In the dark William could see nothing but the tips of pink in his mustache. For a moment he wonders how could he see that when his mustache was under his nose, but then he remembers how nothing makes sense and moves on; following the pink tips through the dark room. At some point, his knee hit something to which William unloaded around from his gun into. Moving on he continues until finally reaching something that felt like a leather chair.
Falling elbow first William lands in the chair. Awkwardly placed he pushes his face deeper into the leather. How long had it been? How far had he run? Where was he again? Feeling despair he remembers how the questions don't matter. This world was crazy. He wasn't even if everyone said he was. He was William the colonel, not a man killer, or a crazy lunatic. No, he was something, someone else entirely.
Damien knew where he would be. It was the same place Warfstache always ran to when his senses would come back. For however short of a time he had them. He was always witty, that Warfstache even as William. Looking over he could see Celine moving along at a speed he himself no longer had the fuel for. Most days he let Selene remain in charge of the body and its words as he retreated in. Always contemplating what might have been, and how things got to this point.
"We are here," Celine informs him with a mouth that Damien couldn't remember if it was his or Mark's.
"I'll take it from here." Strange sounds he still believed to not be of this world fill them as the red around their shared body turns blue.
He hesitates in front of the broken open front door. Tapping the ground with his old cane, he takes two deep breaths as Celine's thoughts begin to poke through his own. "If you could refrain yourself." He growls feeling far more menacing then he met too. That won't do, he reminds himself as he straightens the tie.
"It happens," Celine announces sounding particularly proud of how uncomfortable her own past with Wilford made him.
Lighting strikes up from the ground nearby them. A sign he has begun another tangent of the same subject. The whole night that begun this mess. Damien steps inside the mansion ignoring the wave of energy that passes through their body as they do so. He taps the floor occasionally with his cane, making sure to do it often enough that Wilford should be able to hear him coming far before he would make it to the ill man.
Walking through the house for the first time again since Wilford's last complete breakdown was odd. Before nothing about it had changed. It never aged, and Damien had assumed that was due to the curse. Tonight it was a complete change from the house's norm. Not only were a few of the hung pictures torn down and thrown about, undoubtedly the work of Warfstache's fit, but the walls were beginning to show cracks. The stairs were not only covered with dust, but they also creaked without any being having to apply weight to them. As if the steps were becoming too much for even it supports to bear. Following his line of thought, Damien looks up through the attorney's eyes and see the same spot where Mark had first greeted his guest from.
"You are here to find HIM, remember?" Celine asks sounding impatient.
"I remember." He was currently remembering a lot. How this house had been the place where their friend William had grown up. How he lost it, and Mark was the one to buy it after. How as children William was so hyper he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Always gone when you wanted him, and there when you were just trying to hide. He had always been trying to hide, didn't he?
A sob tears Damien attention from the stairs towards the living area. A shiver crawls down their body, and Damien moves the legs to start running towards the room where it escaped from. Not breaking stride he runs their right shoulder straight through the door. The cane falls to the floor as Celine throughs their left arm over their shoulder.
"My cane," Damien mutters as his voice is projected out. It was supposed to be his turn. Yet she never let him have his way, he knew that. She always preached that. It was bothersome.
"Dami-Dark." William was lying uncomfortably in the same leather chair he had sat in when he heard the news about Mark. In a vision so far from what it had been. Instead of his safari hunt uniform, he now wore a striped pink shirt, overalls, a fully pink mustache, with black and pink striped pants. He was huddled into the chair. One leg pulled up to his chest, the other hanging off it hitting the floor at an awkward angle. His hands were wrapped around each other repeating a wringing motion as he pulls them closer to his chest. Wilford's face was covered in red splotches from his tears. There were stains on the chair from where his face had been buried in it before. Somehow Damien could see all of this in the dim light from a single lamp in the room.
It was a sight he had seen before, but it broke his non-existent, metaphorical heart all over again. Celine moves the body closer to Wilford and away from the cane. Damien cracks their neck in an attempt to relax their muscles.
"Hello, Warfstache."
"Why are you here?" Wilford asks shaking his head.
"To see you of course." Dark replies. Celine's words, Damien's voice.
"H-how, but how did you,"
"You always run here when you start to remember," Dark admits looking casually around the room. They flicker, a glimpse of Celine shouting, and Damien grabbing at his face appear in a flash and are gone again.
Wilford's eyes shine with light reflecting from unshed tears. In a moment they are cloudy again and the desperate look of shame, misfortune, guilt, sadness, and whatever else he may have been feeling were gone. Instead, he throws on a smile and unravels his hands. Curing the edges of his mustache he laughs.
"Well, it's nice to see you again ole Darky, my friend." Wilford laughs again, sounding more rambunctious that time. The man Looks dark up and down before winking. "Hey, are you stealing my look again?" He asks his hands gesturing to Dark's hair.
"Never." Dark growls. "What are you stilling doing here?"
Wilford looks around. Confusion flashes through his eyes as his smile grows. "I don't know." He admits before taking a step away. Dark turns around to spy that Wilford had appeared right outside the door. "I like this place." He decides to tap his knuckles on his head.
"Why?" Dark asks. Damien was growing concerned but Celine was becoming angry.
"Who knows," Warfstache replies popping from one place to another around the room. "That happens sometimes." He continues moving from the top of the stairs to the middle of the room. "Your eyes are just caught." Wilford glances at them with curiosity before moving on.
Dark watches as Wilford attempts to recover his happy go lucky attitude. There was still hints of the colonel all about him. His word choice, the complexity of his movements. He wasn't just walking around or moving at a fast enough speed to trick the eye. He was leaving and returning just as he had done so much before when he would leave on his hunts. If he were to return to his new normalcy it would either take an effort from Dark or Wilford to drain himself out first. It must be hard burying your demons.
"You constantly face yours," Celine whispers.
"We face ours." Damien corrects.
"Did you say something?" Warfstache asks walking out of the kitchen while balancing the tip of a knife on his fingers.
Dark stares at him, trying to keep themselves from plunging the knife farther into his finger. Another violent urge they had been fighting back lately. Mark was still free from their grasp, still in Damien's body, still haunting Wilford. It was time they finally put a stop to this. The only way to do that was to finally get Mark and free themselves.
Glancing at the broken mirror a shiver crawls down their back. Yes, it was time to end this. For Damien to take his body and for Celine to keep this one. Warfstache may finally be able to come back to the world as William. Perhaps even earn back his common sense, even though that is far less likely. Their lives would be better, and now he had the perfect plan. If they could only drag him back to this house. Force him to return and then put him through what he did to us. Damien turns their head back over to Warfstache. A deep feeling passes through him.
Take Damien's body back. Let Wilford find peace. End Mark.
A simple plan should do. Now they just had to decide how.
"Warfstache."
"Yes?" The madman asks sitting on top of a drawer on the other side of the room.
Darkiplier smiles back at the shell of a former "friend". "With all due respect, It's time to leave now. We have work to do."
Warfstache pouts, before shrugging his shoulders. Leaping from the drawer he flips in the air and lands with his hands above him, begging for applause. He was given a thunderous reply by the weather outside. Murder was on the mind, for more than one soul tonight.