Trick or Treat! 🎃 Pirriks
Trick or treat [ send for a treat! ] [ @theseverence ]
[On mobile so can not put under the cut until after work. But enjoy. ]
The age old question stands at the forefront of his mind now as he stands watching the drifting cosmos.
Pirriks stopped fearing death after the first death of his life. After being ripped apart piece by piece with his scattered body spread throughout houses and caches. But when he was revived by sweet Ley, he did not fear death anymore. Not if he had the chance to come back. Even if it was unconventional.
He did not fear death when he brought his house to battles, while he fought for glory and anything beyond the stars. He did not fear death as he fought and laughed in the fight.
He did not fear death when he captured the Onyx Kell, the old whirlwind survivor like himself. A famous eliksni in his own right.
Do you fear death, little Kell?
His eyes shut touching the new scars on his throat. He was a proud eliksni. He stood tall and took what he wanted, took what was his. Took what he needed to live and what would benefit the house. Vengeance for his siblings, protecting his daughter.
He had not feared death then.
He did not fear it as he tortured and antagonize the baronkell and nickpicked at details. Of how he tugged at his insecurities and worked on tearing him to shreds. How he forced him to his knees and taunted him.
He should have then. He should of feared the silent growing insanity. The insanity that he heard rumors of. The insanity that some would say he had himself ( did he? ) he should of feared the silent watching and the sudden cold feeling of dread that day. A feeling he was known to brush off.
He gives a shuddering sound , a whisper of his former voice.
Do you fear death now, puppet Kell? How you refused to listen to anyone's advice, how you played with fire? Look what you unleashed, Kell. The boogeyman will stalk you in your sleep, in your daydreams. He'll make you wish you weren't born. He'll play with your soul, play with your mind before he finally tearing you apart limb by limb laughing as he goes.
Pirriks doesn't fear death no.
But he does fear something worse then death. Something, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, that he brought onto himself. His primary hands clench pulling his cloak tighter around his body feeling the cold. His secondaries shake a moment before he forces them to cross against his chest.
He didn't heed the warnings. The signs that were during the whirlwind, the signs when Kings murdered his siblings. The stories of survivors rasping 'The Kings have a boogeyman. He's worse then death. Heed this warning, don't provoke him.'
His eyes squeeze shut and he rests his face against the cold glass. He feared hearing that crackling laughter when he's alone. He fears seeing that twisted grin and mad look. He fears that knife that will dig into his skin and tear his limbs apart finally crippling him. He fears what will happen to him if the tables are turned.
The boogeyman, the mad one. The rumored 4th.
