May 24
( You can see this, he cannot. )
A funny thing it is, children's fears.
What goes bump in the night, tap tap taps on the window, is it the wind? Or something else?
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( You can see this, he cannot. )
A funny thing it is, children's fears.
What goes bump in the night, tap tap taps on the window, is it the wind? Or something else?
The boogeyman, lurking and smiling, his dark hands stretch from the dark dark shadows of their rooms.
Ghosts and ghouls, monsters and creeps.
The monster in the closet, peeking and creaking.
The monster under the bed, scratch scratch scratching, any weary feet, snatch snatch snatching.
Hide under the sheets, hide under the covers, out of the monsters' reach, so the children think.
Their shield against what lurks and crawls and creeps.
Safety, safety, or so it seems.
So wary, of the dark dark night.
So scary, what lurks and crawls and creeps.
The illusion of safety, in their sweet warm beds.
A poor little boy, oh how scared he is of the dark dark night.
What lurks in the corners, what waits in the hall.
Oh so late, he watches and waits.
For what watches him back, with a shiver and shake.
Those bad bad eyes, that bad bad face.
Oh the boy, he huddles and hides.
But he thinks he's clever, y'see, he's found the trick.
Hide under the sheets, hide under the covers, childhood wisdom keeps him out of the monsters' reach.
Under the blanket, cuddling his friend, oh he feels safe.
Despite the darkness, what lurks and crawls and creeps.
The poor boy, in his cleverness, he knows better.
But he has the illusion of safety, with his sweet friend in his warm bed.
Till he feels the tap tap tap, the scratch scratch scratch.
The creeping claws from the dark dark space, across that sweet warm bed, across poor little skin.
Those bad bad eyes, that bad bad face.
He may forget, in his poor poor heart, why children are so scared of what goes bump in the night.
And in his cleverness, he ends up good as dead.
There's nothing that can keep him safe.
From the monster under the bed.
The Funky Phantom Ep. 4 “Who’s Chicken”
( You can see this, he cannot. )
Exit Stage Left.
// TW for: unreality, mentions of suggestive themes
He chased after Jaxs as he marched into the livingroom, who shook his head in aggravation and flung an arm back at him, "This is how it's gonna be, after everything I do for you?! Everything I put up with?!"
Ducking infront of him, Lus scoffed, "Tch, that's rich comin' from you, we both fuckin' know you'd rather be with Miles right now." He glared up at Jaxs, sneering, "Yeah, 'after everything I do', sure."
The response he got was an irritated noise and an eyeroll, as Jaxs pushed around him to the other side of the room.
It had happened fast, but not really. One of them had said something, done something, and everything that had been boiling inside of him snapped—days of silence, weeks of tension and frustration, months of stress, all exploded.
And Jaxs had snapped back.
"Do you think it's just nothing?!" He turned around to face him, a look of confused indignation. "And with— I deserve time for myself, y'know. Contrary to what you think."
Yeah right. Lus huffed, "Yeah that's what it is, right?"
Jaxs was pacing, wearing around in circles and running a hand through his hair, and looked back at him, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, Lus. It's like my whole damn life revolves around you now! What's left for me?"
"Don't act like that's all it is—" He cut in, again trying to push in close to him, spitting out his words. "—with how much you abandon me. Say that but it seems like I'm not worth any of your damn time!"
Jaxs scoffed. "Is that really where you're gonna go?"
"Sure, if I'm so much of a fuckin' burden on you!" He got louder, right into Jaxs's face, and more than anger slipped into his voice.
Again, Jaxs pushed around him, glaring down at him, head tipped to the side. "Oh yeah? Do you need me to lay it out for you?" A hand on his hip, he leaned down and counted off with his fingers. "After how much I've given up for you, my time, my friends, my own space, everything I've done for you, cleaning, cooking, taking care of your pokemon, after how much shit I put up with—"
He made an irritated sigh. "I still do shit for you, I've still been there for you, I've still listened to you while you vent and when you rant about whoever's pissed you off that day." Jaxs stood up straighter, narrowing his eyes. "I've still cleaned up your mess. Even as you decided to aim that at me, when you've been cold and an outright piece of shit, I've still loved you and tried to pick up what you broke and try to fix things with your friends."
Jaxs's expression turned into a glare, and he dropped his tone. "My patience with this shit can only go so far."
