Work Text:
Location: Unknown
"Pardon my language, but what the fuck." Welsknight stared at the person? being? in front of him.
He just randomly woke up here, having no clue where he was. Once he woke up, he looked around, just to get a feel of the situation. Luckily it didn't seem like he was in the backrooms? Or at least it didn't look like the backrooms people normally talk about... which isn’t the best evidence to it not if he was to be honest. Basically no one who talks about them had actually been, since the majority of the people who ended up in the backrooms wound up dead.
Ignoring the possibility he might’ve no-clipped into the backrooms, he had walked down to where he heard the clanging of pans. Was going towards the sounds a bad idea? Maybe, but honestly he was past the point of caring.
That got him to where he is now. Staring at a chef being who was letting out an evil laugh? In a French accent? Wels was more confused than anything, if he was being honest. Why does this always happen to him?
(Did it? Maybe not as much as some of the other Hermits, but he digressed.)
“Ah, voici!” the chef exclaimed. “The knight has made his way to the table!” They cackled deeply. “Je suis very pleased! Now the cooking can truly commence!”
Wels stared blankly, utterly confused. The pans had been clanging for a while; hadn’t this person made something already?
The chef seemed to sense his confusion. “Ah, you are confused! I must demonstrate. Voici mon incredible cooking skills!” They lifted the pans in a flourish, as if to ready the tool for cooking. There was an uncomfortably long pause as the chef stretched out the motion for a longer length than strictly necessary, and Wels tilted his head as he tried to figure out what exactly he was about to witness. Quickly, in what then seemed like a sudden turn of events, the pan was lifted high and slammed directly into Wels' head, ricocheting loudly within the room. Wels silently cursed before all went black and he fell like a sack of potatoes.
Location: Level 1
When Wels came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was laying on hard and cold surface. He also heard a repetitive sound. The knight thought it sounded like a foot tapping but he couldn’t be sure. Slowly, he used his hand to move into a sitting position before opening his eyes and standing up.
Looking around, Wels took in the new room, well room was used loosely it was more a hallway, before turning to thank his savior, only to freeze. His savior blinked blankly before realizing the reason for the look, proceeding to turn his head away and crossing his arms.
“Why… why did you save me?” Wels questioned his opposite. “I thought you wanted me dead?”
Hels scoffed. “I do, but I want to be the one to kill you, not an evil wannabe.”
“…Sure,” drawled Wels unconvinced, but he didn’t push. While it did appear that their weapons were taken, he knew how stab-happy the nether knight was, and right now it was better to err on the side of caution. “How did you even find me?”
“Your screams are very distinct.”
Wels spluttered, to which Hels smirked. The action made something suddenly apparent to the knight. Neither of them had their armor, rather just in the leggings and tunic worn underneath. How he hadn’t noticed that yet he had no clue, guess he was so used to the sound of clanking metal to the point he didn’t register it missing. “Where even are we?”
“Poor little knight couldn’t figure it out?” Hels taunted.
The light knight rolled his eyes. “I have a guess, but I figured you might have a better idea. Since, you know, I was immediately accosted by an evil French chef.”
“You’re the one who walked towards the chef instead of turning the other way.”
“You weren’t even there!”
“No but you just confirmed it.” Wels let out a frustrated scream, throwing his arms up. Ignoring it, Hels continued. “You no-clipped us into the Backrooms.”
“Me?! Why couldn’t it have been you!” The stress and exhaustion of the situation was weighing on Wels, resulting in the man’s normally calm façade breaking.
Hels didn’t respond. Wels sighed, frustrated, not that he expected a response in the first place. “Know what, standing here arguing will get us nowhere. We should find a safe place to rest, or at least somewhere safer than here.”
His counterpart huffed. “Hey, you actually have a good idea… for once.”
Wels glared, but didn’t dignify that with a response, instead just storming forward.
The two walked in silence for a bit, hoping to at the very least find resources and a place to rest.
If asked, Wels didn’t think he would be able to say how long or far the two of them walked. Everywhere they walked looked the same, dimly lit with concrete floors, only the occasional painting oddly enough to break it up. They did manage to find a handful of rooms, but none that would be suitable for two people to sleep in. Wels did suggest splitting up for the night, but Hels responded that it was safer for them to stick together.
After even more walking, they managed to finally find a suitable room. Well, suitable was used loosely, but it was better than any of the previous ones, and both of the knights were too tired to try and find a better room. So, the one they found would have to do.
Silently, Wels went to a corner of the room farther from the door but where he could see everything. Hels meanwhile stayed near the door.
Next thing Wels knew there were two cans coming at his head. Dodging, he proceeded to read the labels. One just said ‘Almond Water’ while the other was more faded but appeared to be canned corn. Looking up, Wels could see that his counterpart was getting his own two cans out of bag Wels didn’t even notice he had.
Suspiciously, he glanced at Hels.
Hels just rolled his eyes. “They’re not poisoned idiot. I found them when you were unconscious and haven’t touched them since. Of course you don’t have to eat them, but who knows when we will next find anything?”
Wels hated to admit it, but the nether knight had a point. So he opened the cans and started eating. The nutty taste of the almond water took a bit to get used to, but he did feel much better after drinking it.
After finishing their meals, the two of them settled down to sleep, albeit reluctantly (especially for Wels). Wels did not trust his clone at all and so was not in favor of sleeping with the nether knight in the room. Unfortunately, Hels had a point in that they don’t know when they next would be somewhere safe enough to sleep. And they needed the energy to hopefully find more supplies. So, Wels closed his eyes and slowly drifted off.
Wels woke up slowly, just laying there for a bit, before suddenly he remembered where he was and what happened the day before.
Jolting up, the first thing he saw was Hels messing with a knife. Where Hels got the knife, Wels did not know, but he was quickly on guard at the sight of it. He went to ask, but he was groggy enough that the question didn’t come out.
Hels just scoffed, sticking the blade into a pocket. “About time you woke up. We can finally get going.” With that he turned and started down the corridor with all their supplies, leaving Wels to scramble after him in order to not be left behind.
The two just started walking down the corridor, in silence with thick enough tension you could cut it with a knife. After an hour or so Hels started to hum under his breath, which Wels tried his best to tune out. No more than 20 minutes after that, at least as far as he could estimate, they finally stumbled on something different. A set of glass doors. Tense, Wels looks at his counterpart, who just shrugged, way more nonchalant about this whole situation. Taking a deep breath, the light knight pushed open the door and stepped through.
He immediately stopped after entering, causing Hels, who was a step behind him, to crash into his back.
Wels already regretted his decision to go through that set of doors.