(The prologue to an Ask-Sanders-Sides series where the Other Sides wish to get rid of the characters we know and love. This is how the story begins; but you can help with how the story ends by sending in Asks!)
(Warnings: Slight body horror, mention of needles, one f-word swear, unsympathetic OC Sides)
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Within the familiar and boring hallways of grey; a singular door sits in a hallway that we must have gone down before. It is not far from the commons or our rooms; surely someone would have seen it before.
“Huh…” At the empty sounding voice, I instinctively straighten my back and raise my chin. He may not care but the Side has been known to have a loose tongue sometimes. With a glance, I look over the dishevelled man whose signature look is looking like he is homeless as he gazes at the door without showing any emotion. He has his baggy cargo pants that cover his bare feet, a loose-fitting grey shirt hangs around his torso as lifelessly as he walks, and his knotted brown hair reaches his shoulders. His grey eyes and the walls around us have the same numb, dullness as each other. Alex is as never changing as always. “It’s just a door… Bye.”
“Oh no you don’t!” Another Side picks Alex up before he could shuffle away and easily throws him over their shoulder. The guy weighs as much as an empty bucket, but Bee’s strength probably makes him weigh even less. “You can’t leave yet, my lovely little A! We still need to know what’s in there for me to take!”
He replies with a hum of acknowledgement and remains as still as a ragdoll on Bee’s shoulder. The flamboyant Side uses her free hand to fix up her neon pink hair and pushes down a part of their rainbow crop-top that was beginning to hike up, as if it would do anything to hide the amount of skin that she was showing off. She flashes me one of her bright smiles as she motions towards the door.
“Are you going to open it, dearest?”
“Once Marcus is–” The click of the door draws me to the figure in black opening the door himself. With a huff I push him aside, only for my eyes to widen at the singular object that sits within a rainbow-splashed room. It sits in the centre, reflecting off a non-existent light source that makes me doubt that what I am seeing is real.
The Others whisper behind me as I take a step, then another, pushing myself through the waves of emotions and almost overwhelming thoughts; towards the object that radiates with power. It is a sign, an omen, a prophecy– it is the beginning of a new Era for those of us that damned Snake left down here to rot in the grey.
“Bee… Get my cape. It’s finally time to meet our Host.”
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I’m surrounded by hypocrites. The bitterness on my tongue increases with every other sentence, and yet none of them listen when I say that Morality is still holding back his negative emotions or when Logic says that he’s ‘fine’ after someone apologises for calling him names. And yet, Roman is more consistent than usual with his lies. I can’t tell if he’s lying about how he feels or about his apologies or that comment about being hungry suddenly. Maybe he’s lying about everything and is trying to overload my taste buds. Although, that is more of a Remus thing then a Roman thing…
“I told you Specs; I didn’t make him say that! It must have been either Patton or Virgil because I wasn’t involved.” The bitterness has worn off a little, perhaps he is telling the truth.
“Don’t blame me, Princey.” Virgil’s hood is up, he must still be affected by how upset Camden had looked. From what I gathered; he’s had a tough week, and this obviously affected him and Thomas enough for these four to still be arguing at this late hour. They’re so ingrained in the conversation that they stopped giving me side glances after the first ten minutes of being here. “He said that he was ‘obviously better then Camden’ when he was right beside Thomas. That’s an egotistical thing to do…”
“Sure, yeah- but it wasn’t by my prompting! I don’t know why he said it, but the blame does not fall to me!”
“This is easily solved if you would let me get a word in.” Logan’s frustration rears its head for a moment before he adjusts his tie and locks gazes with me. His dark blue eyes watching me with a hint of exhaustion lining his features. So much would get accomplished if the others simply listened to him more… and if he would simply admit that he too has feelings. “Deceit, could you tell us if Roman is lying or not?”
“Why are you asking him!? He’ll just say whatever to make the argument tip in his favour!”
“Virgil, we all wish for this argument to end, including Deceit. He can obviously detect lies and the best option for him is to tell us the truth so that we can finally end this altercation.”
I can’t help but smirk a little as Anxiety grows quiet, yet his eyes attempt to burn a hole through my skull as I clear my throat. “Roman isn’t lying. He wasn’t a part of Thomas’ decision to say… whatever he said exactly.”
“But someone influenced him.” Oh, and the father figment finally speaks up. He looks like a scared child, with his head slightly ducked and his hands fiddling with the cardigan over his shoulders. For the past hour, he’s been lying whenever he said that he was okay; I’m genuinely surprised that he’s managed this long without breaking down into an emotional mess of tears. “So if it wasn’t Roman, then who?”
“Oh, because that’s definitely my problem.” Thomas hurting his poor friend’s feelings isn't my department. As long as he doesn’t overwork himself in order to fix that friendship, then I simply do not care. “I don’t have somewhere to be. I won’t be taking my leave now–”
“But you’ll miss out on all the fun, Deceit.” The small hairs across my body stand on end as a chill runs down my spine as the familiar clicking of boots walk down the stairs Virgil had jumped away from. Slowly his familiar regal appearance comes into plain view, with his attire a darker red then Roman’s and a velvet cape trailing behind him. Weirdly, a crown I’ve never seen before sits atop his golden hair, with minerals of different colours and sizes decorating the golden polish.
His attire and the scheming look in his eyes are forgotten as my eyes land on a familiar figure laying limp in his arms. His sash a dull green and skin even paler than it already was. My feet propel me forward as he rolls Remus from his arms, catching him before he hits the ground. He feels too light.
“R-Remus!? What… Who the hell–”
“Oh stop with your stuttering, Anxiety. I don’t plan to be here all day.” His smirk grows wider still as I take Remus away from his reach; feeling a sinking pit in my stomach as the friend in my arms remains unconscious and how the Prince is beginning to sway on his feet.
