thehometree | [Amber]

[ Well, Pitch is being no help at all because he's largely staying in the darkest places he can find, especially while the sun is out. But after the sun goes down (and provided someone remembers to turn the Life Stream blue again) he can be found prowling around it.

For right now he's staying largely out of sight by slipping in and out of shadows in the shadiest of alcoves. ]

No.

[ The bag stays right where it is. Sorry Alla. He's kind of a jerk. ]

Those wings are not just for show you realize. You'll make far less noise if you use them.

Edited (html fail) 2015-09-02 15:52 (UTC)

[The nervous tension in Alla's chest begins to grow as he seems to be speaking to an invisible person.]

W-Well, it is the first time I have ever had wings. So, I am afraid I am not familiar with using them, yet.

[The youth considers conjuring his spots to 'feel' about the room for him. At least then, he'd have a better idea of where in the room he should turn his attention towards.]

If I may ask, whom is it I am speaking to? I am Alla dAubergine.

[He begins to step back, slowly, away from the light. If he could inch his way into a dark enough area, his spots could slip out from under his feet, unnoticed.]

[ Then step into my parlor said the spider to the fly. Anywhere that Pitch could find well away from the horrid sun or equally as terrible Life Stream was both safe haven and doorway for him. When he moved this time, he allowed his bright gold eyes, and sharp (if stained) teeth to show through the gloom. ]

You do not think of the complexity in walking, you just do it. The same principle applies.

[ But then Alla asks for a name. Of course it's just common courtesy, and really Pitch Black had become his name by now, but just the fact someone else was asking was enough to make Pitch narrow his eyes and sneer with obvious disdain. ]

You mortals and your need for names. What does it matter who I am? You will still be making noise, and I shall still be awaiting sunset.

[Alla's attention turned again, still trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.]

However, one still learns to walk, do they not?

[At least he assumes so. The idea does make him stop and question his own words. After all, even after transformation, he was always able to walk, despite having hooves in the other form.

Finally his eyes catch sight of those eyes and teeth. The young man stumbles over his feet a bit as he continues backwards. Dread pulls at him, telling him that he might be speaking with a demon or something similar.]

My apologies.

For making so much noise, that is.

[And yet he's still talking, but Alla can't quite help it. The whole "awaiting sunset" bit worries him as much as those teeth do.]

Why, if I may ask, are you waiting for sunset?

Edited 2015-09-03 11:52 (UTC)

[ Like the shuttering of a looking glass that dread was giving Pitch a sense of clarity as he also shamelessly consumed Alla's fear. ]

Because I hate that light. And I hate the yellow, saccharine light of the the Life Stream.

[ itch gave a Cheshire cat smile. ]

But I am not a demon. I don't suppose you can say the same, though.

Edited 2015-09-07 00:17 (UTC)

[As soon as he hears the word yellow, Alla mentally scrambles for a reference, as he cannot see that color. Then again, he isn't aware of the Life Stream one way or the other, so perhaps it won't matter. Just as he's to open his mouth to ask yet another question, Pitch speaks again.

His breath hitches at the accusation, eyes widening as the dread within him blooms into dismay. The young man isn't any good at hiding his emotions.]

D-demon?! I-I am clearly a human, not a demonic creature!

[A cold sweat breaks out across his throat and forehead as he panics, both inwardly and outwardly. How could this creature possibly know his secret? Could demons...or whatever Pitch was, see into the hearts of other demons, or even half-demons? What if he were to tell other people here about his true nature? He won't be able to hide, not in an unknown place such as this. Fear spikes in him, cold anxiety, dizzying. He takes a step back, unsure of what to do, save flee.]

[ My goodness. Alla has no control at all, and it's like a veritable fountain just burst to life before him. Pitch had been feeling strange, moody, even snapped easily at those poor souls that tried to get near him, but an offhand comment pushed all of that other nonsense aside.

Pitch came closer into view, though the hammered gold of his eyes glowed no less.]

Ah, but whatever shape you are on the outside hardly matters.

[ There's so much fear it's as though Alla is handing himself to Pitch on a silver platter. Making the dark shape strong enough to take on a solidity and a...collar? ]

I am not a demon, as I said, but you are the one showing me the way into your heart, Alla.

[ Now lets see what the surname is...]

[Time freezes as the other's words boom through Alla's mind. Terror thunders through his hearts and soul, leaving him breathless. Can this stranger read minds? There isn't any other way to describe what was happening. Except... What does the fellow mean, Alla is responsible for showing the way? Confusion ghosts his thoughts, casting a spell of dizziness upon him.]

H-How are you...?

[Then again, should this non-demon read minds, then he'll already know what is attempting to be asked. Alla tries to force all revealing thoughts from his head, but in return, they just flood his mind even more.]

