Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was fairly cool for July, all things considered. Very slightly cloudy, and with a gentle breeze that rippled across the lake from time to time. Summer wasn’t really Shieldy’s favourite season, not usually. One of the more annoying side effects of being metal, he tended to just soak up the heat and sunlight, overheating a bit quicker than most of his friends did. He had the same issue with winter: he’d get freezing to the touch, cold enough that just a short brush could sting your fingers if he stayed out too long. 

The mellow morning weather was a relief, then, as he waited for his friends beside the lake. They’d been planning this trip for about a week now: a day spent out in town, at theaters, arcades, and anywhere else they could mess around and, more than likely, cause trouble. They wouldn’t be leaving for another few hours, at least, but he’d woken up early, and the thought of laying around in bed just didn’t sit right with him. He was restless, more than likely from excitement, he guessed, and despite his best efforts to go back to sleep he just had to do something before he completely lost his mind. So now he was here, one relatively short walk later, doodling anything he could think of in the sand as the water lapped at the shore, just below his toes. Friends, mostly: Big Orange Chicken, Shelly, a few Party Hats. A few plants worked their way in as well, mostly little trees and bushes that dotted the environment around him. He was about halfway through a drawing of himself when he paused, studying the uneven points. 

Hmm

He scribbled them out and tried again. 

And again.

And again, and when the spacing still looked off he grumbled and leaned out over the lake for a reference. 

The water was clear, visible right down to its shadow-laced floor. Bright sunlight rippled across the surface, brushed along by the wind, reflecting back into his eyes after a moment and nearly blinding him. 

Shieldy blinked, rubbed at his eyes a bit, and looked back despite the sunspots currently speckling his vision. A few seconds later, his reflection blinked back. 

He flinched away, eyes wide. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

Just the sunlight, he thought, shaking his head clear, it must’ve messed with my eyes.

But despite letting his vision fully clear, the unease remained. 

He hadn’t even noticed at first, but his hands had brushed over his drawing when he’d pulled back. A great arc passed through his little face, obscuring it completely, dissolving the points at the top of his head into nothing but tiny grains of sand once again. He regarded this, frowning slightly. He would’ve tried to fix it were it not for the strange stillness that overcame his hands. Like they’d been weighed down or drained of all their energy they stayed pressed in the sand, burrowing deeper and deeper holes the more he tried to move them. But they remained, fingers only twitching as to dig deeper. Only when they’d dug past the water level could he collect himself enough to pull them away. 

The small pits flooded, soddening the already soaked sand further. In the tiny puddle that formed he could only just catch the blue of his face shining back. He sighed. Maybe he should’ve tried harder to go back to bed. Or at the very least stayed in the house. 

Instead he shifted until he could just see his left eye in the little mirror, staring up at him. It followed his own, blinking when he did. A perfect mirror image. He looked left, so did it. When he looked away it no longer saw him. He watched it, it watched him.

It watched him.

It watched him.

Something was watching him.

Near frantically he searched for his friends’ faces among the trees. The air fell dead. A wide silence settled in its place he was desperate to break.

    “Guys, come on! Quit messing with me!”

Nobody replied. No one broke through the tree line to greet him, not a friend or a stranger or even a bird or squirrel. His throat felt tight, and the unease turned into a steady chill the spread to the base of his spine. He was alone. All by himself, sitting on the lakeshore, but he knew something was watching him. He could feel it. 

Looking back out across the water, he got some kind of answer. Not in words, nor sounds, but something like an instinct, a calling, a knowledge. A bone-deep sensation, the same that’d forced his arms still, flooded him. The water, lapping ever so gently, filled his ears. Knowing where to look, he leaned out over the lake, staring at its reflection, broken up only slightly now by the sun.

Staring back was someone taller than himself, somewhat thinner too. Pale yellow, nearly off-white really, with three flat points at the top of his head that, in Shieldy’s mind, resembled a crown. Their eyes were wide, almost curious, almost frightened, completely devoid of shine. They mimicked his pose exactly, taking the place of his own absent reflection. They distorted as the water moved.

“Wha-”

They spoke in sync, and while his own voice was clear, theirs seemed muffled, like it came up from the depths in bubbles. They startled a bit at the sound seemingly, eyes widening and trying to look at their mouth. He moved slightly closer, watching with a tense fascination as they did the same. He lifted his left arm, dropped it, and again they mimicked him.

“Woah”

Was someone under the water? Shieldy didn’t know how they’d keep from breaking the surface, nor how they seemed almost flat, unaffected by the lighting. He furrowed his brows, looking them over in full once again. 

Something seemed almost familiar about the stranger. Pale yellow, dull eyes, three points.

He reached out across the surface.

“What are you?”

