones and made his heart stop in his chest.
A growl.
"Oh, fuck me," Arthur breathed. He held perfectly still, mind racing. No John to tell him what this thing was or whether it looked like something they could fight. No John to tell him which way was the best escape route. Arthur didn't even know for certain where the threat was ; the sound had come from the left, but he couldn’t know exactly how far. (It sounded close and very, very big.)
For a moment, neither of them made a sound. Then, the creature made another rumbling noise, followed by the crunch of rock under a large body, and then Arthur was running.
It was terrifying to run when he couldn't see, and it wasn't an irrational fear. He had barely been moving for three seconds when he slammed into a wall.
Pain exploded from his right arm (really everything on that side of his body) as he collided awkwardly with hard, rough stone, but there was no time to dwell on how much it hurt. The beast, whatever it was, was right behind him, was still growling, the sound now interspersed with strange yips and barks. Arthur didn't wait to regain his balance, simply pushed off the wall and started scrambling along it, the sound of pursuit dogging his heels.
Arthur hadn't survived this long by giving up when things seemed impossible, and he wasn’t about to start now, but–
The next time Arthur slammed into stone, he didn't have time to right himself before the creature was on him. He felt two huge, clawed hands snatch him up from behind, lifting him into the air and pulling him into a bear hug that pinned his arms to his sides. He felt the vibrations of the thing's growls through the soft flesh behind him, and something hard bumped the top of his head--the bottom of this thing's chin? Arthur couldn't even begin to imagine what the creature looked like.
He opened his mouth to shout for John once more--no matter how pointless it might have been--when tentacles suddenly made themselves known amongst this creature’s many advantages. They wrapped themselves around his face and shoulders, covering everything but his nose, only barely allowing him to breathe. That was when the terror truly set in.
Arthur thrashed and screamed, but he could barely hear himself against the makeshift gag–though that might have been his own racing heartbeat drowning him out–and the limbs restraining him didn't budge. In his desperation, he opened his mouth and bit down on a tendril as hard as he could. It was soft and dry and yielded under his teeth, but the skin did not break. The creature hissed its displeasure, but, to Arthur’s dismay, its hold actually tightened instead of releasing him, forcing the air from his lungs with terrifying strength.
I'm sorry, John, Arthur thought through the pain. He would fight to his last breath, but he couldn't see a way out of this one. His heart ached as he realized that he would never be able to say goodbye, or even know what had happened to his only remaining friend.
Arthur expected to be crushed to death in this creature's grip or torn to shreds by the claws he could feel digging into his side. Neither came to pass. After a moment, the grip actually slackened–not enough to release, but enough that he could breathe again–and then he could feel the creature moving, spiriting him further into this unknown space. Arthur somehow managed to find room for a new worry; if he did manage to escape this creature, how would he get back to where he woke up? Perhaps it was a foolish thought, but, if he was going to find John, he would need to start from the beginning, and he couldn't look for clues in a place he couldn't find.
"Mmm!" Arthur objected, resuming his attempts to break free, but it was no use. His strongest kick only caused the beast to huff and readjust its grip, and, when Arthur tried again, he found that he could no longer move even that much. Whatever this creature was, Arthur wasn’t going to be able to fight it off. His only option was to hope that it released its hold on him at least once before it decided to kill him–or whatever it intended by carrying him away.
Rather than waste energy on a pointless endeavor, he focused on trying to understand his surroundings. He didn't hear anything helpful at first, but he did realize that he no longer felt the sun beating down on his head. After a moment, the quality of the sound changed as well, reflecting the echo of the creature’s passage differently; had they found a smaller space?
For no reason that Arthur could discern, the creature came to a halt, and Arthur felt the muscles behind him tense as the creature fell unnaturally still. It even seemed to stop breathing, and if Arthur were not pressed right up against it to feel its heartbeat (and the fact that it was still restraining him, of course), Arthur would have no idea it was there.
Arthur made a noise of confusion; what was it doing? He could understand if the creature was dragging him back to its lair to be devoured, but now it was just standing there, holding him. Arthur wriggled experimentally, only to once more have the air forced from his lungs as everything tightened around him. Arthur groaned, and the grip almost immediately loosened, though the beast still held him more tightly than it had before. A warning?
