There are 13 kinds of Kitsune, celestial, Kawa, ocean and thunder.. but there is one. The dark Kitsune, the carnivore; Nogitsune. The Nogitsune draws it's power from pain and tragedy, strife and chaos. It exists, to cause suffering, and won't stop until it gets a taste of the bitter fruits of it's labor. Like an obsessive hunter, stalking its prey.
Who better to draw from then little, skinny, defenseless, Stiles. He wasn't exactly the highest, or most important chain in the link, but what he lacked in brute strength he made up for in all the little things he did. He had somehow managed to be the only person who was interlinked with everyone. He wasn't what anyone would call important, but he was precious.
When the Nogitsune took over his mind, body and anything else he ever had, it was the perfect plan. For stiles, it was worse then just the mind games. It was like there was constantly something crawling beneath his skin, snaking its way up his arm and bulging out wherever it crept. It was painful, and hopeless.
"Have you figured out my riddle yet?"
Stiles kept himself balled up in the corner of a dark, and damp room. The cold floor make it hard to ignore how alone he was. The only way he could be sure that there was in fact, someone else in the room, was the echoing voice, whispering spine-chilling words into his ear.
"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"
He inhaled a shaky breath. He wanted to wipe his nose. The room was cold, and his goose bumps were rough against his hands as he rubbed his arms, desperately trying to create heat. "You don't understand do you?" the voice cooed deeply, smothering his sanity bit by bit, "It's a riddle... Do you know any riddles Stiles?"
Stiles was fighting every urge to cry, to the point that he started to hold his breath, sharply exhaling through his nose when he couldn't hold it any longer. It made a sound that let the Nogitsune know how venerable he was. How truly broken down he was, not referring to his ankle, but to his mind. He just wanted to lie down and sleep through all of it, but his fear wouldn't let him. It kept his eyes open in the darkness, well aware he couldn't see two feet in front of himself. "I Don't Know!" he screamed to the shadows.
A decrepit voice chuckled against his cheek, making him flinch away. He clenched his jaw when he got his wits about him, knowing it was just more of their scheming. He cradled his head in his arms, drawing his knees up to his chest defensively. He cringed when his ankle make a crackling sound, sending jolt after jolt of pins-and-needle pain up his leg. Stile let out a pained cry, desperately demanding what to do, "What.. are you doing to me?"
"Making lunch."
It sounded like multiple voices now, circling his head even though there was a wall directly behind him. It started to dull a bit, that dark voice suddenly becoming soothing and familiar. "Stiles..." it spoke.
"No." he ordered, shaking his head as he rang shaky fingers through his hair, "No. You won't use him." his breathing got heavier as crying got harder to hold back, "Please. Just stop.."
His father's voice sounded so close to him, like he could reach out and grab onto him if he extended his arm. "Stiles... It's me."
"No. It's just a dream. This is all in my head.."
Something kicked his leg, knocking his broken ankle off balance, and sending more waves of pain up his body. He screamed desperately, half of him praying desperately for help, the other knowing perfectly well that none would come.