The water was freezing . It felt less like water and more like ice, like dry ice. He thought his hand would turn to ice right then and there, but for several moments held steady. It wasn’t really the water he was touching, he realized, so much as it was another hand. Their hand. It was just slightly smaller than his own, feeling distinctly unlike skin. His thumb twitched against theirs. 

He pulled away. They followed. 

The water rose up, up, up against his palm. A small wave, growing bigger. The reflection distorted until it was incomprehensible at which point they severed. He fell back, overcome by a great thrill of freezing that paralyzed him. His hands and feet went numb from the sudden cold, he couldn’t even shiver. There was water in his lungs, in his throat, he felt, and for several long seconds he couldn’t even breathe. And still the water rose higher, until it crossed over the sun and scattered its light in thin beams in all directions. It roared, churning madly, and inbetween sunlight and stirred water he caught flashes of yellow, hands straining for the surface and the sand, desperate to be free. Like some awful lady of the lake. Like a monster. Like a ghost. 

His heart raced faster.

It pitched forward slightly, palms against a watery film, overshadowing him completely. Wide eyes met his own. Several droplets pittered against him, shocking him. He breathed out, a short gasp, watching his breath puff into a pale cloud that filled the space between them and, like it’d broken a spell, the wave severed from the lake at its center. The lower half returned with a great splash that rushed the shore, climbing past his wrists before retreating. What remained in the air was blown back as he regained his breath, each one forming a fog. They regained form, starting with their head and moving down, freezing stiff inch by inch as they took shape. Their base was jagged as it formed, sharp and broken off in uneven points, like shattered bits of glass. What water dripped from them froze in place, midway through their fall. bits of ice lined their lower eyelids.

The water steadied, and the horrible cold left him, putting his muscles back into his control. He sat up, slightly shaky. They both spent several moments watching each other.

     “What do you think that chess guy does when we’re not around?” Slurpy asked. The lot of them were crowded around three tables, all pushed together in a small pizza shop downtown. They’d spent the past several hours floating in and out of every shop on the strip before pausing for a quick dinner. Outside streetlamps and store signs stuck out against the dark sky.  Sheildy watched her bite into her slice, mushrooms and extra peppers, curious.

     “I don’t know,” Boaty swirled her soda. “Isn’t that whole place just a dream anyway? He probably doesn’t even exist anymore.”

Slurpy chewed, humming. Party Hat spoke around his own slice.

    “‘Chess guy?’”

    “Yeah, you know, yellow-y, kinda looked like he had a crown on or something? The chess guy.”

He blinked up at her.

    “Who?”

    “He wasn’t eliminated until the finale,” Popsicle chimed, leaning across the table to steal another slice. 

    “Oh yeah, right. You wouldn’t know him them”

Boaty set down her cup.

    “Do you even remember his name?”

    “Course I do. It was...Chess?”

    “Mm—“ Popsicle swallowed—“No, it was, like, a specific piece I think.”

    “Pawn? Is that it?”

    “Nah…” Slurpy drummed her fingers against the table for a moment before perking up. He could practically see the lightbulb blinking over her head.

    “Oh!—”

He shifted, floating slightly lower as something clicked in Shieldy’s head.

    “Hi.”

It took a bit for the greeting to fully register in his head.

    “...Hello.”

Chapter Text

Shieldy was a bit different after that morning. Not by too much, but just enough that they noticed. 

There was this persistent cold about him, for one. Quite literally, for whatever reason, he tended to be a bit cooler to the touch, even on warm days. Sometimes it wasn’t of much note, but every once in a while it would spike in such a way that everyone around him would shiver. 

Then there was his reflection, which he seemed to linger on. It wasn’t for long, usually, but he’d watch it as though expecting it to spring to life and tell him something. He’d try to avoid the lake if he could, or any particularly large body of water for that matter. He asked what the elimination dream world was like, taking more of an active interest than he had before, and, for whatever reason, he became a bit closer with Scissors. Not by much, again, none of the changes were by much, but they seemed to find some sort of new common ground, enough so that he’d spend just a bit more time talking to her whenever the whole group of them spent the night out. 

Really, none of it was all that concerning, but they’d chatted amongst themselves about it from time to time, theorizing. 

Technically they’d already gotten an answer from the man himself, pulled from a late-night conversation he’d had with Party Hat just days after he started acting odd.

    “I met a ghost, down by the lake,” he’d said, “he’s been following me ever since.”

Almost none of them really believed him. 

Keyword: almost.

Scissors rolled her eyes, and Hot Dog grew equally quiet at the topic, almost nervous, but even they’d doubted him for a while, until he told them exactly whose ghost was apparently haunting him.

Shelly, though? She believed him from the start, completely and totally. 