Arthur didn't have long to wonder what this creature's goal was. A sound reached his ears a moment later; the scrape of claws against stone and a clicking, chirping noise that made Arthur's blood run cold. They weren't alone in this place.
So, the creature is hiding, Arthur thought. And it took Arthur with it so it wouldn't have to share its prey?
In that case, maybe Arthur could draw the attention of this new creature, use it to try and distract his captor and escape in the confusion. On the other hand, he just as easily could be killed in the struggle, crushed between large bodies or torn in half by competing jaws. Arthur could feel himself freezing in indecision, but, ultimately, it didn't matter.
Arthur realized that he could not hear the new creature anymore, and he wondered where it had disappeared to. Then, there was a sudden flurry of movement, a roar, and Arthur found himself being thrown through the air. He landed badly, the impact knocking the wind from him with a pained wheeze, but he didn't wait to get his breath back. He could hear roaring now, a deep and terrifying sound, accompanied by bird-like shrieks and more clicking. It wasn't safe here, and he needed to take the opportunity to get away while he could.
He could feel the sun on him once again, so his sudden flight had taken him out of whatever shade they had been hiding in. Arthur tried to use the sounds of violence to guess where the battle was and move anywhere it was not , but the acoustics of the space made it hard to know for sure. Ultimately, he picked a direction and ran, hands out in front of him to try and keep from bloodying his face on a stone wall. He ended up bloodying his hands instead, but at least he didn't knock himself out.
The sounds were starting to fade behind him when he finally took a beat to get his bearings, leaning against the nearest outcropping of rock for support and gasping for breath. He tried to get his thoughts in order. Between the heat, the rock, and the echoes, he guessed that he was in some kind of canyon, which did not bode well for escape routes or the kind of terrain he would have to cover. He would just have to work with what he was given.
He couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, and he wondered which creature had won. If he was lucky, they had both killed each other, though he wouldn’t count on it. Either way, he decided to take a more stealthy approach going forward. Between gaining as much distance as possible or trying not to draw attention to himself, he would take the option less likely to earn him more injuries.
He took a single step forward and felt his heart rate jump again as something snapped under his foot; the noise it made was not loud, thank god, and it sounded distinctly different from the rocks he'd exclusively stepped on so far. He carefully knelt down and brushed his hand around, ready to yank back if it was something dangerous. His brow furrowed as he found something soft and thin, and it took him a moment after picking it up to figure out what it was.
A feather, as long as his forearm.
He smelled something foul, then, and a second later he heard a hiss from right in front of him.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Arthur whispered, then screamed as he felt a sharp beak clamp down on his right arm. He had only a split-second to decide what to do; if he tried to wrench himself free, he would end up tearing the flesh of his arm, so instead he curled his left hand into a fist and lashed out. The explosion of pain in his wooden pinky, followed by the indignant shriek of the creature in front of him, let him know that the hit had landed. The beak released his arm.
Arthur scrambled away, screaming again as he felt the wind of claws swiping at his back, only barely missing the skin. His own scream was drowned out by the sound of a roar that threatened to burst his eardrums, and he felt the ground shake beneath him as footsteps pounded rapidly closer. There was another hiss, then the impact of two huge bodies colliding together, and the sound of cracking bone sent a shudder down Arthur's spine; the first beast had returned. Arthur did not stop to see how this battle would turn out. He ran.
The sun beat down on his head, and his feet beat down on the stone, and his heart beat loud in his ears, each percussion sending sharp, burning pain through the bite on his arm. He got the feeling there had been more to that creature than just sharp weapons, but he couldn't worry about that right now.
Just keep running, he thought, even as his thoughts turned sluggish and his breathing became something he had to remember to do. Run now, deal with it later.
And he did keep running. Right off the edge of a cliff.
His stomach rose in his throat as the ground disappeared underneath him. He braced himself for impact, and when it didn't come, when the ground continued to evade him millisecond by millisecond, he braced himself to once again be crawling away with broken legs.
In an unexpected turn of events, it was his arm that had Arthur screaming in pain an instant later.
A strong tendril wrapped around his wrist, snatching him from his fall. The abruptly halted descent almost yanked his arm out of socket, and he gasped as he dangled over an abyss he couldn’t see, feeling as if he might lose consciousness. Deep growls, a familiar sound at this point, came from above, and something hot and wet dripped down onto him.
"Oh," Arthur whimpered, dazed. "It's you again."
