I... I've got nothing. Nope. No excuses, no reason, this chapter is just exceptionally late. My apologies. But it's about twice as long as the rest, so... Does that help? Lemme know in the reviews! Tell your friends about this fanfic too! Please?
Pitch stood on the Atlantic coast of the United States, staring out into the ocean. His nightmares were tamed enough that they could do their job without supervision, and so he used that time to...
A sigh left the shade- What was he even doing out here? Pitch exhaled as his intention resurfaced. Right, he had come to take his mind off of Iago, and the fear that he had sensed from the shifter. How well was that working out for him, again?
Golden eyes gleamed suddenly, Pitch lashing his hand to the side in anger. After all these centuries of not caring for a single soul but his own why now was he making himself miserable worrying for some child?
However, as the dark night roiled overhead Pitch couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to the child.
Pitch could not help but wonder where the young shapeshifter was…most likely the child had fled far from the town, if the boy was as frightened as he had been in the Norwegian village when Pitch had raved.
'Bet he is terrified out there alone…'
Pitch grit his teeth at the stray thought now pulsing in his mind. With a low growl the shade stormed back into town, furious for such petty emotions. Since when had the mighty Nightmare King cared about the welfare of any child? He was the Lord of Fear, for Hades sake! Pitch Black did not concern himself with the safety of children.
The shade continued to try and convince himself of that as he strode down the quaint street, watching his nightmares work vigilantly.
See, that is exactly why he worked best alone…away from others. He could concentrate on invoking beautiful terror, not worry anout stupid children... that were broken ...and needed to be healed…
Ugh! There his brain went again!
A low curse left the shade, he quickly tried thinking of something else. Which, of course, was not hard since Pitch could feel the fears of humans leaking from every nook and cranny, every door and window, like a sickly plague. The waves swelled over him like crashing ocean waves, so intense was the onslaught the shade could almost see the dark aura of the fear now coming to his body.
Pitch was growing powerful once more. Not nearly as powerful as he had once been mind you, but definitely growing closer at a far faster rate than what he had expected. He did not need to concern himself with children...
Yet...
Pitch found himself unnecessarily waking children from their nightmares at random intervals, letting his shadow creep around their rooms, or standing in the dark corners with nothing but his piercing yellow eyes visible. The children cried and wailed and ran to their parents... But where it once had given him great pleasure, just a short while ago... Now it wasn't the same...
Same as what? What was he missing!? For the life of him the spirit couldn't place it…that or he was simply trying to avoid the reason he knew…
So in order to fill the void, Pitch had taken it a step further, doing something he would never have tried a few short weeks ago…allowing his nightmares to penetrate the minds of adults.
He would send his nightmare in with a mission: Find what was on the adult's mind and report it to Pitch at once. Then, he would wander about the house, planning how to immolate that fear in the waking world...
CRASH! Nightmares of burglars? Let's open the door and knock over this table.
Nightmares of fires? Let's set the smoke alarm off.
Nightmares of bats? Let's- oh wait, you actually have a bat infestation. Okay then, let's set them free in your kitchen.
The fears of full grown adults swelled over Pitch in a way that the fear of children never had! Children's fears were most of the time irrational…slime monster in the bathtub, rug bugs that might eat their toes…adults, however, their fears were based in reality so evoking them brought such a level of fear that Pitch could feel himself becoming intoxicated by them…however the shade couldn't bring himself to stop.
Pitch could stand right behind the terrified wife who cowered behind her outraged, defensive husband . He could whisper in her ear, "There he goes, over the fence. Hear the dog? That's him, running down the street. Call the cops, chase him, chase the figment of your imagination." Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, stood in the shadows, glaring out windows to the flashing red and blue lights, enticing the broad, strong police men into an all-night chase of shadows and delusions.
Pitch Black, Lord of Shadows, brought chaos down on the small coastal towns, leaving confusion and panic in his wake. Darkness and fear followed his footsteps, and Pitch Black the Boogeyman grew stronger.
