They were there again- marooned in the acrylic-looking blackness that had come to indicate Their dark side. Other nations had all intimated different forms of the dark sides of themselves, no two being quite alike in appearance or manner. All had indicated the shadow beings taking human form however.
So why did Theirs choose to make itself known only as light and sound?
It might have been that the negative manifestation was trying to make itself seem an alluring option by means of pageantry, They postulated quietly within Their dreamscape. As much as They wanted to deny the actual success of that tactic, They'd never been one to lie, either to Themself or others. Their thoughts were interrupted by a soft beat, the Melodic Manifestation (as They'd dubbed it) seeming to tap Their shoulder lightly in an attempt for attention. This happened nightly, yet the exasperation They felt towards the facetiously meek behavior only grew with each passing moment.
"What do you want, Emmy?" Their mental voice shattered the velvet quietness that had lain about Them in a sort of oppressive, forced serenity. A strange hum vibrated around Them, the odd noise highly remeniscent of someone who was thinking up a lie when put on the spot. It was an astoundingly ugly emission if one were to consider that Emmy went out of It's way to avoid any negative connotation pertaining to action. If immaterial sentiences could fidget, It would be practically bouncing. Their tone might have had something to do with It's anxiety, but there were also countless other justifications for such a countenance. The hum reached an ear-itchingly loud climax before ceasing suspiciously suddenly and being replaced by a brief flash of something disgustingly smug. Now the game would begin in earnest, and Emory would most certainly be on the losing side of this match. Emmy would make positive of it.
"Why would I want anything?" The melody seemed to trill, the high notes simultaneously revealing it's evasion and stiff inhumanity amid the tatters of silence. The ploy this round was obviously capitalization upon Their very intense dislike of liars- an extremely basic move on It's part meant to undermine Their ability to judge It's capability in attempting to wrest control of the corporeal vessel from Their control. Two could play at this game.
"The same reason that you come to bother me every night." The palpitations of the tune were deeper now, more careless. They suppressed a self-satisfied grin- Emmy was very petty when provoked, highly childish despite it's insistence of elegance and refinement. This however was not the reason for the elicitation of the snarky nature of the smile. It had acted exactly as expected, right down to the highly convincing 'anger' at being called out for It's painfully obvious farce. Their ploy was going to be spread over the course of several rounds, and would be employed to force Emmy to be stalled out at this point in the conversation. If impasse was to be the name of the game, then none were better equipped to annihilate their opponent than Emory- They were an expert in guerilla tactic and the word attrition was usually a sign of Their imminent success. They felt the impatience of the Melodic Manifestation as It railed against Their static statement.
"You know you want to listen, Emory." This was rich- it was sulking! Nevertheless, the statement was utterly and incontestably true. They loved how Emmy could contort it's being into new and indescribable versions of it's consciousness that were comparable in complexity to that of the idea of quantum physics. But that absolutely did not mean that They were afraid to stymie It if it meant that It would get no further into severing Their portion of the psyche from control of their body. They'd denied Themself shallow pleasures for long enough not to really be bothered by the absence of the sensation. Except... Singing wasn't a shallow pleasure, was it? Most assuredly not- to Them at least. Singing was an integral part of Their magic and Their being, and nothing They'd encountered to date gave Them quite the euphoric rush that even humming a simple tune did. The more They pondered upon the subject, the more They started to feel a horrifying sort of kinship with that Tantalus figure of Grecian mythos. An acrid flavor coated Their tongue as bitterness welled within Them. They knew what It was doing- a blind man could see what It was doing, but that didn't make it any less agonizing on Emory's part and that was what made Them angry about it. Emmy didn't care! Emmy was cruel and would cull the stock until it got exactly what It wanted or thought It deserved. Well, They weren't going to allow that to happen! With an indistinguishably miffed air, They launched the next phase of Their offensive.
"Stop wasting our time then, Emmy." With a petulant spike in volume as Their only acknowledgement, the regular nocturnal cycle was right on schedule. The two's animosity was going to come to a head at some point, just not tonight.
Or was it? A sensation akin to being stabbed in the gut ripped through Their brain as It started to sing, and the need to retaliate became a pillar of Their current state of being. But how? How could They retaliate when They were too busy trying not to yell from the pain of it all. And then They knew- or knew as much as they could when incapacitated mentally like this. Emory's face crumpled into a rictus of muscles tightened to capacity, and an animalistic screech of agony fled Their mouth as if frightened by itself. Their countermeasure was effective, the god awful high tone ending and allowing Them to consolidate Themself before It could think to start up again.
"Did that hurt, Emory?" Emmy's shock had instantly been replaced by a sadistically gleeful chortle of a feeling. It was unrepentant about what It'd done, choosing instead to focus It's energy on reveling over the fact that it could hurt Them without even lifting a finger. If that didn't spoonfeed Emmy's narcissism, nothing would. What a repulsive being.
They wouldn't dignify that thing with an answer- "If you don't have the capacity to understand that what you did was wrong, there's no point in speaking with you, Emmy." Okay, so maybe They would. So sue Them. They started grinding Their teeth together when It started to cackle. The sound was disturbingly dissonant and mocking, Emmy seeming beside Itself with a sick mirth. Something must have been supremely hilarious because of how much It was giggling. They'd give It to the count of four.
An openly malicious air wrapped around Them, and They wondered if Their mind was truly their own anymore. If this thing could so easily corrupt Their dreamscape, how much power were They unwittingly allowing It to garner? One. A squeezing feeling began to intensify, Their bones experiencing phantom pains in burning detail. Since when was Emmy even remotely capable of pressing It's will upon her own? Since when would It even dare? Two. It had two more counts to get ahold of Itself before They taught It a lesson It would never forget. Their temper hadn't been this close to blowing a gasket in forever, and it wasn't a very pleasant feeling- They felt the miasma that circled them ripple mischievously. Like It knew something They didn't. Three. All the fine hairs on Their body stood on end, the feeling that something was completely wrong flashing though Their stomach along with an unpleasant bottomlessness. What on earth was the matter?! A panicked tattoo set up residency within Their chest, heart sent drumming away by what was materializing out of the fog in Their head and into acuity. Mouth agape, Their eyes bugged as It fully formed Itself in front of Them, struck dumb.
"Four." Emmy said, stopping as if to taste the way It's voice worked and how the words sounded when actually spoken and not simply conceptualized. A smirk carved its way across It's face, and Emory suddenly knew what exactly abject terror was. It's newborn eyes travelled to It's hands, then back up Their body to connect with Theirs. If it could even be possible, the smirk got more awful. Emmy reached a finely-made hand towards Their face, and it was in that moment that They fully comprehended the abomination that was before Them. Something like Emmy couldn't, shouldn't have even a vague humanoid form- that would be to stipulate that It was capable of empathy and compassion as well as apathy and cruelty. It was only capable of the latter.
Emory blasted into action- They had to leave. Now. Adamantine chains shot into existence and bound themselves around It, seeming to promise that they'd never let go. The miasma that held Them in place vanished, Emmy letting out a wail as It was dragged frantically back into Their subconscious to be permanently entombed. It was still weak, and It would stay that way, They'd make sure!
"You can't do this to me!" What?! Where was that coming from They thought They'd- "I'm you! We're one, don't you see?!" Crazed ravings filled the space around Them, desperation tainting Their panicking breaths-
Emory woke up thrashing in the morning light, stopping only to let out a relieved sigh and chuckle at Their bad dream. Their hand stopped just short of Their face when They heard how Their voice rasped and felt how much Their throat stung. It felt like a million bees made of sandpaper were buzzing around Their vocal cords.
It felt like They'd been singing all night.