Pitch Black ♞ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
isolophobia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thehometree2015-06-12 11:36 pm
isolophobia) wrote in thehometree2015-06-12 11:36 pm
Gone are the age of the innocent ones
| characters | Pitch Black and you?
| date/time | 6/11-? (please specify date in header)
| location | The purple-blue Lifestream
| rating | G? (TBE if needed)
| summary | Fear has pointedly stayed away from the Lifestream. Now he's right next to it. Houston, you have a problem.
Usually Pitch didn't make much use of the dark moth's wings he had been sporting since coming here. But they really were ideal for silent flight between the levels. Most people were staying well away from the changed Lifestream, but not Pitch. He was unbothered by that feeling of being upset, stressed even. It was more sorrow than he preferred, but there was fear to be had here. Old fear. Harder to find, though, which may account for his presence here.
It was small, but still. Better than that golden light that everyone gathered around and felt so calmed by. Better to dance in the dark like this. Light without light. alone in the dark.
| date/time | 6/11-? (please specify date in header)
| location | The purple-blue Lifestream
| rating | G? (TBE if needed)
| summary | Fear has pointedly stayed away from the Lifestream. Now he's right next to it. Houston, you have a problem.
Usually Pitch didn't make much use of the dark moth's wings he had been sporting since coming here. But they really were ideal for silent flight between the levels. Most people were staying well away from the changed Lifestream, but not Pitch. He was unbothered by that feeling of being upset, stressed even. It was more sorrow than he preferred, but there was fear to be had here. Old fear. Harder to find, though, which may account for his presence here.
It was small, but still. Better than that golden light that everyone gathered around and felt so calmed by. Better to dance in the dark like this. Light without light. alone in the dark.
no subject
"That's because I haven't. It is not some great secret who I am."
To Pitch, "playing dumb" was akin to thinking that he was somehow stupid enough not to catch onto the ploy. In the fairytale sense he might be something of a trickster but he was far from harmless. Fear can be a great motivator but that still entirely depended on the fear of the one watching. This could still prove to be interesting, so Pitch ends up looking amused.
"What have you decided to call me?"
no subject
“My roommate refers to you as Pitch.” Odd name – Pitch. He wonders what it refers to. The pitch of a sound, perhaps? The darkness doesn’t occur to him. In his culture, fear doesn’t have name. Oh, the country has abundant myths of evil creatures, certainly, and gods of death and destruction. But fear is not an entity in and of itself, merely a product of other things. So he has no title to give you.
“If that is your name, I suppose I’ll call you by it as well.” Pitch it is then.
no subject
Yes, the personification of fear is pouting. Pitch has had a few flings here and there with fear worship over the years, but what has really endured has been the folklore surrounding the Boogeyman; a frightening stranger that usually parents use to warn their children to go to bed on time, or he's the one blamed for nightmares that seem to come from nowhere.
But whatever other people have called him, and he's often simply answered to 'Pitch', none are actually names. They're descriptions, both of his appearance and the strange 'clothes' he wears. El Coco, Pitch Black, Jumbi, Babau, all are various languages, most concerning sacks, or swallowing up misbehaving children. But for all that Pitch has collected names from all over the worlds he knows, not a single one is really his. So why not something new, right?
It was still surprising when others asked what he wanted to be called. He was, after all, spoiled for choice.
"I suppose I should let you know that f you end up needing to get a message to me, just whisper it to the shadows under your bed, and they will find me."
no subject
“I did not realize the shadows were… capable of sending messages.” Then again, this person can apparently use magic of some sort. Perhaps it is he who gives the dark that power? Orcelito still doesn’t understand how magic works, whether it is the thing that’s enchanted or the person doing the enchanting or both.
“But I will do so, if you prefer that over the amber.” He’s not sure why he’d want to contact this strange fellow, but he won’t turn down the offer. This is an unpredictable place at times, and someday he may need to call on someone to help him find or protect Kit.
He gives a light smile. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for helping Kit. She’s told me you are helping her learn to write.” What an odd activity for you to engage in, but appreciated nonetheless. “She’s a fast learner, isn’t she? She’s able to write her name now. And since I’ve taught her phonics, I think she’ll be able to start reading basic sentences next month.” The fact that he’s proud of her is revealed in his tone. He watches Pitch for a reaction; the subject of Kit seems to be of special interest to him.
no subject
The mention of Kit makes said wings twitch irritably. Pitch couldn't have said why exactly it irritated him, but the simple fact that someone else knew he had a friend and this was the second time they had talked about it was enough to bother him. It was as if Orcelito were purposefully drawing attention to a connection that Pitch had come to decide was not a weakness, because the experience of having a friend was too new to be labeled as yet. Even if Kit lived to be 100 the experience was still new.
Pitch turned away entirely, seemed to be taking a leisurely stroll around the blue Lifestream.
"The fact that her education has been so lax thus far is none of my doing. She has a quick clever mind for the written word, and she did mention the possibility of paper, but making marks on wood is all the same, I suppose."