Patton spares Roman a glance before offering a forced smile. “I… um… Hello? Who may you be, kiddo?” Not in the mood for long introductions, I hiss to interrupt him and gain my own smirk as his eyes flash with anger. It’s as if a fire itself starts behind his eyes; anger has always been a weakness of his.
“No… No, I don’t think so, Deceit. You see, I’m finally the one in control.” With a dramatic raise of his hand and a snap of his fingers, my blood runs cold as Roman’s eyes roll into the back of his head and falls into a heap on the floor. His bright red sash dims significantly, just like Remus’ green has. “Let’s just say that there’s a reason why the beloved Prince grew quiet at the sight of me.” In a flash, he appears closer to me as Logan is flung into the wall by an invisible force. An array of shocked noises fill the room for a moment before everything grows quiet, all eyes on the stationary logical trait.
“Wh-Why? He… He didn’t…” He’s suddenly in front of Patton now as my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. This isn’t happening; they weren’t supposed to be able to escape. Remus tested it, he tests it every fucking year, and he makes sure that no amount of force or lockpick or array of chemicals could break down that door.
I almost don’t notice Patton falling to the floor in a heap.
Or that Virgil is having trouble breathing behind me.
Or that Casimir is suddenly before me now.
It takes a hand to my jaw and the disappearance of the weight in my arms for me to throw a kick at his leg; not expecting it to go right through. I rip off my gloves as the hand shifts to my throat, attempting to claw at his face only for chains to suddenly hold them at my sides. How did they get there!?
“I’m more than just Pride now. I’m King Creativity. And Thomas is just going to love the changes that go on around here– while the rest of you…” His hand tightens around my windpipe as he trails off, holding me high above the ground as a figure collapses beside us. Through the unwanted tears in my eyes, I can just barely see Virgil’s face and quickly moving chest. The panic attack he was thrown into caused him to pass out from hyperventilating.
Now they’re all unconscious.
And that’s Misery standing right behind Pride; smirking at me from beneath his hood.
“Now, now. Look at me while I’m speaking, you worthless snake.” My chest is beginning to burn from the lack of air and the sudden pain from my neck sends me into the beginning of a darkness. The cackling fire in Casimir’s eyes is all I can see. “Join them and suffer thrice as much as we have.”
I don’t manage to breathe before the darkness takes me.
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Waves of pain overflow my senses as conscious slowly returns to me. It takes a moment before I’m able to identify that my right ribs, my right arm and my head all have a dull yet noticeable ache to them. The image of that regal figure –I think I remember someone naming him Pride– sends my thoughts in many different places.
Firstly, I need to know where I am.
Opening my eyes shows that someone had put a small crack into the bottom right corner of my glasses and that I’m in a room made from what seems to be stone. Turning my head makes the throbbing all the worse, but I don’t stop until I see an iron door leading to the outside judging by the trees. It’s medieval like, so I’m most likely in the imagination. A few distant voices are audible, so I’m not in the middle of nowhere with nothing around at least.
Then secondly, I should try to understand how I got here.
It couldn’t have been Roman or Remus; the both of them seemed completely unconscious and incapable of kidnapping me into the Imagination. Besides, they’ve both always asked first. Which would leave Pride to have brought me here for whatever reason. He managed to knock out both sides of Creativity, which means that he’s significantly stronger than them.
Now thirdly, pay attention to the pain that I’m in and see if anything’s severely damaged.
A grunt of pain claws its way from my throat as I force myself to my feet. It’s mainly my right side that aches, and checking beneath my… dark blue robes that I seem to be now in, show that I have a dark bruise over my ribs. I can breathe easily and there don’t seem to be any lumps sticking out, so I don’t have any broken bones. And now that I’m standing, a pain I hadn’t registered before sticks out to me.
My lips hurt. It’s not an ache, it’s a stinging pain that feels like a paper cut but on a higher threshold of pain. My fingers brush over them, freezing as soon as they get caught on something. I pull, but the pain in my lips worsen. Involuntary tears cloud my vision as I gently run my fingers over the rest of my lips, feeling something akin to wire sitting over them. Through my lips. Sown through my lips.
A new ache appears in my chest, although I’m more familiar with this type of ache. It springs up whenever that stinging sensation appears; even more so when the wetness of blood accompanies it. It attempts to cloud my thoughts, to bring up everything that does not need to be brought up right now, but I focus on a blur of white.
I wipe my eyes with the robe’s sleeves and quickly pick it up, finding unfamiliar handwriting scrolled across it. It’s messy and quick, written in a pink pen instead of black. I need something to ground myself, away from the stinging; these words will have to do.
I must be swift and careful with my words. I wish to warn you that the Others are after full control over Thomas. Pride is their leader, with King Creativity’s once missing crown sitting atop his head. Three Sides stand at his beck and call, each with their own strengths and weaknesses.
As an ally, one that is sadly unable to assist in your dilemma personally, I have managed to give you a type of guidance. You will hear voices once you’ve read these words, some will have names linked to them and others will not. They have the ability to help or hinder you and the other Sides. Call them Fanders.
Do not trust anyone born from the Imagination as they are under Pride’s control now. Find the others –Roman, Remus, Virgil, Patton and Deceit– who are in a similar predicament as that wire sown into your flesh. Let these guides help you find the others trapped in the Imagination with you and perhaps you’ll be able to get to him in time. And please look after one another.
You’ll find that the iron door is unlocked. The village is readying the pyre to burn you at as you’re an accused warlock, so be hasty.
Best of luck my friend.
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Deceit, Patton, Virgil, Roman and Remus aren’t able to be asked until Logan has physical contact with them. The Others also can’t hear you as the stranger’s magic forbids it. Now with that said; the Ask box is now open!