For a second Lus couldn't do anything but stand there, scowling and clenching his teeth. Yeah sure, and the audacity to say he loved him, when they both knew it wasn't the same thing for him. All that self-righteous taurosshit, when— "So that's why you keep pickin' Miles, ain't it?" He practically growled his words, shoving his hands in his pockets and cocking his head.
With an irritated noise Jaxs rolled his eyes and threw his head back in exasperation. "Would you quit bringing them up? Are you really that pissed at not getting fucked or what?"
"It's not about the sex and you know it!" Lus snapped back quickly, and Jaxs shut his mouth, looking down at him with a scowl.
Taking a second to glare up at him, Lus got up close again, practically hissing. "I could give less of a shit about you fucking him, it's that every damn time I actually need you, you've run off with that random fucker 'cause you'd rather be with someone less 'tiring.'" He spat the last word, using air quotes around it.
It hung in the air between them for a moment, the silence stretching as Jaxs took another step away from him. He spoke quietly, but it was full of venom. "Maybe with someone like you, I need an out like that or I'd go insane."
Lus just had to stare.
And Jaxs stared back, both of them breathing heavily. The silence and the tension held between them. To have him just say it, not indirectly, just in the full words. Something stung.
An unease, an awful doubt, crept into his mind, with what he knew now. No dancing around it, no pretending anymore. His eyes slowly dropped to the floor, tensing and forcing his words out.
"Do you even really care about me? Or– or are you just runnin' off to someone that'll actually love you back? The way you do?" He grabbed his arms, holding them tight to his chest. "How much do I even fuckin' know about you?! When I really think about it— not a damn thing, not your family, not your history—" His voice broke a little, almost hysteric under the anger. "I don't even fuckin' know if there's real feeling there!"
Jaxs just looked taken aback, blinking before furrowing, almost like he didn't know what to say. After a second, he snapped back, "Are you so sure about that?! That I don't care about you?! Even after how long I've stuck with you, getting sidelined for your personal shit, and stayed like a fucking idiot—"
"YOU'RE NOT EVEN REAL!"
Lus cut him off with a shout, more of a scream, shaking from more than just anger. It had been almost a desperate thought, unable to keep it down.
Jaxs, was stunned.
He stared, wideeyed, all the anger gone from his face, just shock.
For a long moment they stood like that, Lus standing, panting, shaking, Jaxs hardly breathing.
Then Jaxs's brows furrowed, and his mouth pinched, and he stared down at Lus while slowly shaking his head.
Neither of them said a word.
Slowly, eventually, Jaxs turned away, and went to the door, briefly looked back at him, and left.
Leaving Lus to stand there, seething.
After long enough his grip tensed and he broke away with an angry shout, slamming his hands down on the arm of the couch.
And he stood there and wiped his face, heaving, remembering a time alot like this.
He'd done it again.
And now he was alone.
Jaxs was gone, and he was left to seethe in his pride.
( A frayed string, broken. )
( A connection, snapped. )
( The doll's tie, severed. )
To fall out of the spotlight, and exiting stage left.
oh you motherfucker stop dancing around it! what is it?! what's going on with him?! you clearly know!
// audio id: a short clip of echoing giggling laughter with howling wind and droning in the background.
( It simply laughed. )
( ... )
( The corruption. )
( It is the decay of an idea. )
( He is rotting from the inside out. )
( It spreads like a mold, marring, staining. )
( Burning, singing. )
( Rotting. )
( Decomposition of the living. )
( Flesh beyond recognition. )
( Back to the formless nothing from wence we all came. )
( It will spread until it reaches his lungs. )
( And then it will kill him. )
( Some time ago, Sunday, the fifth of July. )
( Somewhere else. )
( You can see this, he cannot. )
// TW for: unnerving imagery, transphobia
Heart still pounding in his ears, he kept on running, not paying attention to where, that didn't matter, until he couldn't anymore.
Chest heaving, he nearly collapsed against the nearest wall, trying desperately to catch his breath.
He stared wide-eyed at the floor while his heart raced, panic still ebbing in his body.
Fuck he was shaking, what was said playing over and over in his head, boiling in that fear and burning anger. He couldn't keep his hands still, his mind was a torrent until it all boiled over and in a single moment of emotion he slammed his fist into the wall with a shout, recoiling from the spike of pain.
Clenching his jaw, he buried his forehead in his palm and dropped his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut and sighing.
He muttered under his breath, "The little boy running away from.. hch." before cutting himself off with a scowl.