Kit is of special interest because she's never been afraid, nor have any of those little slips, those 'unhappy accidents' ever affected her.
no subject
Besides, Kit is his friend, and one he’s especially protective of. He needs to be sure of Pitch’s attitude towards her - intentions are everything.
“All the same, I know she appreciates it.” He folds his arms and shifts his weight to the side, a picture of ease that he does not feel.
He finds the sight of that tall, shadowy figure gliding around the blue light to be melancholic. Perhaps Pitch is familiar with these negative emotions – even comfortable with them. That topic of light and dark that Orcelito averted earlier makes him wonder… but no, he won’t pursue it.
Instead Orcelito does what he came to the fifth floor to do: pick up stray feathers. The colorful ones especially – House 12 is practically collecting them. Pitch may find the underneath of the beds getting quite crowded.
no subject
He also noticed the odd preoccupation with feathers.
"...I really do hope you're not gathering those to make a nest."
no subject
“I need these to make quills. To write with.” He then counts off the other uses. “They make excellent markers for sectioning off areas, as well as partition screens, house decorations and wreaths, and they can even be taken apart and used for thread.”
They’re also great for stuffing featherbeds. So yes, his bedroom is turning into a nest. And he’ll deny it, so don’t say a word.
Wait, he won’t give you a chance to! “I’m still looking for a writer for you. But it’s going slowly. There haven’t been many newcomers.” His brow furrows and he looks up at the blue Lifestream, his lips pressed tight. “In truth, there are more people vanishing than appearing.”
no subject
He looked up at the Life Stream with an unreadable expression, really. As long as there was one person that could see him, he was content to stay. That didn't mean he wasn't thinking of ideas that would allow him to stay permanently, but those were still not ready to be tried out yet.
Seeming to mull things over, Pitch turned to Orcelito.
"what of you?"
no subject
“I suppose… I miss those who have left. But if they have indeed returned to their own worlds as Fuu and Owain surmise, then I am glad for them.” He hides his expression behind the fan of feathers. “Though I would like to know why they left. It is strange that some of us stay and others depart.”
He regards Pitch with sudden interest. “What about you? You must come from an… interesting place.” To put it mildly. Are all people from your world tall and shadowy? What a place that must be! “Do you want to return?”
no subject
Ever. Though that is implied with the flat scowl and demeanor going from amusement to annoyance in an instant. Pitch pretty much hated being largely invisible. Not being believed in meant fading away bit by piece until one day, there's no one left to believe at all.
This Night Gem that Pitch always had in contact with his skin meant that he had moth wings, but it also meant he was visible along with those visible moth wings. Still, Pitch waves away any discussion of who stays, and who goes in one gesture.
"But I am speaking of you. It is possible for you to write, and to read. What is stopping The exercise of your imagination?"
no subject
“Myself? Write stories?” Orcelito looks genuinely surprised at the thought. “Oh, I haven’t… I mean, I don’t have the talent or training for it.” Well, that’s not exactly true, but… “Anyway, writing stories for Kit does not make me a storyteller. I just… write down tales I’ve heard elsewhere.”
no subject
Hey, if going home is never brought up again, that's fine by Pitch. But onto the business at hand.
"Memories of fearful stories and their authors would do. Surely you do not think that every troubadour only recited original works before the invention of the printed word, do you?"
no subject
“When you said you were looking for a storyteller, I assumed you wanted original works. Otherwise, you could ask those here to recite their childhood scare tales.” He says calmly, as though they are talking of something as simple as nursery rhymes (and isn’t that where it all starts?). “Is there a reason you want the written word in particular?”
“And you should know I… personally don’t have any fondness for horror tales.” Orcelito lives enough frightening things; he doesn’t want them in his books too.
no subject
"Surely you must know that the written word has power."
Whether or not Orcelito did know, or started to say anything, Pitch goes right on.
"It's that power I want, but those that recite are rarely still frightened of childhood scare-tales. That which is written endures."
Of course, Orcelito's past, before the tree, has been a mystery (because as long as he remained harmless and looked after Kit, Pitch didn't much care) buy he could recognize the tang of fear in the professed dislike of horror.
"A lot of the best horror authors write about things that scare them, but more authors in general do not care for it."
What? Did you think he didn't know already?
no subject
And he does not wish to share his fears, in any form. But enough of that; he’s more curious about the why of this conversation. One word catches his attention: power.
“May I ask what your particular interest in these stories is?” It may be nothing, of course. This man is allowed to like whatever literature he pleases, and far be it from Orcelito to deny him a passing fancy. But it may not be… Orcelito has known those who liked fear and horror, or rather, the power they gained from inflicting it on others. Those people were more frightening than their subject matter. While Orcelito appreciates a good piece of literature or well-written verse, he cannot condone taking delight from the suffering of others. He doesn’t think Pitch is the sort to torment others for entertainment and control… but he can't be certain.