Mend
Finite
Pitch drifted in the darkness, eyes locked onto the barriers before him. The Guardians called for him, he could hear it on the fleeting shadows around them. They had been searching for a while, yet Pitch deigned not to deal with them. No, the curving words written into the barriers commanded his attention, thus he focused with a profound excitement. He had gone over the words time and time again, but still one line worried him. Would it work the same way given a different situation? Questions, questions- He did not dwell on it for much longer. He was wasting energy, but it was inconsequential at this point, and he used it as freely as he wished. This was his personal world, and he was overjoyed at the near boundlessness which existed here, but it was inevitable that he'd have to leave, as he could feel an encroaching urge to shut the Guardians up. With a low grumble, Pitch stood, and with a tug he opened a pathway to his room. North shuddered violently, the sudden surprise had left him a ghostly white. Pitch stood before him with a look of sheer annoyance. Though deeply unsettled, North sighed in relief.
"Oh, thank the moon. We've been looking all over for you," North said, the somber attitude he'd had earlier dissolved upon seeing the fear spirit.
Pitch ignored him and hobbled to the chair.
"Where were you? We became worried after you were not in your room for breakfast," North continued, discontent at being ignored.
"I was in the void" Pitch responded, his voice tired and gruff from disuse.
"The void?"
"Yes, try as you might, I cannot be separated from the shadows, at least not completely"
"So the void is what you call it when you enter the darkness…?"North muttered quietly.
If Pitch were not so drained from using his power, he would have risen and smacked the oaf of a Guardian.
"One moment, let me inform the others. Please don't leave." North called, as he started to make a path to the door.
Pitch waited until he could no longer hear North in the hall before he stood and began to search his room. He needed a tool so that he could test the stringency of the protection that the barriers provided. He had only begun searching the closet when the Guardians arrived. He turned slightly, acknowledging their presence, and stopped searching.
"Well? Say something." Pitch muttered. Why did they constantly feel fit to just watch him, he wondered. Aster gave him a cool look, and Jack finally spoke up, "Why were you hiding from us?"
He muttered, his heart still raced, what would have happened if he had escaped? Jack did not think he could fathom the consequences. Pitch frowned and got to his feet.
"I was not hiding; I simply did not desire to deal with you all." Pitch responded. He was wasting time, and he quite badly wanted to begin testing the barriers.
"Why are you so- annoying?" Jack said. Frankly he had grown tired of Pitch's belligerence. North had asked them all to be nice, but it was quite difficult when the person he had to be nice to was just so…infuriating.
"We're trying to help you get better; we aren't trying to harm you. Even if you think this is some dream, you shouldn't act like none of this matters."
A scowl crossed Pitch's face, foolish, presumptuous Guardians. Something hot coiled in him, igniting a fire which had been covered until now.
"I did not ask you to be brought here, nor did I ask you to extend your 'kindness' to me. I am captive here by you will, and this is not my home, you are not my equivalents and I am severed from my power. So while you think you may be helping, you have hardly done anything save invoking my ire," he had shrunk back a bit, but Tooth seemed very displeased.
"Regardless of the fact that we brought you here against your will, you're still here. Instead of complaining about your situation, do something to change it. Becoming angry at us will not make it any easier for you," She said did not respond, he did not need to be lectured by a Guardian. His legs were beginning to hurt from standing, and he wandered to his chair and sat.
"What was it that you wanted, little Guardians? You would not have searched to hard if it were not so Pitch said after a time.
"It doesn't matter now, it is already over. We'll have to try again another time." Sanderson signed, he looked disappointed, but Pitch couldn't care less.
"Very well then, You should take your leave." Pitch suggested with a casual flick of his wrist. This had taken far longer than he'd anticipated.
The Guardians looked confused, but filled out without complaint. All save North whom waited at the doorway until the others had passed.
"Do you still believe this is a dream?" North Whispered, aware that Pitch could hear him.
"Yes, everything that has happened in this dream has happened before in others, though perhaps not in the same order." Pitch responded. He peered at North, curiosity evident in golden eyes. North held his hands nervously. "Well, whether this is all a dream in your head or not, children are still getting hurt. Eventually, we will need your help in stopping it."
Pitch cocked his head, "Why? Why must I help save children?"
"They have stopped believing-"
"So? That's good for me, you get weaker, and I have no need for belief." The fear spirit interrupted.
"Pitch, would you just listen? Since you've been gone, Nightmares have run rampant. Not only have they stopped children from believing, but their presence has even made an impact on the adults."
A stunned silence filled the space. Traitorous mares, Pitch thought. Still, this was just a dream, right? Quietly, Pitch responded, "What makes you think I will help, I am your enemy."
"Were, you were our enemy. Though you may have made poor choices before, I know you will make the right choice in time."
North stepped out, his fingers lingered on the door knob, and he wondered whether he had misspoken. But it was the truth; people could change, so maybe spirits could too?
.- .- .- -.- .
Fools the lot of them, Pitch thought as he stood to continue where he'd left off. Kind words and false purpose did not dissolve their differences. Enemies or not, Pitch survived on the fear and misery of people, not their belief. He would not be part of something so parallel to his existence. Even if he could, his world did not consist of sunshine and rainbows, he would not be resigned to such naiveté. He left in search of a tool. His mind worked to tell him that it was all a dream, a nagging suspicion formed on the side. He pushed the notion down. He'd find out soon enough, as Pitch finally locked eyes with the item he'd been searching for. He pulled the scissors close, they were dusty from disuse but they would do. Pitch hummed appreciatively, and left for his room.
The Guardians looked confused.
Edited 6-27-2016
