AN: Boy am I curious to what you guys think of this chapter. I said that I would upload a new chapter last week and here it is, Shadowgraph Pt.3.
You ever just go into this autopilot mode where you just let your body and some other part of your mind take over and just write with no hesitation at all? Yeah, I basically went into this autopilot mode and wrote the whole thing, next thing I realize, it's 11pm. It's a small thing but the fact I finished this chapter before 12am was something I felt so proud of. It's just this weird thing, where I give myself a time limit to write as much as I could before 12am. Anyways, I went back to read what I wrote, and I couldn't help but say, "What the actual fuck? What did I take? Was it the coffee?". It was kind of surreal not gonna lie. To let your body and imagination take over as you write, whilst being aware and unaware at the same time.
Lot's of bad stuff happened too, nothing mind breaking or anything, but it's just me getting a shoulder cram or slipping every 3 seconds during PE (Not a joke), or just me dropping stuff or having stuff dropped onto me.
Anyways I've held you long enough. Let us get on with this chapter shall we?
Dream Cycle: Shadowgraph PT.3
He feels so tired, he couldn't bear it any longer.
Ever since Jaune had killed himself in that nightmare, he's been finding it hard to even get a single second of sleep. For three days and three nights, he was awake. Even when he was on the very brink of sleep, his body immediately jolts him awake, keeping him from his much-needed rest. It felt as though his body was rejecting it.
He sighs, staring at his bed.
He was hesitant to even lay down on the bed. What's the point? He couldn't sleep, his body kept rejecting it. Doubt circulated through his mind.
"And what if I…" he breathed shakily, "No! No, I ended it, I can't go back. It's over… it's over, I'm sure."
He sighs and once again, and lays in his bed for an unaccountable time and shuts his eyes gently, relaxing his entire body as he attempts to fall asleep.
He did not speak; he did not move, and he tried to not think.
There was only the sound of his ragged breathing and the ticking of the clock laying against the table near his bed. Minutes passed, and soon hours as he kept his body still and eyes shut.
He then felt it. That tiredness that you feel when you slip away from reality and enter the world within your mind. His touch with reality slowly being lost, he gave a tiny smile.
Fate had other plans.
His eyes snapped open, the feeling of something tapping against his chest jolting him awake.
'Damn it… I was so close,' He whined.
He quickly shuts his eyes once again to begin the process.
Once again, minutes passed. However, the following results this time disappointed the young Arc.
'Tch, guess I can't go to sleep anymore,' He thought, 'Might as well stand, no point in laying here now huh?'
He opens his eyes again. However, what greeted him was not the ceiling that belonged to his room. It was something that should never be there, something that was impossible to exist. And yet it did, staring down on him, its gaze never leaving.
It was a bloodshot, atrophied eyeball staring down at him, its edges, surrounded by lashes that had solidified, slimy and rubber-like blood hanging from it, swaying in the open space.
'What the hell?!'
Is what he would've said. But he couldn't, he tried to move his mouth; his entire body, but it didn't work.
Fear streamed through his body, worming its way into his mind. He desperately tried to move the rest of his body but still to no avail.
He felt paralysed.
'Move…' he yearned, 'MOVE!'
The weird blood began to sizzle and bubble, drooping down around him, covering his view of his bedroom. His eyes darted around him in fear.
'W-what's…'
*SQUELTCH*
The sudden sound of flesh opening up made him focus on the eye once again. Greeting him with a gory sight of the pupil of the bloodshot, atrophied eye suddenly splitting open, the flesh slowing separating, revealing something within the eye.
The sight was absolutely horrid. And the smell… it made him want to vomit. His eyes continue to shake as he kept his gaze on what the opened eye revealed.
A mangled ball of corpses, being hung by thick threads of what appeared to be blood vessels that had an insurmountable of hair and fur growing on it.
The corpse ball then slowly lowered itself down onto his chest.
'Move…' he cried silently, shutting his eyes to hide the sight of the corpse ball nearing him, 'Move!... MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!'