Yet, even with all the power... Pitch Black did not feel any better.
Shaking his head, Pitch held his temples and sighed. "Maybe some old fashioned nightmares will raise my spirits."
So, with that intention in mind, Pitch strode through a nearby shadow to the nearest child essence he could sense in a near-by apartment, before pausing to take in this odd spectacle.
In a bare room stood two beds. One bed was covered in faded pink sheets and a small, dingy teddy bear sat upon the small, thin purple pillow. This bed was unoccupied. However, across the room stood an identical bed, this one covered in plain white sheets and such. In this bed, a small little girl laid atop the blankets, shivering in her sleep and snuggling a shirt to her tiny chest.
As puzzled by this spectacle as Pitch was, he did not think to question it until he tainted her golden dream.
Her nightmare was one of his own horses, which trotted right up to her and bared its teeth. The girl yelped and backed away, but was trapped against a wall. As the horse approached, it morphed slowly into another person, blurry and unrecognizable, who reached out to her. She cried out in delight, running towards them, only for the person to strike a hand across her face-
Before he was aware of moving Pitch grasped the figure by the throat, threw it at the wall before he knew what he was thinking, where it exploded into a shower of dust before he knew he had acted.
The girl squeaked into waking, startled by the abrupt yank on her conscious.
The two stared at each other, the girl taking him in slowly as the haze of sleep faded from her eyes.
"Boogeyman..." She whispered the name, almost as if tasting it.
Confused under her critical eye, Pitch clasped his hands behind him and narrowed his golden eyes. As she sat up, Pitch approached the bed she rested on, over the tiny child who did not so much as flinch.
"You believe in me?" Pitch raised a brow. He was not surprised, really. He had only been getting better and better as the weeks went on. More and more children had begun to believe in the Nightmare King.
This girl nodded firmly. "You're what stopped me from walking into the road before checking it was safe."
Pitch didn't feel like arguing that her scenario was more in the common sense department.
"And you're why Momma locks all the doors and windows before she goes to bed."
That was more paranoia than him...
"You're a good man."
Pitch felt his chest clench, a knot forming in his stomach. Never before had he felt so confused and tired... A good man? Maybe once, a time ago, before… now his only motive for moving was defeating those blasted Guardians, and defying the Man in Moon.
The shade sighed, for he had often wondered where the man he once had been was, the better one? He had fallen, no matter how many times he rose again. Where was his motive to return? There was none, just the overwhelming desire to destroy what had taken his power from him.
A rumble echoed in his throat- No, that man was gone! Snuffed out by thousands of years of loneliness and heartache! No he would never return… only the Boogeyman would rise again, Master and Player of Fears...
And yet even as he tried to convince himself Pitch was so sure… Hell, he couldn't even stomach the thought of tormenting this girl. Life and Reality would do that to her. Eventually, the ties of innocence would fall off, and that in itself would bring fear.
"I'm sorry, child." He sighed. "I will let you rest easy now." He picked up the girl and put her in the bland bed, covering her tiny body with the threadbare sheets and giving her the shirt she had snuggled into. The little child eagerly accepted the article of clothing and wiggled into a tight ball, drifting off to sleep.
After a long, quiet sigh, Pitch slid through a shadow.
He stared up at the moon for a moment, outside of town. He felt no joy once so ever from the fact that his shadow walking was getting better with each passing day.
"What is wrong with me?" He whispered. "Why should I wait that long, I don't understand, I just left that perfectly good fear alone!" A fury swept over him, an unstoppable tide of red rage. He felt every muscle tense at once, his teeth grinded together and his eyes clenched shut. The shadows literally sparked as Pitch tried to contain his unexplained anger-
Until Pitch fell to his knees screaming, not in anger, but in pain.
