[Amber]

[petiteaubergine]

[The amber glows upon the face of a frustrated young man. It's turned a few degrees, then a hand slips up and messes with with tangled strands of hair. His face shifts from side to side, eyes following the outline of his face. He's fascinated with the odd little mirror. Comfortable with the outcome of his quick-fix effort, he looks up towards the hole in the ceiling.]

Now, I will surely get up there this time!

[Alla spreads his midnight-blue wings and wobbles into the air. The room around him tilts, then shrinks as he ascends. The scrunched-up lines in his face soften into a smile. He's done it!

Then, without warning, he slips from view, crashing back down onto the floor with a yelp of surprise followed by a moan.]

Oh dear... this was my best garment. Oh no...

Comments

[petiteaubergine]

[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?!

NEVER

[isolophobia]

[ 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?

[petiteaubergine]

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.]

[isolophobia]

[ 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. ]

[petiteaubergine]

[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...?