He kept his eyes shut tightly, never once opening it.
Nothing happened.
He kept his eye shut though, fear keeping them closed.
However, he couldn't feel anything on his chest, he couldn't hear the sound of the bubbling blood or smell the horrid stench from the corpse ball.
He opens his eyes slowly and gently. Only to be greeted with the sight of his bedroom ceiling, no eyeball, no blood, no horrible stench and no ball of corpses hanging from furry blood vessels.
'A hallucination huh?' he thought nervously, 'Heheh, of course it was! Why would an eyeball suddenly appear in my room? That's just impossible.'
He tried to move his body; however, it still did move an inch.
'W-why can't I move? Why can I only move my eyes?!' he cried, 'What's happening?!'
His eyes darted to his left, and then to his ceiling, before darting to his right. It was a mistake.
Standing by his bedside, was a naked rotten corpse staring at him, its eyes hollowed and mouth hung opened, revealing nothing but a pitch-black void.
He quickly looked away from it in fear and turned to his left. This time, there were five of the rotten corpses standing by his bedside.
In a last ditch attempt he looked up at the ceiling and founded a familiar face. Three in fact.
It was an amalgamated lump of flesh with the face of Gascoigne, Viola and Violet, the ones he saw in the dream.
"Ẅ̸͔͓͉͚̥́͌͜͜h̸̤́̓́̒͆͒́̀̆́̽̕͘͘͠ỳ̴̙̌̑̉̉͌̋̾̽̎̆̽͠?̸̭̮̊͝" The face belonging to Violet croaked.
"T̶̖͉̦͌͊͒ǫ̵̛͓̥̥̹͙̯̙͍̫̫̩͇̿̿̎̈́̍̎̐̎͐ǫ̸̙̹̱̳̟̝̯̥̪͚́̿̉̊͂͋̈́͛̏̉̀̒͝…ľ̶͖̣͝a̵̖̲̋̈́ẗ̴̡̩́͝ḙ̸̬̎͠." The face belonging Viola moaned.
"W̷̭͛h̵̻͠ý̸̤ ̸̰͌d̶͈̔ḯ̷̹d̴̞͛ ̵̱́y̷̱̍o̵̰͗ũ̵͍ ̴͓̑ǩ̷̫i̴̟͝l̴͈̉l̵̻͛ ̶̥̿ṃ̸͝ḛ̶́?̸̤̿" asked the face of Gascoigne.
'W-what?' Jaune cried lightly.
"W̷̖̅h̸̖͐y̴̰͝?̷̱̈" the three faces repeated.
"W̷̖̅h̸̖͐y̴̰͝?̷̱̈ W̷̖̅h̸̖͐y̴̰͝?̷̱̈ W̸̝̓h̴̫̩͛y̸̬̎̓͐?̴̝̆͛!̵̞͉̠͐̊ W̸̝̓h̴̫̩͛y̸̬̎̓͐?̴̝̆͛!̵̞͉̠͐̊ Ẉ̶͍̰͍̻̓͑̆h̶̛̼̮̲͚͛̈́̔̎ÿ̸̧̡̻̣̘̩̟̙͚̓̿̉̓͆̽͘ͅ?̸̪̒̔̓̍͊͑̒̒!̶̙̪̺̲̬̓̓̋"
""W̷̭͛h̵̻͠ý̸̤ ̸̰͌d̶͈̔ḯ̷̹d̴̞͛ ̵̱́y̷̱̍o̵̰͗ũ̵͍ ̴͓̑ǩ̷̫i̴̟͝l̴͈̉l̵̻͛ ̶̥̿ṃ̸͝ḛ̶́?̸̤̿" Ẇ̶̜͈̜̫̔́h̶̢̧̧̢͔͙̲̭̬̪͉̣͉̼̯͎̹͔̳͇̗̤̭̑͌̏͒͐ÿ̴̛̬͚̯̯̹͇̗͕̘̮̮̰͈̞́̍̉́̎̽ͅ ̵̧̧̢̧̧̺͍̮̪̻̮̥͙͉̖̥̳̮̠̟̤̩̞̬͙̖̱̗̌͗ͅd̵̠̼̳͇͖̯̝̱̮̠̟̥̝͈̱͕͍̭͖̯̗͚͕͙͉̝̦̣̋̓̅̇ͅi̵̡̡͈͇̦̩̻̼͔̼͓̞͓̰͙͕̦̙̹͈̩͗͑̅͒̈̿́̋̊́̿̀̔̎d̸̢̧̨̢̢̫͖̟̩͔̮̦̯̮̣̱̯̙̬͍͙͈͚̺̹͈̟̹̖̤̖̣̺̻̫̫̈́̋͆̀͐ ̵̧̧̡̧͈̤̘̟̰̳̳͇̣̫̥̀̈́̈͂͒̋͘͘y̴̢̢̧̡̭͙̤̩̳̪̠̻̖̞̪̞̝͉̯̖͚͙̹͖̱̮͙̟̳͚̥̘͐̑̌̊̀́́̿̒͒̓̂͐̈́̈́̆̉̆̒̂̃̊̋̎͗̔̍̌̑͋͗͘͘͘̕͜͜͝͝͠ͅͅͅơ̷̡̧̨̰̺͔͓̣͕̠̩͎̗̗͙̺͙̝͖̖̟̥̬̠̝̞̠̪̩̥̬͈͚̬͙̱̠̙̿͋͑͌̐̋͐͛͋ų̷̧̡̖͉̭̪̥̬̥̖͍̰̗̫̱̫͙͓͍̘̰̮͙̳̥̤̲͓͔͒̇̊̿̃͂̈́̌ ̴̢̡̡̪̘̹̙͍̘̺̖̭͚̮͈̞̜̿̽̉́͋̓̓̐͐̄́̿͌̂͊̀̊͗̃͒̐̒͗́̒͋̀̏̍͋̊͘̚͠͝ͅk̷̨̛̟̖̹͚̝̣̺̭͔̼͙̗͍̩̬̥̣̩̼͈̼͉̘͇̦̎͗̽̋͂̇̀̋̾̐̉̌̈̎̔̅̓̌̒̓̔̋̓̕͠í̵̢̢̨̛͔̰̗͕̙̹̼͈̞̖͉̝̜̹̲̤̳͙͙̙̙̘̖͔̭̱̳̣̼̠̠̘͛̄̐̒̈́̂̋̏́̈́̐́̍̏̒̓̑̾̓͛̅̚̕̕̕͘͜͜ľ̵̨̡̧̻̝͈̠̯͓̤̝̮̼̘̰̺̹͎̖̬̹̪̠̻̼̼̭̳̺̮̙̫͖̎̔̍͋͐͑̓̈́̊̽̓͂̒͌͜͝l̴̢̨̡̡̨̺̳̞̤̗̘̞̜͙̤͚̹͍̗̺͔͉̳̳̪͚̼̣̮̮̹̥̖̦̞̙̘̓́̇̆̆̈́̑͘͜͜͜͜͜͠ͅ ̵̨̛͍̣̗̠̱̰̼̀̍̈̐͒̀̅̂m̴̨̧̡̧̨̢̡̰̮͖̯̖̟̬̫͉̥͍͔̦͈̖͖͎̹̫̯̰̫͔͓̻͎̬̜̗̗̞͖͖̟̲̲̫͒͊̀̌́̓́̄̏̎͒̄e̴̢̨̥̮̫̩̰̗̘̘̗͍̥̩̣͉͖̞̜͂́̀̿̔̔̓̊?̶̤͕̙̭̭̞̲̦͕͈̞̖͔͈̲͉͉̙̽̋̈́̑̃̇͋̇͗̂̈́͗̀̈̅̔͂͗̒̄̈́̀̒̌̀̋̑̎̎̕͘̕͘͝͝͠͝͝͠!̴̛̭̜̺͆́͆̓̆̽̌̾ W̷̤̱͇̪͆e̴̟̗͊̊ ̶͍̻͕̍̍ͅc̷̦͙̩̗̓͊̎ȍ̸̢́ư̸͚̪͊́ͅḷ̴̗͇̺͐͗̓d̵̡̡̺̬̓͒'̶̧͖́̄́͝v̷̢̟̾̊̓́ẻ̴̓͜ ̷̝̟̟̈́͋͋̎͜b̸̲̭̈́́́ẽ̵̦̹̤͎̎́͝e̶̠̖̝̰̐̿n̴̨̩̫͚̋͗͠ ̷̹́͒͐̚a̶̤̔̌͋ ̷̖͌͝h̷͕͔͓́͝a̵̦͙̚̕͜p̷̩͇̗̟͋p̸̢̃̒̊͑y̴̝͖̍ ̷͖̙̃̈͊̌f̸̦͔̭͙̋͑a̵̯͍͚͐̍͛m̴̢̻͒̌̀i̵̪̱̗̓̑̂l̵͇̂͒̐̚y̸͉̮̻̰͑̽͌͛!̷̨̗̖̑́̔͆!̵̡̪́͘!̸̖́̉͝"
"W̵̥͎̯̳̊̀h̷̡̦̼̣̿̎ỳ̴̢͉̓̑̏ ̷̭͂̋̈́ḋ̶̢̮͙̼̓i̴̙̰̱̩̇̊͗͒d̴͕̟̞͈́̽̄̈́ņ̷̺̊͑̔̚'̸̢̖̪͗t̵̩͉̀̈́̆͘ ̴͉͚̀͠y̶͙̔̉ö̸̰͘ư̵̛̳͈̑͝ ̴̢̳̳̖͛͊̔s̴̭̘͈͇͝a̸̧̨̪̒v̴̛̞͎͓͋̋̕e̶̻͆ ̴̳̰̤̈́̌̈́̃m̸͈̤̜̏̽̈́ė̸̺̜̯̑͘?̷̱̗̩̎̀͝!̵̮̜͆͑ W̷̖̅h̸̖͐y̴̰͝?̷̱̈ W̷̖̅h̸̖͐y̴̰͝?̷̱̈! W̷̖̅h̸̖͐y̴̰͝?̷̱̈!"
The corpses that stood by his bedside joined in. Chanting 'Why?' in unison with the fleshy amalgamation.
'Stop it…' He cried.
"W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈Ÿ̸̡́̓̀?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈"
'Stop it!'
