Hello all! My take on 'The Pitch-attack AU', so I hope this will be worth your time. Also, Im sorry for the errors that will be displayed throughout this fic. I really have no idea what Im writing and Im not the best at English u_u.
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He was a very hatred-filled man indeed. But wasn't it appropriate, though? Considering he was the infamous 'Boogey-man', a title he didn't wanted not need.
From his war with the guardians, he was growing weaker by the minute. Less and less children believed in him, and now, he was living in complete isolation again. After feeling the sensation of being seen, what man could give that up? Who would want to live forever without being seen nor heard? Anyway man would go completely mental. So his state was, in a way, completely understandable.
With the slender figure of his, he slipped into the shadows, travelling through it as he slithered in a hide-out that resembled a burrow. It was a very dull looking one compared to North nor the Tooth Fairy's. The walls were grey- coloured boulders. Candle-light shone the room with an ominous aura.
There were hardly any decorations in the burrow besides the grand, golden sandglass that was taller than the ceiling and had little tubes attached from the very bottom of the glass then to the very top. The little globe that was speckled with glowing dust was accompanied by it.
A man, much more older than Pitch, stepped out of the shadows and inspected the sandglass. He adjusted his glasses that sat on the tip on his nose, then with a very wrinkly, skeleton-looking finger, he tapped the sandglass. -Making some sand fall into the pit.
With a very quiet step, the boogeyman revealed himself to the other male, hands clasped behind his back as he stood in a very elegant posture. "Hello old friend." He greeted mockingly.
The other man did not bother to stare at him as his eyes was completely fixed on the sandglass. "Do not call me 'friend'. We are hardly acquaintances." He replied with a croaky voice - indicating that he had not talked to anyone for a couple of hundred years.
"Let's not act folly now, Father of Time." Pitch replied, taking cautious steps towards the other man. "Let's get straight to business, shall we?"
"Do not call me that." Father of Time replied. He turned to face Pitch, his appearance now visible and not hidden by the shadow. He was a man with a slightly droopy face. A beard that extended to the floor. With his black coat and frown, he did not look appealing to the children indeed. "You are here to ask again.. Then I presume you already know my answer."
"I do, but I won't take no for an answer." Pitch replied calmly.
"I told you, no. Tampering with someone's time is as bad as tampering with the balance of nature." Father of Time explained with the gruff voice of his. One skeleton-like hand exited his robes, only to make the gesture of 'shoo-ing' Pitch like he was some sort of animal. "Leave, now. You're wasting your time. And trust me on this, boy. Your time is running out."
Pitch sneered. From his nightmare sand, he had formed a horse out of the shadows. "I don't like repeating myself, old man."
Turning to the horse, he patted her. "Now my little nightmare, attack."
And a second passes and the controller of time was down to his knees. But for him, vision of black clouded his sight. Screams and wails of despair flooded through his eardrums. It felt like an eternity of never-ending torture. And he knew all too well that, that was just the beginning.
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And that was the prologue, folks! I cross my heart that my chapters will be much more longer than this.