For a moment, he considered trying to escape. This tendril felt slick in contrast to the dry softness of before; he could slip free if he acted fast.
But in all of the unpleasantness he and John had survived, Arthur had come to hate the feeling of falling the most.
Besides, with how far away the ground must be, the only escape it could offer would be if the impact killed him instantly. If it didn’t– well, being devoured couldn’t be that much worse. And maybe he had gotten lucky and found a creature that didn't want to murder him; why else would it have gone to the trouble of catching him instead of scraping his body off the ground?
Maybe the fall is bottomless, and it didn’t want to lose a meal to the void, Arthur thought sardonically, but the time for changing his mind had passed. The tenuous grip firmed, and then he could feel himself being lifted up into the air.
A moment later his feet touched solid ground. Through all the pain and exhaustion, he really couldn’t see a point in holding himself up, and the beast allowed him to sink to his knees without releasing his wrist. Arthur could feel hot breath on his face and hear the beast panting heavily; he wondered if that was blood he could feel soaking through his shirt sleeve, if those other creatures had given the beast a run for its money.
Though he was still very much in danger, he at least wasn't actively running for his life (he had no choice), so he took a moment to take stock. His right arm wasn’t actually dislocated, thankfully–but he was growing more certain that the previous creature had been venomous in some way. Every heartbeat brought pulsing, stinging pain that radiated out from the bite wound, and his head was starting to spin.
Arthur really needed to deal with that, even if he had no idea how. He tugged half-heartedly against the beast’s grip, disappointed but unsurprised when it held fast.
"Would you stop playing with your food already?" Arthur muttered tiredly, no idea if the thing could understand him but mostly talking to himself. "Either that or let me go?"
The beast growled as if in answer, but, if it could understand, it didn't acquiesce in either case. Instead, more slick tentacles began wrapping around his arm, and Arthur's heart jumped in alarm as he was pulled forward.
"W-wait, what are you–" Arthur cut off as the aforementioned hot breath was suddenly very hot and very humid on his hand, and then a particularly slimy tentacle was pressing against his hand and snaking up his arm.
Oh, Jesus, are they all tongues?
"Wait, no, no, no," Arthur shouted frantically, trying to yank back, but the tendrils pulled him inexorably forward. He felt sharp protrusions (fucking teeth) brush his forearm, and then he was pulled up to the shoulder into what he could only assume was the creature's mouth.
He expected to lose the limb in the next moment, but the teeth never clamped down, nor did the tendrils tear it from his body. Instead, the mouth tentacles fully enveloped his arm, and he hissed in pain as the slimiest tendril began to lave at the torn skin.
And then Arthur got to add another tally to the "strange sensations that he never expected or wanted to feel" scoreboard as he experienced what it felt like to have his entire arm sucked on at once like a piece of hard candy.
Is it drinking the blood? he wondered, light-headed with fear and confusion.
He at least understood now why it had wrapped up his arm; its maw wasn't structured in such a way that it could fully close without biting through what it held, so the tentacles created a seal that allowed it to create suction. But why? Its mouth clearly wasn't made for this, so why go through the trouble? Was it planning to make him last? Drain him a bit at a time rather than eating him all at once?
With his free hand (John's hand), Arthur braced against the beast's mouth and tried to push himself free. When that didn't work, he started frantically feeling along its face, trying to understand the–dog? crocodile?–like skull. He tried to punch where he thought the eyes should be, only to be foiled by more fucking tendrils (the dry ones) catching him around the wrist. His arm was forced down to his side, and those huge clawed hands came forward to wrap around him. One clamped down on his left side and pinned his free arm to his torso, while the other settled on his right hip, pushing down and keeping Arthur from rising enough to bring a leg forward to kick.
"Fucking- let me go," Arthur groaned as he struggled ineffectually, too worn out for screaming. The beast once again made a noise in response, but it seemed to have difficulty with its mouth full. Arthur thought it was trying to bark; instead it sounded a bit like it was choking. The noise was almost obscene, and Arthur found himself laughing despite everything.
"Serves you right," Arthur panted, still pointlessly tugging. "I have to say, this seems like a very inefficient way to get a meal. You had to kill two whole monsters, chase me through nook and cranny, catch me midair, and all for a little blood. Haven’t you ever heard of working smarter, not harder?"