A wave of toxic, nauseating fear swelled over him, crashing into him like a sea bluff. It stole the breath from his lungs and the strength from his limbs. It burned through him like being held under in a tub of acid. His fingers clawed the earth beneath him, searching for stability and physical presence. He was drowning in this intense, powerful fear, that was all too familiar.
As he hissed in pain, nightmare sand erupted from the ash grey palms, lifting under him as the equine formed. It gave one sniff of the air, and instincts did the rest.
Pitch was in such great pain it was all he could do to hold on. The nightmare, urged forward by her thirst and her master's urgency, launched from the ground and galloped into the sky. They climbed and climbed until they passed over the shore, sailing into the clouds that boosted them with the insane winds.
Pitch had never gone this fast before, and he found his focus was constantly frozen on not falling off. The waves were naught but a blue black blur beneath him.
Pitch found that the pain in himself was lessening, despite the undeniable knowledge that the fear was doing anything but that. When he opened his eyes, he found them to be clear and focused-
On Sandman's biplane.
"Now of all the times!?" Pitch groaned, urging the equine around the golden contraption, but it was too late. They had been spotted. The sand plane made a quick turn around and began pursuit, but Pitch was angered and desperate, and the nightmare hungry and excited. The distance slowly grew between them, and as the nightmare nimbly twisted and turned through the clouds they were out of sight.
The damage was done, though. If the Guardians didn't know he was up and moving beforehand, they sure did now. But that was Pitch's second priority for the first time since those blasted Guardians had come around.
The journey that should have taken them hours took a mere few minutes in this furious pace, but even then Pitch felt he hadn't made it fast enough. The fear had fed him and filled him with renewed energy, but only now it was much, much worse. This was the fear for someone's life. Pitch let the nightmare follow the scent, the great beast leaping from rooftop to rooftop over a quaint town. As they flew, they enticed every nightmare, every fear, and every shadow to join the chase. They listened to their god's instruction intently- Do not attack. Wait.
"Hold on, Iago.." Were the only words whispered from the Nightmare King's lips as he and his nightmares raced to where the poor shifter's fear was pouring from.
The minute Iago had heard the voice of The Spirit of the Catch, a pang of fear had spiked through his soul. However, the shifter wasn't about to let Scanlon know that, since it would only encourage the animalistic spirit...
So instead of showing the terror that now gripped his heart, the boy whirled around and bounced backwards, smiling broadly at the Brothers of the Hunt.
"Olwydd! Scanlon! Orgeto! Hey guys!" Iago nodded at each brother in turn, still smiling, and clasped his hands behind him as if he were greeting good friends. "Man you guys are good; how did you find me so fast?"
The wolf brother stepped forward, his toothy grin proud under the crooked wolf head hood of his vest. "Olwydd out on hunt, smell monster boy instead. So Olwydd howl, say 'better prey', brothers come!" The Spirit of the Chase put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest in pride.
"Though Scanlon saw first!" The bear brother grunted, a snarl across his rough face.
"Olwydd saw with nose." The smaller boy tapped his nose with a smirk on his face. "Better than eye sight."
"Ha! Olwydd agree, he blind!" Orgeto slapped his knee and cackled. Scanlon joined him, laughing in deep chuckles.
"Olwydd find monster boy with blind luck!" Scanlon added, to which they laughed even louder, and Olwydd scowled.
Iago however turned to the wolf brother, a smile of praise on his face. "I should have known, nothing gets past your nose, Olwydd." He glanced at the other brother, "And Scanlon, I say, your stalking has greatly improved!" Iago played along, hoping to entice one of their infamous arguments...
Immediately, both mentioned brothers lightened, the wolf's pride returning as he boasted "Monster boy right. Olwydd best tracker in whole Realm!"
Scanlon snorted in response. "So? Any person smell, not any person, not any animal, stalk better than Scanlon!"
Orgeto chuckled. "Scanlon stalk worse than hydra."
Olwydd barked out laughing, holding his sides and doubling over as Scanlon grew furious.
