Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Impulse,”

The man in the clearing gasps, his voice full of fear and a mix of something else.

“Impulse, listen—Pearl, she’s a woman, and she’s crazy.”

Impulse’s eyes dart around like he’s nothing more than prey being stalked to his death by a deadly predator.

Little does he know, he is.

Pearl’s breath billows through the cold, summit air as she watches from behind a dark, rough-barked tree.

Impulse’s trembling shoulders are grabbed by his soulmate.

“She’s crazy.”

He repeats through gritted teeth.

“She’s wicked, she’s vile, and hopefully,”

Bdub’s voice is sharp, and it comes out in desperate pants.

“She’s weak, without her dogs.”

Pearl feels rage beneath her skin, nestled deep in the center of her chest, armed by her ribcage like a bloodthirsty eagle held in a delicate birdcage.

Here I am,

She thinks, silent as she draws her rage into an arrow, slipping out from the shelter of the tree.

Wicked as Ever.

Tilly is at her side.

Her jaws foam with a mix of fearsome anticipation and the warm red blood of Pearl’s last attacker.

The scar over Tilly’s right eye matches Pearl’s so perfectly—and she realizes in that heartbeat how much they are tragic parallels, both beaten, both broken—and both about to give Karma itself a bloodstained, beautiful, run for its money.

And the wolf looks up, waiting for Pearl to command her.

Pearl smiles at her only friend; her loyal companion.

She only needs to give one word.

“Bdubs.”

The name slips off of Pearl’s cold, trembling lips, and Tilly’s ears snap back against her skull.

Her tail flutters up for silent balance and her eyes are wild.

Wild, so wild.

She barely makes any sound at all, actually—as her paws feather nimbly against the snow.

Just as soundlessly moves Pearl.

But she allows herself to make one last noise, and that’s the only grace she allows her enemies.

The whisper her voice drops to is merciful. If they ran away now, they may live to see the next sunrise.

See, Pearl had learned that the only way to be respected was to be feared.

Either as a female player, in the Game of Life, or because of her previous docile reputation, she wasn’t sure.

But with the glimmering red in her eyes, and the words she utters next…

She is now a work of terrifying, powerful, horrific art.

“Something Wicked This Way Comes,”

Says Pearl, as the corner of her lips lift into a slight grin.

The rush of Red adrenaline has taken over her body, and she can barely feel.

But what she can feel?

Oh, how it is glorious.

“Something Wicked This Way Comes.”

“Something Wicked This Way Comes.”

“Something Wicked This Way Comes.”

“Something Wicked This Way Comes.”

And Pearl lets her arrow fly.

It catches into Bdubs’ shoulder, ripping flesh and spilling out a trickle of blood.

Pearl smiles.

Her wolves smell the blood, and they rush after Impulse’s soulmate, howling ominous yet delightful battle cries.

Impulse exclaims; Bdubs shrieks; Pearl cackles.

Her tall red figure stands out amongst the monotonous grey war of fur and snow, the black, deadening forest keeping Pearl’s enemies trapped in an arena of their own guaranteed demise.

“How dare you! How dare you, ally with those who’ve killed my dogs!”

Pearl screeches, her words echoing through the sky of slowly dying dusk.

Bdubs whips around, trying to fire an arrow, but slipping, as one of Pearl’s wolves ram harshly into his side.

“I didn’t—I’ve never even touched one of your dogs!”

Bdubs assures, raising his hands.

Horrible, horrible idea, to lie and to plead.

Pleading didn’t work on Pearl.

Hm, well, not anymore.

And the wolves know he’s lying, so they rip off his begging hand, which was seeming to wave an invisible white flag.

How tainted, that white had become.

How tainted, had the forest become, as Bdubs’ wrist is torn apart, his blood-soaked, ripped flesh giving way to raw bone and muscle, as he calls for his soulmate whilst scrambling backwards.

Sadly, for Bdubs’ sake, Pearl’s wolves didn’t give up on their orders, and they rushed after him.

One with a loose two fingers dangling from her jaws, one with a pool of blood dripping from her mouth and neck.

These wolves were hungry.

And Pearl had done her best, to feed them, but at the end of the day…

When all you can afford is zombies’ flesh, perhaps human flesh is a… delightful replacement.

Pearl chases Bdubs to a tree, and backs him up against it.

He throws his sword up, blocking Pearl’s blow, but her axe’s handle combats his blade easily.

“No, please—Pearl, you’re crazy.”

Bdubs’ gaze hardens as he assures what he really does believe, his eyes gleaming as he glared at the woman.

Pearl leans in, all while her heart beats out of her chest, because who would ever want to be this close to a man again.

She whispers, a grin tugging at her lips once more, a delicate smirk lacing her words.

“You will die today.”

As Bdubs screams curses at her, Pearl raises her axe, and with one last grueling breath—

—She lets it fall.

The girl in the red cloak watches as her axe splits through Bdubs’ stomach, crashing into his ribcage with such force, it makes his wretched bones collapse just like an old fucking building falling in on itself.

Blood pours and clots and burns, splashing up into Pearl’s face.

Pearl spits harshly as she tastes the man’s blood on her lips; so disgustingly sweet, yet so beautifully bitter.

She can barely see, because of the crimson, she can barely hear, because of the cries, and she is more than left speechless, because of the sheer amount of satisfaction she feels from the crack of her enemies’ spines.

Impulse is dead now, too, and Pearl is so wonderfully doused in pungent, sticky red.

Pearl jerks her axe out of Bdubs’ corpse, and wipes her eyes with her shirt’s sleeve just in time to see his intestines squirming out of the gaping holes in his flesh.

Pearl grimaces.

Such a fucking sight.

Besides the organs slipping out of the man’s dead body, Pearl also manages to see his heart.

The blood red slowly fades to grey; and she knows, that in this game of Life, Bdubs has finally lost.

Pearl flips her axe back onto her shoulder, her cloak swaying in the rough wind as she gazed up at the top of the hill, catching a glimpse of a distant shadow.

“Ah, who’s next?”

She laughs, the loose skin on her lips ripping from the cold, dried blood that has seemed to fuse them together.

A zombie makes their way through the trees, one eyebrow raised.

Their face twists in shock as they eye Pearl’s enemies, both with lifeless, dead eyes and missing limbs and guts.

A few wolves have already taken to the corpses, which Pearl finds to be a bit sickening, yet it does have a satisfying feeling, underneath everything else.

“Are you… alright?”

Asks the zombie, a little fear escaping their usually tough and stuck-up tone.

“Hey, Cleo.”

Pearl greets, voice more than manic.

“Oh, I’m going great.”