He was rambling, just talking and hoping a solution would come to him, but a burst of air came from the creature, startling Arthur as it blew his hair back. Then, the beast made a different noise, one Arthur hadn't heard in quite some time.
It's purring, Arthur thought blankly. Which was the closest word Arthur could find to describe the sound, though certainly no feline Arthur had ever encountered could reach this volume or intensity. It rumbled through the creature's throat and into Arthur's own chest, threatening to vibrate his skeleton apart. It was the least awful thing he had heard or felt all day.
Arthur vaguely wondered if it was an evolutionary trait meant to help with subduing prey, because, despite himself, he felt his body relaxing. Or maybe it was just that he had finally accepted that he couldn't do anything to change his situation, and thus there was no point in fighting. He stopped struggling and allowed himself to slump forward, resting his cheek against (what he presumed to be) the snout of the creature. It was a strange texture, warm and smooth, but the solidity and weight of the skull implied thick bone underneath.
Seeming to sense his resignation, the clawed hands gripping Arthur adjusted to something more comfortable, now almost holding him up instead of restraining him. Arthur wondered where John was and hoped that he was okay.
They remained like that for several minutes, and the only sounds were those of wet suction and that deep, rumbling purr. Arthur almost felt as though he could fall asleep leaning there. Maybe he did, because the next thing he was aware of was a feeling of deep disorientation as the creature shifted. The pressure on his arm lessened, before vanishing entirely as the mouth opened and pulled away, taking the many tendrils with it. He would have fallen over were it not for the huge hands supporting him.
"Oh, I'm not dead," Arthur murmured, rolling his aching shoulder before freezing. The pain in his arm was-- well, not all gone, but the wound no longer burned, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He raised the arm above his head, rubbed his fingers together; his hand was very pruney, but otherwise the limb seemed fully functional.
"Well, maybe the theory that you were helping out wasn't too insane after all," Arthur said, still talking to himself. The creature snorted, and Arthur felt as he was carefully lowered to lay down on his left side, the hands and the dry tendrils finally withdrawing. He rolled onto his back, staring sightlessly at the sky. He could still feel the creature's breath--was it just hovering over him? Watching? Debating which bite to take first?
It had tried to hide him from those beasts, then released him when a fight broke out. It saved him from the jaws and claws of another, caught him when he fell, and then pulled the venom from his veins.
"Alright, let's stop fucking around," Arthur said, voice too tired to inject the authority he wanted. "Can you understand me?"
Another snort.
"That's not helpful at all. Bark twice if you can understand me."
The creature growled, and Arthur's heart rate shot back up; that one sounded agitated. He flinched and tried to jerk away when something touched his leg, but the creature pinned it down under one hand. Arthur tensed, waiting to see what it would do next, but it released him after only a moment. It touched his leg again; this time Arthur didn't pull away, and he realized that it was tapping his right shin with the tip of a claw. Two taps, to be precise.
"Wait, you-- tap my left leg once if you understand me."
One tap to his left leg.
Arthur was flooded with relief, and the sudden release of tension only left him more tired. Just because the creature could understand him didn't guarantee that it was an ally, but it was looking more likely in conjunction with everything else.
"Best news I've heard all day." He sat up, figuring it was more polite to try and face his new acquaintance. "Let's do one tap for no, two taps for yes. Now, do you mean to harm me?"
One tap.
"In that case, thank you very much for your help, though I will say I have some bruised ribs that are your fault." The creature growled, and Arthur grinned despite himself. The creature could be lying, but he wasn't sure what it would get out of such a ploy, so for now he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. "Anyway, did you see when I arrived, or did you find me-- er, the question is, did you see when I arrived in this place?"
Two taps.
"Fantastic.” Arthur started musing to himself aloud, “Hm, I'm sure you could tell me a lot if I could just phrase it as a yes or no question… I don't know how I got here, so it may have been a sudden transition when I lost consciousness, or I might just not remember the journey.” He redirected back to his new acquaintance, “Was I already unconscious when I arrived?"
Two taps.
"Alright. Did you see... a portal or something that dumped me here?"
This time the creature hesitated. After a moment, it tapped his leg three times.
"Three- does that mean you don't know?"
Two taps. Arthur sighed.
"I suppose something like that might be difficult to discern. Did you see anyone with me when I arrived? Anyone who perhaps knocked me out or dragged me here?"