"What say, tiny kit!?" Now Orgeto was mad, the brother straightened his shoulders and glowered at his bear brother.
"Orgeto say hydra stalk better than Scanlon!"
And with that statement the skins that hung like cloaks on their backs melted on their owners, a bear and cougar now clawing and biting and roaring at each other. Meanwhile, the wolf brother was simply rolling on the ground, laughing hysterically at the fact that his brothers were at each other's throats.
So it was just a case of bad luck that the wolf brother glanced up when he did and not two seconds later, for if he had looked then the boy would be gone. But as luck would have it, the Spirit of the Chase noticed a barely formed dog running down the street.
"HEY! HEYHEYHEY!" Olwydd shouted desperately, his brothers pausing mid bite to stare in bewilderment. "MONSTER BOY GETTING AWAY!"
As one the trio lunged after the shapeshifter.
"Not far!" The mountain lion yowled to his brothers. "Oregto faster, cut off monster boy!" And the feline surged forward, leaving the two others behind.
The wolf nodded, yipping "Olwydd lead Scanlon, track scent!"
"Scanlon have own nose, track scent." The bear grumbled as it galloped after the trotting canine.
Iago, meanwhile, was trying his hardest to keep his canine shape still as fear flooded his veins in the very adrenaline that was saving him. The black sheepdog sped around a corner, dashing through a narrow alley. He purposely splashed in every puddle, hoping it was enough to throw off his scent, but it was no use. Scanlon the bear had spotted him already, and was gaining on him. Iago bounded across the next street to another alley a little ways down, but just before he turned into it, the unmistakable mountain lion rounded the corner on the other side.
Yelping, the black dog turned sharply away from the daunting tunnel of brick and concrete, and back to the road.
Further down, the slender form of the wolf appeared around the block and began dashing towards him.
With only one alley left to turn in, Iago fled down the passage, glancing over his shoulder to see the three brothers charging after him. To his surprise they began slowing down!...Maybe their squabble earlier had injured them in some way…
Iago turned around to lope even faster, but ended up skidding across the ground to a wrenching halt. His mind could not fathom what stood before him, for it was by far the most terrible thing Iago had seen in his entire afterlife, perhaps because it was so unexpected at such a time of hope.
Iago could not contain his fear any longer, and his body shuddered from shape to shape as terror took over. Iago was in shock. How could this happen to him!? After his first taste of life, only to have it wrenched away... Iago could not remove his gaze from the thing that had single handedly stole his hope, his freedom, and quite possibly his life- a cold, empty, sharp, imposing... Brick wall.
Iago shook violently… he was trapped.
Cold chuckles and cackles echoed down the brick alley, the shadows of the brothers merging together to cast the boy in darkness. The breath sliced at his lungs, and he slowly turned to his captors. 'Quick, something big and, and impressive and, and, and...' Iago couldn't focus, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The world was turned against him, beating him down, crushing him, imprisoning him in a torture of hate and hurt.
The three brothers had re-humanized, and were striding towards him like a trio of hyenas. Scanlon reached into a pouch on his belt and retrieved-
Shackles. Those were shackles. And that was a...a collar. A brand new, gleaming collar.
"Just for monster boy." Scanlon grinned, shaking the collar back and forth before him.
"P-please..." Iago trembled, crouching against the wall with his hands... Paws... Wings... Over his ears. "Not like this..."
A trace of Pitch's own fear mingled with the nauseating swells of Iago's as the shapeshifter's terror came to a sudden halt. The nightmare beneath Pitch slowed to a stop atop a roof, her nose swinging back and forth as she tasted the air for their quarry.
Cold, cruel laughter drifted to Pitch's ear, the horse and the spirit snapping their gazes in the direction of the voices.
Taking a breath, the shade spurred his steed forward, the equine leaping across the street to another store roof. Dismounting, Pitch crept to the far edge of the building and glanced over the side. What he saw beneath him made his blood boil.