Please. Please do not tell anyone.

[He can't afford to be alone. Not now, when this place is unknown to him and his lord is nowhere to be found. The last thing he needs is for everyone to hate him, attack him. His knees grow weak as he backpedals away from the dark, looming form of Pitch.]

I mean no harm.

[Yet he knows he can't help but cause harm. Feeding from fears to survive is harm, no matter what Duke Airen claims about his methods. At least he won't feed from this person, whoever or whatever they may be.]

Edited 2015-09-16 02:41 (UTC)

[ Oh this was delicious. Alla's fears rode through the entire gamut of trying to push them away, shove them to the back of your mind, to the sharp. crisp feeling of having someone plead not to tell secret.

There was a define solidity to Pitch, and a high collar Or ...kind of? it covered the back of his neck at any rate. ]

But you do harm any time you feed off of them. They will vilify you for it if they find out. I had already tipped my hand too soon, though. I will keep your little secret but you have to give me something for it~

What do you mean by "tipped your hand...?"

[The expression was lost on him. Yet, he did understand everything else. A heavy, almost cramping feeling pulled between his hearts, a sensation which he knew all to well. It indicated the beginning of a transformation. Alla barely registered the warning pangs as his thoughts swam in terror. He had to calm down, or escape. The possibility of his secret being kept from everyone was a relief, although a small one. It didn't stand against the new wave of anxiety when he realized he had nothing to give this man in return for keeping his secret.]

I-I do not have much...

Not right this moment, silly boy. Let's call it a debt. A favor. And when the time is appropriate, I'll tell you.

[ Which does cheer Pitch up considerably. Though if you think he'll let you run away and hide, your terribly mistaken. ]

Are you alright~?

[Sweat beads across Alla's forehead. He forces a nod, his jaw clenched against the gesture. Horror-adrenaline floods his bloodstream, numbing and sharpening his perceptions. Everything seems too real and not real enough. Even his posture falters as he hunches over in pain. Silently, over and over, he repeats his plea for the stranger to leave him alone, hoping it might be heard.]

N-No. I am-

[The young man chokes mid-word. He stumbles backward, as if a few more feet of distance might matter, somehow. Alla drops to his knees and clutches at his face. A darker pigment blooms across it. The soft tissue of his lips and around his eyes blacken and spread vertically, like spilled paint. The rest of his skin darkens to a smokey navy. He digs his fingernails in deep, as if to stop the bone-crunching pain, as it threatens to swell outward..]

No!

[ That fear tuning to panic is so sweet. Like the taste of honey or the finely honed edge of a razor; sweetness or release. ]

You are absolutely terrified.

[ Lids that had slipped half-open (how was one boy able to be wield this kind of magic?) slid the rest of the way closed as Alla dropped to his knees. This was fear on a whole other level. A power the likes of which Pitch Black had never encountered before. ]

Oh, whatever you are doing, don't stop on my account~

[ For a guy who's just spent centuries alone, there's no such thing as personal space, ether. Standing next to Alla (When did he move? It's a mystery.) with that same contented smile. ]

[As much as Alla wishes to stop this, he can't. Pitch's words fade and become muffled as Alla's ears shrivel and re-morph from his scalp, blossoming into fur-lined animal ears. Alla swims in pain. It swallows him up and overwhelms everything else. Even his panic and fears seem to halt.

The fellow's pink hair wilts into shadow as it grows, with unnatural speed, to a tangled mass around his body. A shock of pink remains at his widow's peak, a lone remnant that would remain of Alla's appearance. Bone ruptures his fingertips and reshapes itself into translucent claws. So much changes under his clothing, but aside from the bones in his legs popping and realigning, and a few shirt-seams ripping, it's difficult to catch all the details.

Alla gasps, eyes bulging, unblinking, as the worst of it begins. Terror, anxiety, and pain all spike in unison, bursting from his mind like the bones from his skin. His head croons to the floor, face scraping the grainy wood. His black blood dampens his freshly grown hair as horns uncoil from his head. A gargled cry escapes him. Everything begins to settle... everything except the young lad's panic, which spikes again as his consciousness returns. The world is real again...unfortunately.

He collapses, soaking his clothes in more fresh blood. When he tries to speak, his throat rebels, throwing strained and grainy undertones rather than words. His glass-like hooves, free of their sodden boots, scrape along the floor in panic as he scrambles to get away.]

Look what you have done...!

[Spite heats his words, twining with the fear that smoked from his very being. It's strong, potent, no longer solely his own, and it tastes of danger.]

[ Everything is soaked in fear. Sweet to the point of pain, or sharp enough to dull that sense. It's such a heady liquor that if there's anything beyond that, that surrounding feeling of hedonistic release, Pitch doesn't see it. He can't. It was like the old days and walking the eastern edge of a battlefield at sunset. But unlike the old days Pitch wasn't used to such a glut of fear. And certainly not from a single boy. ]

What I've done? I certainly didn't do that.