One tap.
"Okay... I really don't want to ask this one, but I suppose it's necessary. Are we in the Dreamlands?"
Two taps.
"I... I see. Fuck. God, damn it." His voice started to choke toward the end, and he curled in on himself, holding his stomach. It made the most sense; the real world might have monsters, but he'd never encountered three huge ones at once. But to know he was back here, after everything it took to get out...
Something brushed Arthur's back, and he started. Whatever it was immediately retracted, and the creature made a noise that Arthur could have sworn was apologetic.
"What... are you trying to comfort me?"
A moment of hesitation, then two taps. Arthur gave a wet laugh.
"Well, thank you. That's very kind of you, but I'm alright."
One tap. Arthur blinked.
"Well, now you're getting presumptuous," Arthur said, a little indignantly. The creature snorted, and Arthur made a face. "Well, it's not like you haven't earned it, I suppose. Alright, I have another question, though I'm not sure you even could know the answer to this one... God, I really don't know how to word this…” Arthur took a deep breath.
“Before I arrived here, I had a friend with me named John. Hopefully this doesn't sound too strange to a denizen of the Dreamlands, but he resided inside my head; he guided me through my eyes and spoke to me in my mind. But I can't hear him right now nor feel him in my hand. I-- I think he's gone." Arthur was going to continue, to ask the creature if it knew anything that would help Arthur find his friend, but he was interrupted.
One tap. Arthur looked blankly, sightlessly down at his leg.
"No? No what? I didn't ask a question." The creature huffed strong enough to blow some of Arthur's hair out of place, and Arthur ran back what he had just said. "No... No, John isn't gone?"
Two taps.
"You know where John is?" Arthur asked, excitement and hope growing.
Two taps.
"I-- Fantastic! Do you know-- Is he alright?"
Two taps. Arthur could have cried with relief.
"Good, good... Can you please lead me to him?"
Two taps. Arthur beamed and went to stand up, but a huge hand settling on his right shoulder stopped him. A moment later, he felt another dry, soft tendril wind its way around his left hand, carefully enough not to jar the wooden pinky. Arthur looked up uncertainly.
"What are you... Can you please lead me to John?" The creature huffed, and the tendril around his left hand squeezed firmly. Arthur felt bitter disappointment crash in his chest.
"That's-- I already told you, John isn't with me right now," Arthur said through gritted teeth. The beast growled, and Arthur had to hold back some very rash words. Had this entity been toying with him the whole time? Or had Arthur simply overestimated its intelligence?
"Would you just--" Arthur cut off with a noise of affront as another tendril wrapped around his right hand. "Oh, knock it off," Arthur snapped, trying to pull away and once again failing.
Ignoring his protests, the tendrils pulled both of his hands forward so they were held in front of him. Then he felt as they were drawn near each other until the heels of his palms were touching. Another tendril made itself known and wrapped around the two hands, binding them snugly together. The tendril constricted very lightly around his joined extremities, as if encouraging him to hold his own hand.
Now Arthur was just befuddled. What on earth was this creature doing? If this whole interaction had been a trick, he couldn't imagine what benefit hand-holding would have for this creature, nor did it hurt in any way. Perhaps 'toying' wasn't that far off-- maybe it was actually just looking to play some strange game. In either case, Arthur had neither the time nor the patience for it.
"Look-- thank you for your help with the monsters, but I have to find John. So, please, let go," Arthur said firmly, tugging at his ensconced hands. The creature growled, a little louder than before, and did not release him. "I said, let me go," Arthur ordered loudly. The growling continued, now a continuous and loud rumble. "GET OFF OF ME!" Arthur shouted, and lashed out with a foot, striking the creature on the nose, or so he guessed.
The creature snarled , and Arthur felt a cold bolt of fear in his stomach as he realized that this was when the other shoe dropped. The creature did release him then, but only his right hand was allowed to go free. His left hand was swiftly recaptured and yanked up by his face--no, his neck--and pressed against his throat. Confusion turned to alarm as a tendril then wrapped twice around his neck, pinning his hand against his jugular and threatening to choke him.
Arthur gasped in fright, but remained still. He could feel the wooden pinky of his left hand digging into his skin, could feel his pulse racing both in his wrist and in his throat. The creature huffed a warm breath in Arthur's face, then slowly, deliberately squeezed.
