"GET OUT!" It comes out as a desperate scream against the wind, tortured and ripped to slivers in pieces, blowing towards them in droves; causing all of the Guardians to motion back, to try and get away from the former shadow who speaks so raw and rigid in every breath that it hurts them as well. It's ugly and this is a brutality, the cruelest of reminders in that this could have been any of them by way of example; this deception of the creature who came so close he could almost touch it, taste it, and feel the realness of it all before his dreams were burned to crisp ashes before his golden eyes.
He's throwing things at them, the rocks of the earth that frame his abode; he misses every time but to be honest they doubt that he's trying any more, he has become something so miserable in his own self and simple being of existence that there is not a single piece inside of him that cares what happens to himself let alone others. It's Toothiana who flies out first, knowing that she'll be able to fly away in time when the next rock is undoubtedly thrown.
To be honest none of the Guardians had truly regretted any of their actions up until this point, especially when it had come down to the Nightmare King, in their eyes he had done more than enough to deserve it, but by now they were feeling more than guilt.
"Pitch, please!" She's begging and she knows it and she isn't proud of it either, but some things can't be helped and at this rate they won't be moving past anything, so they might as well try.
"'Please' what pray tell? Have you not had enough; come back for more, precious Guardians? Then starve for I have nothing left to give and get out; if there ever was a second where one of you felt the sickness of sadness then sympathize and leave me be!" There's another crash as Tooth swoops out of the way, barely in enough time as it smashes against the cavern wall. They're getting nowhere and the hollowed and infamous King still refuses to reveal himself yet, covered even now in his own hiding place of shadows; the rocks come from different angles and his voice changes the sides from where it came each time he speaks, if he chooses to speak.
But now North steps forward with arms held wide and heart open to the man who lives only in the night, almost welcoming but as always he speaks with sincerity.
"Pitch! Listen to us for only a moment please-."
"No, no more, leave, leave now!" The sound of his voice is much closer now and louder as well, rage filled and hate fueled they know how close he really is; knowing even more silently that these shadows cannot hide the Nightmare man for long.
Its Jack then who more whispers it than says it in the background of it all, murmured with the taste of desperate longing.
"But He wants you to be a Guardian…" Suddenly there is the man molded by darkness before him, pointed teeth and curled nose and grey skin and eclipsed eyes and there he is, remaining enraged and ragged before them. Pitch's words drip then like his tongue is prickled in poison falling from cuts in his mouth and from his chipped lips.
"What?" The other current Guardians have eyes opened in surprise and jaws slackened in disbelief at Frost's actions, stunned that he would even dare to mention the very thing that they were working to very cautiously build up to. They understand the delicacy that the Nightmare King holds in this situation perhaps more so than Jack due to their age. To Jack, the Guardians have always been around; yet to Sanderson, Bunnymund, North, and Toothiana they know that that is not necessarily true, they all remember very well what it was like when only Pitch's darkness reigned supreme, in the days when they were chosen to fight against him and alongside The Man in the Moon.
He looks then to the others gathered around him, checking with them if they have reason to objectify to the boy's statement, but upon finding none he questions it.
"What kind of diseased joke is He using to toy with me now?" It is only North who finds the strength to answer him and give him the select respect to continue to do so.
"He has chosen you, Pitch Black, to become a Guardian."
"No he hasn't." There is disgust twisted to hold Pitch's denial in place to combat North's strong certainty.
"He has though; He gathered us together, and He chose you."
"But He would never choose me…"
"…Perhaps something has changed in Him, and he decided that now was your time…"
"Well then I refuse it."
"You can't just refuse to becoming a Guardian-."
"Ah but I do. I wouldn't join your reindeer games North, so go home and act as though nothing has changed, carry on with your ridiculous antics for I won't have any of it; consider this transaction over and count it as a victory against my unredeemable forces. Give Him whatever he needs to hear in order for him to understand this: I refuse to become a part of his elaborate farce." Bunnymund is quick to join North's right flank.
"Look, mate, you can't just-."
"But I CAN. Do you not understand or do you just decide not to listen? I am not one of your simple-minded lackeys or spastic allies; I am your enemy and I always have been. Do you think that you're the only ones; do you think others haven't come before you? Because believe me they have. And I'll let you in on a little secret; every single one of them has come and gone and faded away but I have always been here and I always will be, circumstances non withstanding, even the non believers cannot smother the fear that is my plight for I will always endure. Will you?" It wasn't anything any one of them could truly answer without a waver of doubt in their mind, which seemed to be exactly what the King had wanted as he humorlessly smirked at the seeds he had planted in their heads; for he knew those emotions all too well.
"Go back to your Palaces and Warrens and Islands and Lakes and Factories; continue on with your little plans to spread joy and happiness and wonder and dreams and fun, and enjoy it for who knows how long it will last." Jack walks towards him, borderline seething at the Nightmare man at the presumptuous accusations; he knows that he is expendable, but the rest of them aren't, not the big four especially.
"The children will always need us and we will always be there for them no matter what you say, we will always be around no matter how hard you may try or how close you may come to extinguishing us; there will always be children who believe in us." Pitch's poor excuse of a smile is gone then and replaced with something a kin to reality; hardened and tired of pathetic wishes that never came true and all of the prayers that went unanswered.
"'The children who will always believe in you'? That's funny. I distinctly remember thinking the same damned thing, and look what happened Jack. Look at how wrong I turned out to be; if nothing gold can stay then I certainly doubt there's any more room for the rest of you." There was the certainty of the way he said it that made it feel as though he was reading off proven facts, and in many ways he was; Jack had heard of the Dark Ages and how Pitch had ruled it for thousands upon thousands of years and now he had fallen down to this, from being believed in by the hundreds and now only believed by only the most paranoid children who were easy game on his part.