A huge man with a bear skin over his broad shoulders held a captive Iago by the back of his shirt, since the child had abandoned his cloak in escaping a non-angry Pitch.
In front of him, a scrawny man in a wolf pelt locked cuffs over the boy's wrists, and off to one side another man in a cougar hide watched in mild amusement.
Iago, meanwhile, thrashed wildly in attempt to escape, kicking the wolf boy in the stomach with shackled legs. Though it clearly did not hurt the captor, Iago still found himself back handed, his head snapping to one side.
"Hold still, tiny monster boy!" The wolf brother growled, to which the others chuckled coldly.
"Have issues, Olwydd?" The cougar boy purred.
Pitch narrowed his eyes at the name…Olwydd…he knew that name…
"No, Orgeto!" The wolf brother-Olwydd- snarled. "Fine. Prey weak, small. No hurt Olwydd."
A gasp left the shade at the other boy's name…now he was sure he knew the two spirits below…and if the other was who he thought, then it was no wonder Iago was drowning in fear.
"Then why hurt monster boy? Master say chase, catch, no kill." The bear grumbled.
"One swipe not hurt monster boy, Scanlon. Olwydd only scare."
Pitch bit the inside of his lip, why in the gods did it have to be these three?
Olwydd, Scanlon, and Orgeto were legend for two things and two things only: Disappearing, and causing disappearances. They had once roamed free and hunted in celebration of the moon cycles and the changing seasons. But early on in their existence, they had vanished from the Spirit Realm. Simply gone, without a trace, and now Pitch knew why- They had been enslaved, just as Iago had been, and had forgotten their initial purpose, just as...
Pitch didn't like the sudden similarities he began to see, shaking them off like-
"No! Nonono NO!"
A sudden cry from Iago suddenly caused such a surge of fear to erupt that Pitch had to stifle a cry of pain.
"Not again, n-n-not like this! Olwydd, p-p-pah-please!" the small shifter was Iago thrashing and kicking wildly as the Spirit of the Chase approached him- with a collar.
Before Pitch even knew what he was seeing, black sand had begun to pour from his palms, sliding down the wall like water with a soft hissing sound.
"Stay, monster boy! Why make hard!?" The wolf was growling, trying to deflect the punches and kicks. The other brothers, meanwhile, had noticed the noise, but not it's creator.
Iago was, well... Panicking.
"Olwydd..." The cougar boy hissed, glancing down the alley to the street, eyes full of worry. However, his brother didn't hear him. "Olwydd!" He tried again, his hackles rising, but still no response. He turned to Scanlon who nodded once.
"OLWYDD!" He roared, giving the canine such a scare that he toppled backwards. The grounded brother was about to shout back when Scanlon put a finger to his lips. "Listen. What noise?"
Snarling, the wolf hood cocked as Olwydd obeyed.
"Sound like noisy nope rope.*" Orgeto pondered, to which Olwydd snorted.
"Bah, too loud for noisy nope rope."
By now the sand had begun to pile up at the bottom of the walls, and the yellow eyes of nightmares began to light up like lost lanterns.
"Looksies!" Scanlon whimpered, pointing with his free hand to a cluster.
Everyone, Iago included turned to look at the nightmares as they rose from the sand, massive stallions that stamped their huge hooves and tossed their long heads. They whinnied shrilly and pawed the ground with impatience, baring their teeth and rearing with excitement.
Everyone was frozen in some fashion.
Pitch had frozen to his spot in rage, a deep, churning, seething rage that he had not known he could possess.
Iago was frozen in shock and surprise, disbelief and relief in his gaze as he gawked at the approaching beasts with awe.
The Hunt Brothers, however, were frozen in fear. The coldest of fears, the ones you least expected, where your blood seemed to freeze and your heart a chunk of useless, heavy ice.
Orgeto snapped out of it first in one word: "RUN!"