Understanding struck Arthur like a lightning bolt.
"John," Arthur gasped, and the grip immediately slackened. Two taps. Arthur choked again, this time on a sob. "Oh, fuck, John."
The tendrils withdrew entirely, unwinding from his neck, and once again the massive hand on his shoulder was the only thing holding him up. Arthur reached up to cover it with his own and marveled at how his whole palm only managed to blanket one knuckle. With his left hand (John's hand) he reached out to touch the creature's (John's) face. John obligingly pushed his snout into Arthur's palm, and Arthur stayed there for a moment, basking in his relief.
Then, Arthur pulled the hand back to deliver a solid thump to John's nose. No tendrils stopped him this time.
The resulting furious, incomprehensible snarling would have been the scariest sound Arthur had ever heard if he didn’t know who was making it. Arthur, what the fuck? Arthur imagined John saying, and he looked sternly in John’s direction.
"You scared the shit out of me," Arthur answered the unspoken question, scowling. The sounds turned indignant, and Arthur continued, "I'm sure it was frightening not being able to speak, but I'm also sure you could have come up with something that wasn't strangling me to communicate."
John growled, and Arthur wondered how much of his frustration stemmed from not being able to explain himself as opposed to Arthur himself. Arthur yelped as John’s snout pushed hard into Arthur's chest, knocking him roughly onto his back. Arthur concluded that most of John's frustration was with him.
"Real mature, John," Arthur grumbled. Arthur went to sit back up, but he was stopped when John settled his ridiculously massive head on his torso, thick neck resting between Arthur's legs, pinning Arthur to the ground. "Really. We're doing this now." John made a rumbling sound that sounded almost amused this time, and he reached up and tapped Arthur's hip twice. Arthur huffed, blowing some hair out of his face.
Seeing as he wasn't going anywhere, Arthur once again reached up to feel the beast's--John's--face, this time with the state of mind to be thorough.
At the moment Arthur was picturing something like a crocodile with the way his jaw lay perfectly flat on Arthur's body, but he knew John had been bending it earlier when they had hid from the monsters, so his body probably wasn’t all one plane like such a reptile. He felt the seam of John's closed mouth, and realized that this was a place where the smooth, bone like surface met with something closer to skin. Was it skin? It was soft, almost like cloth, but it was warm with life, and John growled when Arthur tried to bunch it in his hand.
Arthur felt the tip of the snout that was almost touching his chin; it tapered up into a horn just before the end, and Arthur hoped John was aware of how easily he could put Arthur's eye out if he wasn't careful. (Not that Arthur was using them at the moment, but he hardly needed any more injuries.) He stroked further down, felt two gaps in the bone where air was exiting in time with John's breathing; the nostrils, presumably. Further back and farther up were two more gaps, and John's warning rumble meant Arthur was very careful as his fingers stroked over closed eyelids. Arthur almost couldn't reach any further when he felt four little horns on top of John's head, and his fingers just barely brushed something soft. It shifted and moved to push back against his hand, and he realized that these were the tentacles that had grabbed him earlier, the dry ones. (John's tentacles originated from his head?)
Arthur didn't know how John felt about his inspection, but he at least seemed calm, only making objections when Arthur reached something sensitive and continuing to breathe steadily. He certainly wasn't uncomfortable enough to move and let Arthur up. Arthur absently stroked along the smooth snout atop him, and John let out what might have been a sigh, a slightly stronger puff of air on Arthur's face.
"Why do you feel like this?" Arthur asked, quietly. "Did you-- is this your body, or did you find your way into the eyes of this being?" A frustrated sounding grumble vibrated through Arthur's whole body. "Right, right, sorry, only yes or no questions." Arthur thought for a moment.
"Did you... "take over" this body that belonged to someone else?" One tap. "This body belongs solely to you?" Two taps. Arthur couldn't help a tired laugh. "Well, I don't know about you, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind when we talked about getting you your own body. Does that make this your... "true form," or something to that effect?"
There was a moment of hesitation, then three taps.
"Alright," Arthur sighed, giving the snout what he hoped was a reassuring pat. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together."
He doesn't need you anymore, a traitorous, self-hating voice whispered in his mind, and Arthur did everything he could to shove it down and ignore it. He can go wherever he wants, do whatever he wants. Who could stop him when he has a body like this? You were his ride before, but now you're just dead weight. If he was smart, he would leave you in the dust.
