Pitch smirked and slowly entered the room. "Hello, there." He said, testing the waters. She could see him, at least he was almost certain she could. She'd reacted to his presence and it had been so long since anyone had looked at him rather then through him.
She shrank back when approached and his smirk widened. Oh yes. She could see him. Though he couldn't help noticing one this. "Aren't you a little old to believe in the boogeyman?"
He watched, more then a little amused, as he could see the gears working in her head as she tried to work through what he'd said. She wouldn't get it. He knew that, but it was no less funny watching her try to figure it out.
"B-Boogeyman?" She asked, barely managing above a whimper. When he didn't answer she seemed to work up enough courage to speak. "I-...I don't- Whatever you want just... just take it."
Pitch couldn't help it. He threw his head back and laughed. A horrid sound. Deep and distorted that did nothing to hide his malicious intent.
The woman pulled the covers up tighter around herself and whimpered. "Just... please don't..."
"What?" He asked, prowling around the bed. Moving ever so slowly closer to his prey. "Hurt you?"
This seemed to break her free of whatever rooted her to the spot, it only for a moment. She scrambled to put more distance between them but once again came froze when her back met the headboard.
"Is that what you're afraid of?" He moved closer still, reveling in the fear in her eyes. It had been so long since he'd seen fear like this, like a nightmare realized, and even longer since he'd been the cause of it. Since the Guardians had turned his out Night-Mares against him. Safe to say he had left Sanderson's dream sands alone since then not wanting to do anything that would being the Sandman or any of the other Guardians down on his head. He'd been laying low since then, only truly appearing in places where fear already exists. It was that fear that drew him here. He had expected to find a child frightened of the shadows in the closet or the creaking from the end of the hall that could be nothing or the footsteps of some otherworldly beast. Instead what he found was so much more interesting. A grown woman who apparently still believed in the Boogeyman. "That I'll hurt you?"
"Th-then what do you want?" She asked, unable to take her eyes from his. "If you're not-"
"Who said I'm not," He interrupted suddenly standing right at her bed side. "Going to hurt you?"
Tears began to well up in her eyes as she tried to move away from him scooting closer to the edge of the bed. She could run, or scream, but neither would do her any good. She was conflicted. Unsure of the reality of her situation. This wasn't his first time dealing with adults. During the dark-ages, perhaps the greatest time to be an agent of fear, he hadn't been limited to children. Everyone feared the Boogeyman though adults were always harder to convince. They were more prone to rational them children. Where a child by now would have run to their parents claiming monsters and shadow creatures she was much more hesitant to bring his presence to the attention of others. His appearance, shrouded in shadow as it was, had her questioning whether or not her companion was human but she didn't want to entertain the thought that he was anything but a burglar. Poor dear.
Fresca stared into the inhuman eyes of the man before her. He'd briefly stepped into the moonlight when he'd moved around her bed, giving her a quick glimpse of what he looked like under the shadows he seemed to draw in. He looked... Alien. His features mostly human but so sharp an exaggerated. Cat like? But it was his eyes that got her. Those bright yellow eyes that continued to shine even when he'd moved back into the shadows. Even his movements were surreal. He seemed to flow through the shadows, becoming apart of them, before suddenly becoming harshly real in the light.
Entertaining the thought that what faced her was anything but human seemed absurd but to so did thinking that thing was ever human to start. She tried again to move away but now had nowhere to go between the edge of the head board, irrational in her fear that getting out of bed my prompt this man, this thing, to attack.
"This... Is a dream..." She muttered quietly to herself, though in the still on the room he didn't have to strain to hear. "I'm dreaming..."
Instantly she regretted saying anything. A wide, malicious grin, split his face revealing a mouthful of sharp jagged teeth that chased away any remaining idea of his humanity. She shrank back and his eyes seemed to glow brighter, glittering in the moonlight and with their own light. "Oh, my dear." He said, and when he leaned in she thought her heart would explode. "This is a Nightmare." Then he laughed. A horrible sound that sent a chill up her sound and echoed off the walls. It was so loud she wondered how it wasn't waking up her sister and niece. Fresca screwed her eyes shut and curled up into a tighter ball trying to block it out. Several long moments passed and last of the echoing laughter died down and the room went dead silent.
She listened. For anything. For the sound of movement. Foot steps, shuffling... breathing. Anything. But she heard nothing. Slowly. Cautiously, she cracked and eye. Nothing. Fresca sat a little straighter and looked around, scanning the darkest corners of her room for the creature that had just faced her. Nothing. She was alone.