Oddly though Tooth flew towards him, cautiously now but only careful so on the shades part, familiar with his ways for she was one of the oldest besides Sanderson of course; to whom Pitch was a sort of kindred spirit. Yet the little sanded man had elected to stay behind them all, not out of fear but out of old timed resentment and the quiet belief that perhaps The Man in the Moon might have been wrong and made a mistake just this once; Pitch would never be Guardian material even if he had wanted to be, he held crime records that were frowned upon even the most hardened criminal.
"Pitch, I understand that you don't want this for all the reasons that you have, but if you could just come to the surface and talk to MiM to maybe clarify some things; I think it would be for the best." At this the shadow scoffed.
"What; so he can take away my hold and choose another one for my place or begin something else equally irrational?" She came closer with her small hands wrapped around one another in nerves, not in fear of him but out of the fear of how her proposition would work out and if it could.
"If you could just talk to him the way you two used to, something good could come out of it; you'll never get back the power you once had but maybe we could come to a truce after all, so that what happened to you never happens to anyone else ever again…"
"Don't think for one millisecond that I don't remember your distinct right hook Miss Tooth and your involvement in my imprisonment." He turned away then to walk a few paces until he turned back to them to add another comment.
"Besides, it was his decision to stop talking to me ages ago why would he just up and change it now, what could I possibly have that he might want now?" Jack found surprise in this more than the others, unable to control his outrage and jealousy.
"Wait, how often did he used to talk to you anyway?" Pitch thrived in the envy and almost danced with it with his chest proudly puffed forward, walking to half circle around them, taunting in his voice.
"Oh believe me it was often, twice a day easily." They all then let out their own gasps of disbelief and astonishment and tried to come to a sort of reasoning as to why The Man in the Moon would have any sort of reason to talk to, and possibly even be affiliated with, someone like Pitch.
"What in the name of Easter Island did you two even talk about anyway?" The shade turned thoughtful then, slightly pleased at the effect his words had on them. It was a fine reminder that he was and always will be a bit special and unique in many cases regarding MiM; even though now the man only treated him with indifference.
"Oh all sorts of subjects, some days certain conversations would last longer, one lasted a year itself; it had something to do with snow flakes of all things, which then spiraled into a debate on politics of course and then moral ambiguities and flower petals and then moon rotations and how it effects wave lengths, etcetera. But on some days we would only speak in greetings and in goodbyes and even goodnights; but often we'd sit in silence together to keep one another company or like in the dawn when I would walk with him as the sun rose on the lakes and mountains and all around until other work had to be done. Then one day he just stopped; coincidentally this was around the time that he started to create you spirits of winter, spring, fall, and summer. I guess he just didn't have time for me anymore…" In his words echoed the pangs of sadness at the reminder of his loss awoke the longing he had for a friend to fight away his loneliness on those terrible nights when all he had was himself. It was strange for them to be witnessing the confession of weakness from a man like Pitch, something not to be thrown away but remembered; but they knew that the only real reason why Pitch would say something like that now would be because he had nothing else to loose and had forgotten his normal formalities. Toothiana pressed on, curious still for answers despite the light kindness in her voice.
"Did you try to talk to him?"
"Yes. Many times. But he never answered me. And then came the war of course, but you all know how that ended." With that North gave a small snort.
"Which one?" A gust air left the shadow's lungs and he gave away a clip of a smile at the former thief, appreciative of the darkness of his humor.
"My thoughts exactly." With that he dove down into the blackness of his shaded cell of the underground swimming in it and twisting spirals as he then reappeared on a ledge opposite, and to their dismay at the change he simply stretched as an explanation of the sudden move. He sat and thought for a bit, silent without a smile on his lips nor a furrow on his brow, calculating pros and cons until his half golden eyes found their purchase on them again; looking as though he had tasted something sour and was unpleased with whatever results he had come to.
"Perhaps…" He shook his head to forget his train of thought until he was satisfied enough that it was gone before dipping down until he returned to their level, but as always he remained taller than most of them and lowered his eyes towards them. When he spoke it wasn't with malice or torment but out of something more tame and honest; not out of his usual mocking but out of a wrinkled forehead of curiosity.
"Does he never talk to any of you?" They looked around at one another until slowly they gave their own answers.
"The last time was when he chose Jack for Guardian, and now for you…"
"All he did was tell me my name."
"He asked me about my fairies, to check up on them."
"He asked to borrow one of my time machines not too long ago and told me how sorry he was about Easter... When he returned it I wasn't there and he left a note sayin 'thanks'." Jack turned then to the furry Pooka as he wordlessly mouthed with exclamation: 'YOU HAVE A TIME MACHINE?!'. Bunnymund waved him off and centered his sights again on Pitch, who seemed both confused and cautious as he, but looked towards Sanderson for some form of communication and was only rewarded with a dejected shrug and dispirited eyes. Pitch then walked a few paces away and subconsciously or after a long lost habit; looked to where the sky and the stars and the moon would be as he pondered. He murmured with reservation and prying eyes at the ceiling of his chamber, deducing his former friend without ease in his head.
"What are you up to old friend?" He bit his tongue and upon the pressure of his inked blood he sighed and cast his eyes on the stone floor of his desecrated kingdom of lightlessness, mulling over the thought that kept pestering him. His mouth found the words he would most likely wish that he'd never said, but he spoke them anyway.
"Perhaps… it is time we talked…"