His limbs were still buzzing with frustration, indignation, the feeling in his chest building to rage. He kept his eyes shut, his hand squeezing into a fist. "That motherfucker. Who does he think he is?"
It wasn't fair.
It hurt.
Pushing off the wall with an aggravated sound, he threw his arms to the side and dug his heel into the floor, pacing back and forth while emotions churned. "He has never respected me, not a day in his damn life! Always just the bratty kid, never anythin' else!"
He didn't give a shit how loud he was being, his breath picking up. "No matter what I fuckin' do– it's. I'm just that selfish, whiny, childish bastard!"
Gripping his hands in his hair, he clenched his teeth. "Is that all I fuckin' am to him?!"
Even after everything they'd been through. It didn't matter, apparently. Throwing his arms out, he ranted loudly at the empty room. The indignation of it, a slight bit of fear, it burned inside him until it hurt.
"Just that whiny kid, just an asshole, never a man, never an equal. He thinks he's so fuckin' above me that he can just— treat me like I don't mean shit." His hands were shaking, and he balled them into fists.
"He- what, does he think he's my fuckin' dad?"
His throat choked up, a chill sent over him. Arc he hated that thought. It was— "Fuckin', terrifying." He shook his head with a half laugh, more nervous and indignant than anything. "He's already terrifying."
A drop.
His hairs standing on end.
Eyes on his back, he felt it.
And he stopped moving.
Of course it was here. Why wouldn't it be?
He didn't turn around, and stood there, waiting, for whatever it would do.
As it got closer, and closer.
He waited.
And waited.
He just heard its breathing, but nothing else.
After long enough, the emotion bubbling inside him, and fists shaking, he cracked.
With a broken, angry noise, he whirled around and threw his arms in frustration, staring at the space that wasn't empty. "Why?! Why does he do this?! It's not fair!"
Breathing heavily, he looked back and forth across what shouldn't be there, before scrunching his eyes shut and turning away with an aggravated groan.
He buried his hand in his hair. It wasn't. It wasn't fair.
"Who said it was ever fair?"
That awful whisper in its smiling, sing-songy voice echoed from the room, or inside his head.
Squeezing his eyes shut again, he run a hand across his face. He shouldn't respond to it, fuck knows he shouldn't.
But the anger and hurt inside him won out, and his voice cracked. "It's never been fair with him. Not since the day I met him."
He threw his hands out infront of him, that indignity gripping him again. "It's like I'm just- no matter what I'm just- this perpetual moody child in his brain! Just to judge and talk down to!" Arc it was infuriating and it hurt.
He just groaned.
And the jeering sent a chill up his spine.
"And you do so well at acting like it."
Instinctively he ducked his head, grimacing. The damn mockery. It bit at him, while that anger still burned.
Turning around, he gestured wildly with his hands. "He– he treats me like I'm some bratty middleschooler! When I'm nearly twenty fuckin' years old! For fuck's sake— he never sees that!"
It was perched just behind his shoulder, and he hated the feeling. And hated the sneer even more.
"Insisting you're so mature. Then what's this tantrum?"
He turned sharply to snap, "IT'S NOT A—", before biting his tongue to cut himself off. That would be a stupid mistake.
"Whatever!" Throwing his hands in the air he went back to pacing, the only outlet for the burning energy in his veins. His heart was pounding, breathing almost ragged.
By now he was almost shouting. "He thinks he knows fuckin' everything, don't he?! And every damn thing turns into a fuckin' lecture! Thinks he's all high and mighty!" He was still shaking, not just from the anger, but the memory of the screaming, cornered against the wall and berated— it was awful.
He saw it smiling.
"He thinks you're just useless, entitled, and weak."
"What a hypocrite."
He growled in frustration. Fucking hypocrite was right. "He says over and fuckin' over again how much he cares about me, but that's not fuckin' true. If he did, he wouldn'tve— It's just empty shit!"
Ranting into the empty air, it was almost more of a cry. He was pacing move aggressively, every movement more forceful, the anger fuming inside him. That fucker, that lying cunt. "He says SO MUCH SHIT! Just runnin' his arcdamn mouth! On and on, all entitled and concerned, and then he doesn't do jack or shit!"
He looked a bit to the side, and saw the dark and brightness swirling at the edges of the shadow—it hadn't moved from behind him, leaning down with its head twisted at an odd angle.
