#yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay finally writing this thing that's been bouncing in my head

[sychosid]

I've prayed enough, I rolled the dice

"Hangman" Adam Page/Swerve Strickland

[Ao3 link]

Swerve Strickland's forgotten, until he's reminded, and now he has to follow the chain into the unknown, way out there.

(Lord Huron inspired AU)

Ancient Names, Pt. I.

It was by a roadside stop.

A young woman, with ochre tinted skin and green eyes sat there, at a table just outside the entrance to the brown brick building. She had jet black hair, a thick curtain of bangs covering her forehead. Her clothes were unremarkable: a purple and red hoodie, ripped black jeans, and black converse shoes. More notably were her various black piercings and tattoos. Industrials, conch, multiple lobe piercings. A septum piercing, a labret piercing, snake bites, and an eyebrow piercing on her right eyebrow. All black, either small hoops or simple studs. Around her wrist, just barely peeking out from her hoodie sleeve was a tattoo of barbed wire that seemed to go up her arm.

By all means, nothing was flashy about her to Swerve. Some girl into alt culture.

Her feet tapped along to an unknown beat, as she shuffled cards and aimlessly laid them down on a taffeta tablecloth. The cloth was red, embroidered in a rainbow of different celestial shapes. Stars, moons, ringed planets, suns. There was a clear handmade quality to the embroidery job. She would pick up the cards, roll some dice, lay cards down, and pick them up after looking them over. Her face changed from apathetic, to amused, to something adjacent to excited. Intrigued, even?

Swerve had been watching her for a while from his seat in his car. Ditching the sports car at home, he rented an SUV with some reasonable mileage. It still was a nice car, a deep red and only a year or so old.

He had been traveling alone. Leather jacket, fur lined around the neck covered his torso. He wore a hoodie, black, under the jacket, and tight fitting jeans with basketball shoes. His own scheme was reds and blacks. It amused him, the overlapping color scheme between himself and the young woman. The smirk on his face wouldn't exactly go away. Something was tempting him to humor the young lady. He had been observing as people walked by her, either ignoring her like she didn't exist, or whispering to each other and avoiding her like she was toxic to the touch.

There was a plastic fold out chair across from her, tucked into the table. In the twenty or so minutes he observed, not a single person sat down.

It wasn't a surprise. Normally these booths were set up to sell things like honey or local fruits. It wasn’t like there were any prices or things like that written down. Just…this young lady dealing cards and rolling dice to herself. 

Eventually, she stood up and went inside the rest stop building. That was when Swerve made his move. He exited his car, and walked to the folding table. Curiously, he looked over the set up, before pulling the plastic chair out and sitting down in it. There was a slight creak, the hard plastic bending a little under him. He leaned back, taking a photo of the table in front of him.

“That'll be five dollars.” The girl was next to him, silent like a stalking cat, holding a cup of something. Hershey's Ice Cream, with a straw in it. A milkshake.

Swerve hadn't even heard her come out but he didn't jump when she spoke. Still, a chill ran down his spine that he ignored, before looking up at the girl. He could better see her makeup too. Red around her eyes, thin black eyeliner, and black lipstick.

There was something about her dark green eyes; the amused smile on her face. It left another chill down his spine. This girl was cold.

“I’m kidding. I do everything for free. Sort of. I don’t take cash.” She moved around the table, sitting down across from the dark haired man. “I’m Caroline Cain.”

“Swerve. Strickland.” He introduces himself, leaning back in the plastic chair. He keeps up the unphased demeanor, despite the skin crawling sensation that wouldn’t get away.

Caroline hummed in response. “You’re looking for something, aren’t you?”

“Looking for something? Little lady, I'm not looking for anything.” Swerve knew he was lying, to her, and to himself.

“You’re searching. Wandering. Aimless. You forgot, and you need to remember.”

“Listen–”

“YOU listen.” Caroline snaps, squinting her eyes. She has the cards in hand, shuffling them and putting them down before grabbing the handful of dice. She holds them out, right in front of his mouth. “Blow.”

He follows the command as if compelled by her words.

She rolls the dice, the sound against the taffeta soft.

And then again,

And again.

Swerve looks over at the dice. A skull, a six, a four, and two twos.

“You’re looking for the Dead Eye. Your luck has been set back. You don’t even realize it. There’s much in your life you don’t even know you’re missing, you’re not seeing.”

Swerve stared down at the dice. At the skull.

“It counts as one. You’re real lonesome. A lone cowboy, hm?”

“I’m not the cowboy.” The response was automatic, Swerve snapping his head up. Caroline looked…smug? Curious? Her face was unreadable to him. It unsettled him.

“Mmm…no you’re not.” She nodded, putting the dice aside and grabbing the deck of cards. They were playing cards, simple enough. 

The joker. And two twos. Three cards. 

The joker, a dancing skeleton. One of the two cards was a skull, and the other was two moons. He’d never seen cards with suits like this. 

“You’re looking for him. The joker, and you’re walking parallel paths. He and you, you’re undergoing a great change. You both have to follow your intuition. The ■■■■■ is broken, but you can fix it. Follow the ■■■■ ■■■■■. You need to–”

“That’s it. Whatever bullshit scam this is, it’s over.”

“Scam?” Caroline hummed, looking to the side. “If you say so.”

He pulls out his wallet, taking out a twenty dollar bill and throwing it on the table before walking away. She waves a little, smiling.

Swerve doesn’t look back.

The sky had been clear, but there was thick cloud coverage moving in from the southeast. It was dark, gray clouds. A storm was rolling in while Swerve got in his rental car. He drove away, turning his headlights on as he exited the parking lot. Something was harrowing about that interaction.

There was a chill in his bones as he drove into the storm, his head drowning in thoughts, flashes, memories that he couldn’t remember.

Hail hit his car, small pellets, 

before driving into rain, 

into snow. 

The roads were winding,

up and down,

unfamiliar to Swerve.

His car drove into the mist, descending into the valley of a hill. 

He was driving for hours. 

He was driving for minutes. 

Through decades, through eons, through nothing, through everything. 

His younger self, somewhere on the streets of Seattle. His veins, filled with void. He didn’t know, but he did. He wanted to be somewhere, he had to be.

Where did he have to be?

A familiar face, familiar dirty blonde hair, blood spilling out. Choking on it. Gurgling up, uncanny taste of metal as he can’t breathe anymore, his neck is chained, he can’t breathe–

Swerve sits up with a start, in a motel room. Cold sweat drips down his forehead, the hum of the radiator and his own breathing filling the room. A car passes by, headlights briefly illuminating the room. There’s the shadow of a man, tall and broad. His hair is to his shoulders, and that’s all Swerve can tell. He’s familiar as much as he’s unfamiliar. 

At the edge of the bed, there it is. The chain from his dream. The chain that was wrapped around the shadow’s neck.

He reaches out, and it’s colder than ice, and it hurts, but he reaches out and holds it and brings it up, and sees it, sees the rust and the dried blood, flaking off, and something compels him, draws him in, and he brings his lips to the blood and it’s sweet and it’s warm and it’s like everything he’s needed and it’s like nothing he’s ever had.

He knows now, his soul does, that this was what he needed to find. What Caroline had said. What she was saying. This chain was binding, and it had been broken, and now he had to follow it to way out there to find what he needed.

He had to follow the chain.

To him.