The three Skin-Shifters bounded towards the road as one, with Iago still clasped tightly in the bear's hands, breaking Pitch out of his trance. Before Pitch could think he had acted, and with a wave of his arm the sand swept in front of them, solidifying as it landed into more nightmares.
The trio yelped, sliding to a stop.
Desperation turned The Lord of Fear's blood from icy rage to a fiery fury, and he marched through the shadows down to the alley. Summoning his largest, most imposing horse under him, Pitch brought out his brand new scythe and brandished it wildly.
The air sung with the swipe of the massive blade, the entire weapon somehow emitting a dark light. At the first note of air over steel, the Hunt Brothers rounded on their heels to behold the most furious Nightmare King that had ever been witnessed. The nightmares pranced and stalked around the group, slowly getting closer and closer.
"Listen here!" Pitch began, but stopped short at the sound of his own voice. It was... Different, somehow. It felt like instead of words, he had spoken strands of silver silk, edged with cold steel and embroidered with power and ferocity. His voice echoed from every corner of the alley, as if every shadow spoke his voice. The very atmosphere rippled as he spoke, like he could pull on their heartstrings just by talking. And the fear that poured to him from the three Skin-Shifters was exhilarating. They had even dropped Iago, who seemed to be in shock. So he continued.
"That boy belongs to ME!"
The shadows throbbed in time with his crescendos and thrashed with his movement, the horse trotting forward with the scythe's massive blade at his side.
"If I ever catch you messing with MY shapeshifter AGAIN, I will personally feed you to my army, limb BY limb!" The blade punctuated his threat with a surge of light that sizzled like lightning, and he waved the weapon around them to his nightmares who whinnied in delight.
"Run home, DOGS, and tell your master that this boy is BLOOD bonded to ME, and if he wants him..."
Here Pitch snarled, his golden eyes ablaze, and raised the scythe to a fighting stance.
"Come and get him."
At his final words, the nightmares cleared from behind them and lunged.
The skins melted to the humans, and a wolf, a bear, and a cougar darted towards the brightly lit street with their tails between their legs and a nightmare stampede right behind them. As they tumbled out of the alley, the solid forms dissipated and the sand swelled up like a wave. It toppled backwards with a crash, the sand splashing like water, swirling around a central point.
As the sand receded to the back of the alley, the three animals looked back just in time to see the golden eyes disappear behind the black grains, the powder melting into the shadows until not a trace of the Nightmare King and his shapeshifter remained.
The wolf turned back to his fellow beasts and whined, "Master no like this." The bear and cougar could do nothing but whimper in agreement.
Pitch had squeezed his eyes shut as they had traveled, not really thinking about where to go. The shadow realm was by no means relaxing, but it was like a second home to the shade, and right now... He needed the meager peace.
Pitch only exited because he knew that his passengers did not always fare well in the passage after long periods of time. So Pitch, with mild reluctance, quickly found a welcoming shadow and dragged them through it.
The shade emerged with a sigh, feeling Iago's body rise slightly in his arms as the boy gasped for fresh air. Pitch gently laid the child onto cold stone, then moved away as he glanced around their new surroundings.
To Pitch's surprise all too familiar rock formations met his gaze, winding stone stairs filling his vision. A tinge of excitement fluttered into his heart- he had brought them back to his lair. Pitch viewed this as a huge development for him considering... just a bit ago he could not even travel by the shadows.
His excitement abated immediately when he glanced over at Iago. A look of concern replaced excitement when he caught sight of the still child curled in himself, the shifter unresponsive aside from the slight rise of his chest.
"Child?" Pitch strode quickly over, his hands clenched nervously in front of his chest. Had he dawdled too long in the shadows? Maybe the Hunt Brothers had done something?
"Child, come on now, you're safe here." His voice had returned to normal, a random, useless detail that took up too much space in his concerned mind before he could shove it away.
Pitch could not kneel to the child, the uncertainty of his discovery filling him with... apprehension.