"He doesn't care. He's just an angry idiot spouting nonsense."
Scowling, he dropped his eyes to the floor, away from it. "But apparently I'm just a selfish brat."
"You're nothing but a burden to him. Just a whiny little irritation.
"He might lie, but you know it's true."
And he felt it, the pressure of its stare just over his shoulder, burning into his flesh. And everything Silas had said, screamed in his face—
He stomped into the room with heavy footsteps, his heart pounding, breathing ragged and burning, shaking. That fury in his heart, that hurt little bleeding wound, it stung like a bitch. "THAT MOTHERFUCKER!"
"Why does he think he gets to have all this fuckin' power?! Say all this fuckin' taurosshit?! Judge every choice I've ever made and throw it screamin' back in my face!?" He was screaming himself at this point, fuming and gesturing wildly.
"That fucker- he apparently thinks he's my fuckin' father but doesn't even have the smallest fuckin' bit of respect! He doesn't even treat me like a man—"
He was cut off by laughter.
Loud, horrible laughter.
Ringing in his ears, completely overwhelming the room.
His heart caught in his throat. And, he dared look behind him.
To see it practically doubled over, head thrown back in sheer hysteria. Like there was some fucked up joke he wasn't getting.
That thing's awful eyes looked down at him, piercing into his soul. It was grinning, with too-human teeth.
"Oh how ridiculous."
It moved, to be horribly, uncomfortably close. Contorted around him to bend its mouth, it hissed into his ear.
"Don't kid yourself."
"I thought you were supposed to be smart."
He felt it grin wider, uncomfortably so, and could hear its soft chuckling.
"A man? You're not a man."
An awful shiver went up his spine, he could hardly breathe, he couldn't move. As it whispered a few simple words, directly into his mind, his whole body seized, and his heart dropped.
"You're just a scared little girl."
And just like that, all the anger, all that fury, all the fight he had inside him.
Was snuffed out in a single moment.
He couldn't move, there was nothing in him too, he could only stare at the floor, his arms fallen to his sides.
While he felt it smile, in some sick satisfaction.
And it was gone.
And he was alone.
His breath quickened, and his eyes burned, and he couldn't help it, he couldn't control it, a sob tearing from his throat. Boys don't cry. He cried.
Crumbling to the ground, curling up on his knees, he buried himself in his hands, and just sobbed.
( Another string, snapped. )
( Two down, two remain. )
( For how much longer? )
Since someone wants to play dumb..
( You can see this, he cannot. )
// Co-written with @nanaboo-pumpkaboo
// TW for: unreality, references to the fourth wall, injury
Silas prowled around, looking for the boy who he scared off. One question repeating in his head over and over again.
'How could you have done that to him?'
He didn't know the campus area too well, he knew the stairs, how to get in and out. He knew which door to come in from, but Lus knew the area better than him.
'We could wait for him. He has to come back eventually.'
No, he needed to make this right now. He started exploring the general area, seeing if anyone was also exploring some sign of commotion.
'He trusted us. He trusted us and we exploded on him. What kind of man does that? We're pathetic, he didn't deserve that, he doesn't deserve ANY of this.'
Pain, Silas glanced at his fists, painfully aware how acclimated to pain they were.
'Why me. He deserves better than me. Why couldn't someone better have grown attached to Lus.'
While he was caught in his self-loathing, a voice called out from somewhere nearby.
"Ugh, go away!"
Silas jerked his head upwards, hearing the voice. He was going the right way. "Lus- Lus! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you that way, please."
He was at least talking at him. This was a good sign.
"Can't you just leave me alone?!"
His voice was coming from some place out of the way.
And footsteps, moving further away.
Silas picked up the pace, trying to follow the footsteps.
"I will, I will, I promise- I just- I need to know that you're okay first, I didn't…" Trailing off, he did mean everything he said, and that's why he felt so much like shit.
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
He continued following Lus' voice, he didn't wanna lose him.
"Bullshit! Haven't you done enough already?!"
The footsteps sped up, off the usual path.
He listened to the sound of the footsteps, and treked forth. If he sprinted he might be able to catch up easier, but who knows how Lus would react.
'Fucking Spirits above Kid. We just wanna help you.'
The sound led around a corner, through an open gate.
The voice sounded more emotional, breaking.
"Why'd you have to come back? Maybe it would'a been better if you hadn't."
That one hurt.
There were times when Silas wondered that himself.
But, he continued, moving to Lus, through the open gate.