[ Grinning, Pitch is circling the transformed Alla lie a shark. ]

All I said was it didn't matter what shape you have on the outside..

[Blood smears the floor like a finger painting as Alla scrambles upright. It seems no matter where he tries to go or look, the stranger is there, right next to him.]

Y-You did not leave! Why... why did you stay?

[His voice wanes off into a whimper. A flush of blood heats and darkens his cheeks as embarrassment takes hold. He curtains his face with a snarl of translucent claws in an attempt to conceal his weakness. Nobody has yet seen him transform. No one, except his Lord, Duke Airen. And to make matters worse, Pitch's reaction isn't something Alla has ever prepared himself for... not that he's prepared much for this situation, anyway. But to say he hasn't lost sleep over 'what ifs' of people seeing him transform would be a lie.

Alla's two-tone ears flinch as his heated blood sparks his anger once more.]

What is it you want with me?!

Edited (Updating Icon... IGNORE MEEEEEEE) 2015-09-24 01:32 (UTC)

[ Pitch still had his wings (he always had them) but Alla had lost his when his body changed. The black wings beat one time in slow, deliberate thought. The cruel curve to Pitch's mouth stayed, though as he stopped circling. ]

You made the racket that called me. It is none of my doing that you are not quite human. However much you would like to blame me, be angry with me, there's nothing you can say or do that makes any of this my fault.

[ Bending close to almost whisper for Alla alone to hear. ]

What will you do when your secret isn't so secret anymore?

Y-You said you would not--!!

[A growl rumbles in the boy's throat, eyes slitting thin and glaring like daggers. His anger spikes higher than fear, for once. Shark-like teeth grit together. Small specks of shadows materialize around the horned young man, rapidly growing in numbers until they tower over Alla threefold. They twitch with agitation, ready to move yet held back like a caged animal banging at the bars.

The shadow darts towards Pitch like a swarm of locus. A tornado of darkness swarms the bogeyman. Alla has no means to torture the stranger, only to distract him long enough to escape, he hopes. His hooves sound off three or so times as he begins to run, only to have the wind pulled from his lungs. Knees scrape the floor as the young man's vision defocuses from the world around him.

His gaze trembles over his translucent claws. To him, they appear to be soaked in blood. Red blood. Blood belonging to someone innocent. He has done it again. Someone was hurt, possibly dead, because of him. They will search for him now. No matter what, can't run. Can't hide. Trapped. He was trapped.

The spots disperse, disappearing as they fall away. Something hollow and painful churns inside Alla. It allows the fear within to devour his anger, winning the turbulent war of emotions inside him while tears swell up to stream down his face.]

[ Yes he did. But the wording was very deiberate, and very hypothetical. Pitch actually had every intention of keeping his word (this was so delicous, after all) but he couldn't help pushing just a bit harder. Just to see if that sublime feeling happened again.

It seemed as though Alla had hit his limit, though. For as badly as he wanted to play at being human, he was certainly able to remember how to run with cloven hooves for feet. That combined with this odd locust swarm that was made of many smaller spots decided Pitch that Alla was some sort of fragment. A chysalis. Some part of a deity that was actively trying to stay hidden. But whether it was hiding in order to heal or grow in power, Pitch could not say.

Either way, he was still charmed that those spots were being used as attempted cover, and as they came at hm, the phantom of far too many legs and eyes met them like ocean beakers meet rock. Fear, true fear, comes howling up from the dark places to overtake those spots and actually devour some few before the rest can retreat to that red haze.

The fear is there though. The fear of the soldier, knowing he has to poke his head out of the foxhole and not wanting to. The fear of the mother, for her son who's gone off to war. The fear of the old man, mumbling to himself alone in his cell at the asylum. And the little girl's fear, of nightmares and the man in her closet. All this and thousands more. Millions. The fear of an entire world. ]

[Breathy sobs quickened as centuries of fear gushed into him, draining into his being like the depths of a whirlpool. He flailed about, trying to battle the dark swells. Alla wasn't prepared for anything like this: torn between horribly upset and dangerously hungry. His instinct and consciousness schismed, the former whispering a dark language, foreign to him now, almost.

A painful roar-like cry burst from Alla's throat, then the chimera's body slumped like an abandoned doll. He couldn't process what he was seeing, feeling, or sensing. All he wanted to do was run away and hide somewhere. Never before had his spots failed him. Then again, he hadn't the slightest idea what they truly were, except a part of himself, and that he needed them to survive.

How did this happen? A more important question kept repeating in his mind... one he could barely choke out.]

Why...?

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