Finally, Iago made a sound, one tiny sound, and it somehow managed to relieve and pain the Lord of Fear at the same time.
Iago quietly sobbed.
His state of shock had broken and he was still very much frightened by the near return to his living hell. The last time a child's fear had meant so much, it was the fear of Jamie Bennett. That fear had been for another cause, and never reached.
This fear…the fear of Iago Deci, Spirit of Deception, had no benefit for Pitch, and was never wanted.
However, no matter how he didn't want the sensation, being a fear spirit, the shade instinctively drank the true terror still radiating from the boy. It was to Pitch like wine is to the first taste, where the first timer finds it revolting and questions its existence, yet guiltily returns for another sip.
If Pitch could not stop himself from drinking the fear, could he perhaps cap the bottle, so to speak? Could he calm the child?
"Iago." Pitch tried, gently yet firmly demanding the shapeshifter's attention.
It was given without question, the blue-grey eyes blurry with tears and unfocused with panic.
Pitch knelt to the boy, who flinched and whimpered, but did not flee. He could not, even if he wanted to with the shackles and cuffs around his ankles and wrists. But Pitch sensed he didn't have the mental capacity to fathom running at this point either.
"Iago. They're gone. You're safe here." He summoned his sand and let it slink along the ground towards the child.
The tiny spirit did nothing in response but continue his labored breathing and watch as the sand crept into the binds and picked the locks, the metal snapping open with a vicious clink.
Iago gently withdrew his now freed hands and feet, staring at them as if he had thought they would never move again. Honestly, he might have been right, but Pitch was not going to voice that.
Instead, the shade rose with the metal binds, glaring at them as if they possessed the audacity to apply themselves, and clutching the chains until his knuckles were white. His unfocused, narrowed gaze snapped back to the present as Iago whimpered, no longer frozen in his human state by the cuffs, and morphing rapidly.
Those eyes were turned to him with that fear.
Pitch had not earned this terror that he was given, and he wasn't going to take it.
Casually, Pitch tossed the silver bands over the stone railing, where they fell until they vanished into the darkness below.
"They're not going to get you here, Iago." Pitch spoke with a softness he had not known he possessed. Iago settled into his human state once more, tears streaming down his dirty face.
"Th-they were gonna t-take me back..." Iago whispered shakily, and their gazes locked.
Pitch shook his head, his expression one of an unusual kind of seriousness.
"Never again, little one."
There was a pause between them as Iago recovered himself, rising to an upright position and wiping his eyes with his sleeves, sniffling.
Then the clip clop of hooves broke the silence, the massive nightmare Pitch had ridden on trotting up behind him.
Iago glanced up and froze in awe and amazement. "Wow..." Iago sniffled once more before standing, his head tilted back to peer at the long muzzle of the beast.
Pitch turned as well, catching sight of the grey cloth held gently in the nightmare's teeth.
"Ah, yes, thank you Ebony." Pitch then stood, retrieving the riding cloak and opening it up for the little boy before him. "You kind of just left this here with me. So I decided to hang onto until..." Pitch shrugged lamely, concealing his relief when the boy scurried over to him.
"Th-thank you, M-mister Black."
On the outside, it would seem that Iago was thanking him for the immediate action as he gently took back his possession. But Pitch understood the deeper intention, and did not probe the subject further.
"It was no trouble at all, child."
The shapeshifter smiled up at him timidly before turning back to the beauty of a nightmare.
"C-can I pet it?" Pitch chuckled, nodding, and the tiny, shaking hand reached up to stroked the long muzzle.
"It's a beautiful nightmare, s-sir..."
*noisy nope rope- IF YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT THIS MEANS, YOU WILL GET... um... A Digital Cookie? A Digital Brownie? A Virtual Fistbump? Something. Just guess what a noisy nope rope. I'll give you a hint: Trash Pandas.
Who felt the feels? Lemme know! Till next time, SFo7D