"I- I know you're hurting, I know you don't mean that. Please. I'm sorry."
His voice went quiet as Silas got closer, and the footsteps ceased.
It was more imbittered when it spoke again, just as he rounded the corner behind the building.
"I hate you."
That hurt for him to hear, a pain filled through his chest.
"I know, it's okay."
But as he approached, where he expected to find Lus—
It was empty.
He looked around, confused, maybe Lus was hiding?
'Where is there to hide. We heard him come out here.'
There was movement, slow but noticeable, behind a piece of greenery near the equipment.
"Lus? Lus, is that you? Hey buddy I'm- I'm so sorry for what I said, you can hate me you can cuss me out whatever just…"
He trailed off, worried, waiting to see if he'd come out.
But as he got closer, could see it more clearly, through the foliage, a single dark eye stared back.
"Y-You."
The stare, I, bore into him, the glint of metal through the leaves, dark burning into his vision.
Before it was gone.
Though the pressure, of eyes on his back, did not fade.
Silas spun around, he didn't know the intentions of the hunter, or if it was just the hunter.
Maybe Lus was around, maybe he could still find Lus if he hurried.
"You led me the wrong way."
When he whipped around, however.
What he was met with, across the space, was a spot of pitch black in the light.
A silhouette. That was getting closer.
Heart pounding, both of them, Silas growled and put his fists up.
"Both of you." A rush of adrenaline through his system, he had no chance, he had a decent idea how outclassed he was.
Before he even blinked it was right in front of him, inches from his face, white hair draped over too-human eyes. Out of place, incongruent.
It hurt to look at, it wasn't clear what he was even seeing, while dark-bright splotches spread across his vision.
It grinned with too-sharp teeth.
"No way out."
Silas growled again, reeling his fist back.
'Don't look at it.'
That was the reasonable thing to do, it felt wrong, being right in front of it felt wrong. So, he swung without a second thought.
His fist swept through it like smoke, as if nothing was even there, only hitting empty air. Until suddenly feeling icy breath on the back of his neck. It was gone, it was behind him, it was laughing.
A high, melodic sound, almost like a cackling animal, from nowhere in particular, everywhere or inside his own head.
He didn't look to the fox, parts of him were afraid to, reeling another fist back.
'Eheh, these… gotta land eventually… right??'
Another futile swing, all it did was hurt Silas' own body as he near threw his arm out.
No matter what he did, it didn't connect, it was there one moment and gone the next, the weight of it always on his back, but always out of reach.
Back a step, step, step.
There was some feeling in the air, something twisted and off-kilter.
And all it did was laugh.
He panted, getting increasingly frustrated.
"Mother Fucker." He pulled back and swung again behind him.
A seering pain burned up his arm, he felt his hand splinter and bones pop as his fist connected with a surface harder than his own body.
He seethed, his hand felt warm, it felt bad, it felt good. He wanted that monster dead and there was a part of him that enjoyed getting to work all those frustrations out.
He clenched his fist, and glanced behind himself.
He had hit the brick.
While his eyes were diverted—
A sudden pressure on his neck, claws nails claws, digging in, pressing him against the wall, and the cold press of sharp metal on his throat threatening to pierce—
His eyes widened, he breathing picked up as he raised his head.
This could be the end, the last thing he ever did was bring Lus to tears.
Silas waited, heartbeat pumping in his ears.
"… Why, lure me here, for this?"
It dug in, and in, against his windpipe, until it pricked blood.
And then the pressure disappeared, and he was dropped to the ground with a hard thud.
When he looked, it was like it was never there, except for the bleeding.
The air was still thick.
Silas felt at his throat, pulling his hand away and looking at the blood on it.
"… What- why?" He was easy prey then and there. He recalled what he knew about the pair and how they tormented Lus.
"Part of your game?" He inquired, looking around for the beast again.
It was unnerving, he was deeply outmatched. Though he was angry, that meant very little to something he couldn't even lay a finger on. He was being toyed with, he thought, he looked further.
"You're both here. Why? Surely one of you saw I did a fine job screwing it up myself."
A chuckling laughter echoed in his ears.
"Oh, are you sorry?"
It was right there. It was huge.
The proportions didn't make sense, no matter how much he looked at it, like a tall stretched shadow. It looked out of place with the environment, the light not working right. It tipped its head.
"Is the little monster having regret?"
