Swirls and Splotches
by Shaneey
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Happy Halloween, Troika! (Yes, I do realize its belated XDD but only by a few days...)
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He knelt on the ground.
It felt as if he had no control over his limbs.
He did, though, he knew he did.
He thought he might at least.
He lacked the will, though. He had no desire.
He felt very little.
He felt the pain. The injuries, but he felt no remorse, or if he did, it was so numb, so beaten down, Harry didn't register it.
He had been captured.
He had been held in a small area, Dark he called it. He didn't know where. He didn't think of how. He didn't care about why. Time's passage meant nothing.
When he was removed from the Dark, they didn't bother to chain him anymore. He hadn't tried to move in their presence for a time that felt akin to an eternity.
He thought he might have struggled at first. He was sure it had just made the pain more. He hated the pain. He wanted the pain to stop.
He didn't struggle anymore and only in the Dark did he speak.
He spoke to the figures in the Dark. He spoke to the kindly Swirls in his vision. He even conversed with the those grumpy Splotches. They were always so rude, though Harry didn't know why. He always tried to be so courteous, but their responses never varied in their hurtfulness. Sometimes he ignored the Splotches, conversing only with the Swirls, but this was very rare because Harry knew that, when he acknowledged the Splotches again, which inevitably he would, their insults would be worse than ever, lessening only when he had apologized and apologized.
He wanted back to the Dark now. The black cloaks had dragged him out in the middle of his apologies (the Splotches would be so angry now, Harry just knew it).
Harry eyes roamed franticly, wishing the Swirls could have accompanied him, but they never left the Dark. They were afraid of the black cloaks. Harry understood, but still, he wished they would come. They were so comforting.
As Harry continued kneeling, he knew there was something different.
The pain had stopped.
The pain never stopped, except for in the Dark.
He realized there was shouting. He realized bright lights were flaring all around him.
(He didn't like the lights.)
Harry curled up, shying away from the flying lights.
(He hated the lights. They burned.)
Curling further into himself, he vaguely heard the word the black cloaks called him.
"Harry!"
Uncurling only enough to see, Harry saw features he found familiar came into view.
The familiar one who wasn't a black cloak (Harry wondered if that meant something) slid to kneel in front of him, calling him by that word again.
Harry watched the familiar one, simply staring. He listened, uncomprehending, uncomprehending that he didn't comprehend the pleas.
He watched, unmoving, unspeaking, as a black cloak came from behind. He watched, flinching into himself again, as a light (He hated lights, always pain, always bright.) hit the familiar in front of her.
Harry stopped watching now. He closed his eyes, willing himself to his Dark.
It didn't take long for the Swirls to find him, Harry was delighted to find. They were so pleased to see him, in fact, that they decided to introduce him to a new acquaintance. He loved when the Swirls brought friends. Today they brought Dots to meet him, and they all began a most enjoyable conversation on the quality of stone floors.