She just wouldn’t admit it. 

She almost did, to be fair, and she knew deep down that she should, but their reports came back so different from her own—they couldn’t ever hear any ghosts, and his reflection in pots and puddles was only ever his own. But that afternoon, the very same day it all started, she caught it, shining off the silver of his back: a blur of off-yellow, and a face she’d never seen. Sometimes, from then on, she’d catch the sound of treading water if she lingered too near him, and dull, unfamiliar eyes would follow him in every reflective surface they could. On one occasion she even caught a voice, quiet and muffled, that she couldn’t place. 

She had every reason to think he was right, she knew he was. 

But she couldn’t really focus on that, not with the pounding in her head. 

She wasn’t really sure what they were talking about, she’d stopped paying attention several minutes ago, but Pizza and Shieldy were laughing wildly, and Party Hat was grinning like mad. Big Orange Chicken clucked somewhere to her left, out of sight, and Boaty looked like she was trying for all the world to not choke on her punch. Loud pop music screamed through the speakers, and all around her the many partygoers chatted, friends and strangers alike, straining their voices to be heard. LEDs, strung up all across the yard, blitzed through neon colours. Scents of sickly-sweet and greasy food drenched the air. Her stomach turned. She tried taking deep breaths to steady it, but it hardly helped.

Pizza and Hot Dog told them about the party they were throwing at least a week ago, if not longer. Figures she should get a headache now. 

    “Eh? Get it?” Party Hat nudged her. She startled, just slightly, zoning back in. His grin had softened a bit, still toothy but a little less wide. She smiled as best she could.

    “Oh,” she giggled a bit, fake-sounding, she was sure, “y-yea!”

A sharp pain stabbed at her left temple. She only just held back a wince, clenching her teeth tightly until it passed. She piped up just as they launched back into conversation, pushing away her cup.

“I think i’m gonna go take a walk.”

Boaty, mouth half-open before being cut-off, looked at her curiously. 

    “Do you want me to come with you?” 

She could hardly hear her voice, soft above the music, but even still it was too much.

    “No, that’s alright,” she replied, backing off as quickly as she could without seeming rude. Her smile faded by the second. “I won’t be long.”

A choir of affirmative voices followed her as she left, including a single “Shout if you need anything!” that rose above the rest. She didn’t bother looking back as she vanished down the small road, away from the party and the just slightly prying eyes of her friends.

Slowly, the noise faded to a distant murmur and the path became draped in soft shadows, broken up by the moon shining on overhead, just shy of full. She tried not to look at it straight on, the light aching just behind her eyes. The headache waned with time though, growing from a mess of sudden, flickering sharp pains to a beaty thrum of ache throughout her skull. It wasn’t gone completely, no, but it was better. At the very least it didn’t make her feel nauseous. 

Turning right, Shelly found herself staring down a wide-open space: sand and grass surrounding the edge of a great body of water, the opposing shore just a smudge in her view even as she approached. Stars, bright and twinkling in the late-night sky above, reflected on the water, rippling slightly, turning it to a scene ripped straight from a painting. 

She paused, still a few feet from the edge. The moon hung a bit off-center in the water, having already passed its peak. Not quite full and not quite a half, though it had been very much full a few nights prior. She’d drawn her blinds up tight that night and slept with her face buried into her blanket. The light pouring in through her window had just been too much. 

Now the waning moon stared her down, one eye in the water and one in the sky. She swallowed, shifting on her feet, trying not to watch it back but locked in by what small divets she could make out on its surface. Like an iris, she thought they resembled, and pupils. They followed her as she moved. The stars did too. Spotlights, floodlights, burning white into her retinas. 

All waiting for her to do something.

She stumbled back several paces, screwing her eyes shut against the blinding light. Her feet sank a bit into the sand. It was almost uncomfortably warm, like it was toasting under sunlight. Her headache returned at full force, centering now somewhere behind her eyes. Ignoring the awful sting she cracked them open, searching before darting for the treeline, desperate to get somewhere darker. Eventually she opened them fully, once the sand turned to dry leaves, and while the ache remained the same the stinging in her eyes subsided. Truth be told, she didn’t quite feel relieved. Rather, she kept glancing behind her, stomach twisting, searching the trees for anybody watching her. She could feel them staring her down, somewhere above her, but couldn’t pick a single face out through the shadows. She didn’t dare check the sky overhead, not a big fan of going near-blind. 

“Oh, come on, Shelly,” she said to herself, turning and staring at the ground, “don’t be silly.” 

Her cheeks warmed at the embarrassing idea.

“Everyone’s at the party! You’re all alone out here”

She pressed on through the woods, picking up the pace more and more as she rambled.