The pressure in the air was heavy, eyes burning into him from every angle, the second stare circling where he couldn't see, like a cat that had cornered a rat.
Nowhere to run.
His breath felt shaky, everything felt wrong with that thing standing in front of him.
He averted his gaze for a moment, then tried to focus back on the fox. He felt sick to his stomach.
"I am. I did wrong by him, that boy doesn't deserve either of us monsters."
Its ringing laughter was almost painful to listen to.
It was in front of him, it was over him, the shape didn't make sense.
"You're fascinating, you know."
"He was terrified, and you did it anyway."
It leaned down, bending in a way that would've looked painful, looking him in the eye with that sharp grin.
"Whine oh woe is me, but you know what you did."
'He needed to hear it, he'll look back on it one day and be thankful.' A part of him thought, looking at that unnerving beast in front of him. But there was still the pain of not knowing if Lus would get the chance to look back that overwhelmed Silas even now.
"I know full well what I did, and I will continue hating myself for it. Why do you do any of this? Why are they helping?" He looked around for the hunter, he couldn't know for sure if they were still here or not.
I was.
And he would know, from the gaze burning into his flesh.
The creature tipped its head, shifting in an odd blurry way, like the seams of this intrusion on reality were coming undone. The air was suffocating so close to it. Almost crackling.
"What else is this for?"
"It's part of the game. And we all have our roles to play."
Silas barked, "He's a poor mother kid, he doesn't need to be playing your stupid fucking game."
His mother.
"What's gonna happen to her if you get your way?"
Again, animal-song laughter echoed in the air, in his head.
It tipped back on its heel, crossing its feet and tapping their chin in an almost childlike way.
"Oh the mother, the poor poor mother. Her poor broken heart, losing her only son."
"You know what will happen. You've seen her poor brother."
Would that really happen to her too? Did that mean Arthur had a face before, what had been taken from that family by these monsters.
'We can't let that happen.'
'It might be out of our hands now.'
His guts twisted, as he observed the beasts playful nature, it was infuriating. He wanted to tear this monster in half.
"And you two? On to the next poor sap after you're done with him?"
Again, laughter, throwing its head back.
It was close to him now, suffocatingly close, sending a spike of pain through his skull from looking at it that intensely.
They grinned.
"We've been here long before him, we'll be here long after, and after you."
Again, gone, as if in smoke.
"There's always another, so the story goes."
Not a reassuring answer, no way to stop those things. He didn't have the means to do so and he doubted anyone like him could.
He steeled his nerves, he didn't like looking at that thing but it was better knowing where it was.
"There's another one of you freaks, the ones who speak to me, know more than they should. How are they affiliated with you." 'The Watcher' as he referred to them. He knew nothing, but that they were the one who allowed actions to happen. He theorized they were the one looking through his thoughts and unanswered asks this past year.
For a moment, silence.
It wasn't clear where it was, but its voice rang out all the same.
"You're a funny thing. You have some things twisted, don't you?"
Across the space, it wasn't clear how far away, but there it was, a blotch on reality like the spots in his vision.
"Are they one and the same?"
"The fuckers who have been harassing me and the people I give a shit about, are they your fucking boss?" His face burned, his throat hurt, he shouldn't be here. Every fiber in his body was screaming for him to run as far away as possible, but another part of him needed answers.
Only a fool would think he could run regardless.
The glint of a spear, sharp teeth, sharp claws, the reminder.
Again, it cocked its head, low giggling laughter in his ears.
It was closer, and crossed its feet, giving an almost theatrical motion into a bow. The darkness, the distortion, trailed behind it like an after-image.
"What good is a show without an audience? What point of a play in an empty theater?"
So they weren't. Or, maybe they were. Given the beast's earlier statement. It was a confusing matter, one that just reignited the fire inside of him.
"Infuriating, just a show. Like I don't care about him with all my fucking heart." Pain, a longing for who would soon be gone, who was still gaining distance from him right now more than likely.
"What a shitty fighter, can't even put down a mutt without losing an eye." He was losing his cool, clenching his fists again, body shaking with rage.
"Why the fuck did you two draw me out here?"
Its eyes followed movement away from him, circling in tighter, as the tension grew heavier.
It cocked its head, and the air was difficult to breathe, chilled more than it should.
With too-human-too-sharp teeth, it smiled.
"To play the game."
"And for that poor, poor boy, all alone now."
It was leaning down, icy breath close to his face, and tipped up to look him in the eye through its long hair.