Well, he didn't, Arthur shot back internally. Otherwise he could have let the monster chickens have me, so eat a cock and shut up.
Without any apparent catalyst, John seemed to decide that it was time to get up. Arthur felt the weight disappear off his chest (really everything except his extremities), and then he felt a large knuckle nudge his hand. Arthur accepted the help, wrapping his hand around one massive finger and allowing John to pull him up into a sitting position.
"Ah, it seems I am a free man once again," Arthur teased, smiling in John's direction when he heard a huff. "Well, we're back in the Dreamlands. Any ideas on how to get home?"
"Urrrruurrrr," John growled, and it sounded different than before. Arthur frowned.
"What is it, John? I'm sorry, but I don't know what that means. Remember, one is no, two is yes, three is 'I don't know.' Hm, what else is there? I suppose four could be short for 'it's complicated.'" John snorted in frustration, but there were no taps on Arthur's legs.
"Urrrurrr... Aarruuurrr," John tried again, sounding insistent. Arthur's eyes widened.
"John, are you saying my name?"
"Arrrhurrr," John managed, and tapped Arthur's leg twice. Arthur beamed.
"Ha! Brilliant! That is a brand new body, it would make sense that it would take a while to learn how to use that tongue... Although, I suppose my name does lend itself well to growling. Do you think you'll be able to say other words once you've had more practice?" A moment of hesitation, then two definitive taps on his shoulder. Arthur laughed.
"That's the spirit." Arthur finally stood up, bracing himself with a hand on John's forearm. Arthur winced as his body objected to the change in position, and he stretched his arms toward the sky. "Fuck, we've only been here for five minutes, and this place has already made me feel like ground meat." Arthur frowned as his mind returned to the practicality of the situation.
"In case it wasn't incredibly obvious," Arthur started, speaking reluctantly where he presumed John was standing, "I still can't see anything. I'm going to need your help navigating." John tapped his shoulder twice, and Arthur sighed.
"Thank you, my friend. I'm trying to think of the best way to do this. I... suppose I could just hold your hand, if you didn't mind that. My only concern would be if something happened and you needed both--" Arthur cut off as John put his hands on Arthur shoulders and turned him around. "What are you--ah!" John then grabbed Arthur under the arms and lifted him into the air.
Arthur flailed for a moment before he was lowered down so he straddled a warm, solid surface--presumably John's back. Arthur felt a strange and painful stab of nostalgia as he was reminded of doing something similar with Faroe, lifting her onto his shoulders so she could see over a crowd or just to give her a rest from walking.
"Er, I suppose that works," Arthur sputtered. John shifted hard enough that Arthur feared he would fall off his perch-- it felt like John had gone back down onto all fours. (Wait, did John even have four limbs)? Arthur tightened his legs and leaned forward to wrap his arms tightly around John's neck. He ended up pressing his face into what seemed to be another mass of soft tentacles; were they like hair at the back of John's head?
"John, careful, please. I'm afraid I don't feel very steady. If you move too suddenly, I might fall off." Which, now that Arthur thought of it, would be a very difficult thing to completely avoid in the Dreamlands. Arthur sat up and said, reluctantly, "If you have to run, I... suppose I'll just have to hold on as tight as I can."
John rumbled, considering, and then Arthur felt those soft tendrils moving near his hands. They wound their way up his arms, and Arthur realized John was holding on with makeshift reins. Before Arthur could open his mouth to praise him, more tentacles moved farther down John's back, nudging Arthur's thighs where they touched John's flank. Arthur was confused until they wrapped around his legs as well, then pulled them tightly against John's sides.
Arthur tugged experimentally, and his breath caught in his throat as the tendrils barely shifted at all. It seemed that Arthur being able to move even that much wasn't up to standards, and they tightened until his legs were completely immobile. John rumbled a pleased sound, obviously proud of his solution, and Arthur tried to ignore the dryness of his throat.
"Do you even know where you're going?" Arthur asked rather than think about the implications of that . John's answering growl sounded suspiciously like 'fuck off.' Arthur huffed a laugh and allowed himself to slump and rest his cheek against John's neck. He was tired and sore and weak with relief; he could let John handle things for the next little bit. Arthur may not be able to see where they were heading, but, presumably, they had miles to go.