“It’s fine”

Her face flushed red. From exertion or flusteredness or the heat she didn’t care to know. It was awfully warm for a September night. 

“I’m all alone”

The running was doing no wonders for her headache. Quite the opposite.

“I—”  

She stumbled over an errant rock, and while she just managed to catch herself the sudden jostling brought her to a harsh stop. 

She was very nearly sick right then and there. She panted ragged, trying to hold it back. Shutting her eyes, she stood for several minutes, struggling to put herself back together. She felt like she was bursting at the seams. Her head pounded almost rhythmically, an awful crashing sensation. The wind swept the leaves, and the ensuing rustling resonated in her ears, crackling like a fire she was standing much too close to. Shelly tried to ignore the feeling of stagelights once more blistering against her back, alongside the voice that seemed to carry on the breeze, something almost like her own. She preferred to think she was just mumbling without realizing it. She couldn’t afford to figure out who else it could be.

Eventually, feeling her legs begin to shake, she stumbled to the nearest tree, leaning against it for support. Her forehead knocked against the bark. It felt strange against her, not quite rough as it should, not quite like wood. It almost seemed smooth. Her vision was blurry, as though straining through smoke. She wondered, for a moment, if the woods had started burning. It certainly felt like it.

Finally, she regained her breath, enough so that she could think. She glanced up, and realized with a start two distinct things:

1. She had no idea where she was, or how far she ran, or for how long. She was very much lost in the woods.
2. She could still hear a voice in the breeze. And, on second inspection, it absolutely wasn’t hers. She didn’t recognize it at all.

She tried to think of anyone it could belong to. Boaty, Slurpy, Pizza, Sheildy, each name she considered turned up negative. Whoever was out here with her was a total stranger.

She straightened up a bit, once she felt she had the strength, pulling a bit away from the tree. She swore they were whispering in her ear, watching her up-close.

“Who—”

Her head burst.

She hadn’t been expecting it. Not in the slightest. She cried out, sinking to the ground, legs completely out of her control. Her whole body was out of her control. The forest must’ve really started burning around her. She was burning with it, blazing, caught up in some awful fire that poured out of her forehead and down throughout the rest of her. It ate away at her, cracking up her head and letting smoke billow out the fractures and into the open air before her. Her ears rang loud enough to cover up the crackling of the flames, and for several dizzying moments her vision whited out completely, and she was seized with a terrible terror that very nearly choked her. Above it all was a pulse that slammed against her from the inside, pounding against every inch of her shell like something fighting to escape.

I’m gonna die she thought mutely.

I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m gonna die — 

Her vision cleared a bit, and she was able to see the smoke gather in a great cloud before her, curling somewhat at her sides. Something flickered from within, bright like a spark. Two somethings, in fact. Wide eyes. 

She whined at a mild pitch in the burning and fell back, staring blankly up at the sky. The cool dirt at her back made her gasp.

All at once the burning stopped, leaving her with the lingering heat, and the pulsing began to subside once more into a dull ache. She didn’t even blink until her eyes went dry. Her breath was more than shaky. The ringing in her ears fled, and beyond a very faint crackling the night fell still once more. It would be another minute until a voice piped up.

    “...Oh my.”

Slowly, hesitantly, a figure came into view. Slender, tan-ish, the same sparking eyes she’d picked out among the smoke, blinking owlishly down at her. 

“Are you alright?”

It took a moment for her to realize that she could nearly see through them.

She sat up suddenly, startled. They flinched back. The action disturbed their smoky form; their arm turned to thin curls before reforming at their side. They seemed to resemble a chess piece, though they lacked any legs or base, instead descending into whisps that swirled about in all directions, very nearly brushing the ground. There was a strange dullness to their eyes, one she’d only ever seen in the reflection against Sheildy’s back. 

Despite everything, she shivered. Her voice was just above a whisper.

    “You..you’re the ghost. Sheildy’s ghost.”

They blinked.

    “Who?”

It was a mild struggle, but she sat up a fraction straighter. 

    “Sheildy. You’re the one who’s been haunting him, aren’t you?”

They shook their head slowly, fixing her with an odd, confused look.

    “No, I’m afraid not. I don’t believe I know any shields.” they drew an inch closer, “Were you expecting them?”

Shelly hesitated a moment.

    “I...wasn’t expecting anyone.”

They were a bit sheepish at that.

    “Ah, well, I’m sorry to have changed that, then. Didn’t really have much choice.”

    “Didn’t...really…” she began to put two and two together. The result didn’t look too good, even in her still-dazed mind. It was her turn to go wide-eyed.

“Who are you?”

They smiled easily, extending a hand she couldn’t shake.

    “I’m Pawn." they said, "It’s a pleasure to meet you.”