"You wouldn't trust a monster alone with him, would you?"
"It takes one to know one!" He cried out at the beast, reaching the end of his rope, fists shaking.
"You don't protect anyone, you're the entire reason he's hurting the way he is, that he's being tormented with that shit eating away at him, that he can't look his own Uncle in the eyes!" He pulled at his hair again.
"I might be a monster, but you're worse, you're far worse than I will ever be."
Its grin simply got wider.
And it laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
They didn't care, not one bit. Not about Lus, not about him, not even about the hunter they were paired with. It infuriated Silas.
His fists were shaking, he was panting as he stared at the beast.
'You're a demon. You deserve worse than death.'
He reared his fist back, and threw his entire weight into a punch straight in the fox's direction.
All the force.
Stopped in an instant, halfway.
By an impossible grip.
The momentum carried, knocking him off his feet, hanging by the hand, wrapped in the fox's claws.
Looming large, it stared down at him, the light and heat sucked away. Its face sliced into a smile, voice almost hissed in his ear.
"Awfully cocky, aren't we?"
It leaned closer to his face.
"I thought you would've learned this lesson by now."
He stared, angrily at the fox, breath picking up as he was lifted off of his feet. He couldn't pull away, he couldn't bare the suspense. All he could do was squirm in a futile attempt for freedom.
It seemed to take delight in it.
"All this bark, but it looks like the poor little wolf lost its teeth."
Darkness bled in around them like oil on water, but its unreal eyes still pierced into his soul. A low, chuckling laughter filled the air.
"I shouldn't be able to touch you. But your god has a very cruel sense of humour."
Its grip tightened around his hand, constricting the muscles, popping the bones, spiking pain.
It grinned.
"So listen well."
Feeling his bones pop and snap, it seered up Silas' arm, a screaming pain that he could barely begin to express through the wail of his own. His hand felt like putty as it was deformed by the fox's impossibly tight grasp, accompanied by the sound of bone being crunched like a bag of crackers.
An awful, disgusting noise.
Its face distorted into a a slow, sharp smile while he screamed.
A terrible rush of adrenaline washed through his system, a sickly concoction of chemicals that only added to the mix of emotions Silas felt, staring back at that monster's smile.
"Ghhhh- you. . . you Are a sick fuck."
Its head slowly tipped to the side with that too-sharp grin, practically in mockery.
And in a single swift motion, crushed his hand the rest of the way.
"G-GhhhaaAHHHHGHHHHHH!"
By that broken limb, he was lifted up, to meet their eyes.
He was shaking, body tense, eyes clenched as he collected his words. Mind muddied by broken bone and crushed sinew.
"What the fuck are you?"
That haunting face contorted into a sinister, delighted expression, eyes glinting.
Its voice was almost soft.
"Call me the Devil, if you like."
He was left hanging, staring into those horrible eyes, while the darkness distorted the world around him, suffocating, cold.
Until it all disappeared in a veil of echoed laughter.
Dropping him unceremoniously to the ground.
Silas fell to his knees, clenching his arm with the broken hand, seething he sat there, left to reflect on the fox's words, left to reflect on his mistakes today.
...
One year.
A full turn of the seasons of our little game.
You've been enjoying it, having fun with the show.
I've seen it, and I'm so very glad.
And how wonderful he's been, playing his role amazingly.
...
He was meant to be dead by now, y'know.
But some things don't go neatly, the chaos of a human life.
How lucky we are, then, that we get to play with him for a little while longer.
It'd be such a shame to leave our friend off unfulfilled.
So stay in your seats, pay attention.
There's much fun left to be had as we enter the next act of our grand play.
// closeup under the cut
Oh poor boy, poor sweet little thing.
In his dreams, he feels the biting bitter cold, the swirling snow.
He knows how it feels now, teeth chattering, fingers turning blue, a little life whimpering in the snow, waiting to be snuffed out.
A little one-eyed friend has paid him a visit in his dreams, too.
Standing behind a tree, unmoving as the poor boy watches, speaking in a familar voice, his dear sweet mother, twisting tongue and things she would never say to him.
You worry me, little boy, she says.
Your heart has grown cold and frosty, you're no child of mine.
Their mouth never moves when they speak, simply left to see that eye in the darkness.
Oh poor boy, oh sweet thing.
It haunts you still, a chill in your bones, and it will haunt you till the day you die.