"W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄Ÿ̸̡́̓?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ Ẅ̷͍͈͎́̑̄͘H̴̘̣̺̤͒̽̂͝ý̵̧̡̡̪̠́̍͠ ̶͓̲̣͈͙̮̟̓̆D̴̺̪̜̹̋̈́̀̾͂̅̋i̵̝͋͘̚D̷̦̼̪̭̲͎̙̗͐ ̴͖̽̎̓͒͆̕Y̸̢̘̦̻̖̼͍͖͒̈́́̌͋̉͋͘ ̶͚̖̪̉̓̾̐Ờ̸̮̓̋̽͝ ̷͍̆̂͝U̷̢̟̟͇̹̥̿k̷͎͖̀I̸̧̥̣̰̜̲̋̐̇͜͠ͅ ̴̩̘̱́͜l̸̖͎̣̺̄̒̂́̚̕͘͝ļ̵̛̞̣̻͊́̈́͐͑ͅ ̸̲͔̃̆̽̊̕̕ḫ̵̛̞͉̗̘̲̋͂̊͝I̶̛̟̯̯̱̝̅͜m̴̧͈̬̘̰̏̍̔͜ͅ?̸̡̗̱͙̫̌̃͌̅̂!̷̢͔̰̹̼̱͊̉͑̈́̿͐̕ͅ?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ Ỵ̴̨̢͎̳̻̲̪͒o̴̫̤̙̯͐̀̏͘͘͝ ̴̫̗̏̈́̅Ư̸̗͖̰̻̟͂̂́̾̓͘ ̴̥̾̂̑̚C̷̛̳̠̝̭̳͋̒͋̇̓͠O̶̟̼̠̣̦͎̖͛̀̈́͌͆͝ű̴̺̟͖̞̝́͝͝L̷̝̖̐͝d̴̞̥͗͗́̔͜"̸͖̜̻̗̳̯̰͚̀̏̔̃͆̂͝V̸͇̈́́̅̓͋̄͜é̵͚̖͗͗͐ ̸̨̢͕͇̘̪͎͗͊̊͋͠ͅS̶̥̘͕̫͝ā̴̛̺̮̖̙̀͗̈́̆̊v̷̧̹̼̓̓E̷̠̣͈̭͓̹̬̒D̶͉͚̱͉̓̊͌ ̴̻̩̎̉̈͜m̶̨̧̯̺͚͚̺̋̋͛̊͘E̴̛̛̬̤̼͊̓̄͛̐͝!̷̘̼͔̰̙̰̥̀͛͊̌͑͠ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ Ẅ̷͍͈͎́̑̄͘H̴̘̣̺̤͒̽̂͝ý̵̧̡̡̪̠́̍͠ ̶͓̲̣͈͙̮̟̓̆D̴̺̪̜̹̋̈́̀̾͂̅̋i̵̝͋͘̚D̷̦̼̪̭̲͎̙̗͐ ̴͖̽̎̓͒͆̕Y̸̢̘̦̻̖̼͍͖͒̈́́̌͋̉͋͘ ̶͚̖̪̉̓̾̐Ờ̸̮̓̋̽͝ ̷͍̆̂͝U̷̢̟̟͇̹̥̿k̷͎͖̀I̸̧̥̣̰̜̲̋̐̇͜͠ͅ ̴̩̘̱́͜l̸̖͎̣̺̄̒̂́̚̕͘͝ļ̵̛̞̣̻͊́̈́͐͑ͅ ̸̲͔̃̆̽̊̕̕ḫ̵̛̞͉̗̘̲̋͂̊͝I̶̛̟̯̯̱̝̅͜m̴̧͈̬̘̰̏̍̔͜ͅ?̸̡̗̱͙̫̌̃͌̅̂!̷̢͔̰̹̼̱͊̉͑̈́̿͐̕ͅ?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ Ỵ̴̨̢͎̳̻̲̪͒o̴̫̤̙̯͐̀̏͘͘͝ ̴̫̗̏̈́̅Ư̸̗͖̰̻̟͂̂́̾̓͘ ̴̥̾̂̑̚C̷̛̳̠̝̭̳͋̒͋̇̓͠O̶̟̼̠̣̦͎̖͛̀̈́͌͆͝ű̴̺̟͖̞̝́͝͝L̷̝̖̐͝d̴̞̥͗͗́̔͜"̸͖̜̻̗̳̯̰͚̀̏̔̃͆̂͝V̸͇̈́́̅̓͋̄͜é̵͚̖͗͗͐ ̸̨̢͕͇̘̪͎͗͊̊͋͠ͅS̶̥̘͕̫͝ā̴̛̺̮̖̙̀͗̈́̆̊v̷̧̹̼̓̓E̷̠̣͈̭͓̹̬̒D̶͉͚̱͉̓̊͌ ̴̻̩̎̉̈͜m̶̨̧̯̺͚͚̺̋̋͛̊͘E̴̛̛̬̤̼͊̓̄͛̐͝!̷̘̼͔̰̙̰̥̀͛͊̌͑͠?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ w̵̭͒͋̌̀̓́̈͋Ę̷͓̩͚̺̥͝͠ͅ ̷̪̝̩͔̼̞̠́͆̂̿͛̚͘͜C̸̱̞͛́̕ ̷̱̫͔̖̅O̶͕̭̰̯̪͍̎̀̃͆͜U̸͇̭̽̂̈́̀̕l̷͈͚̝̬̖̈́̿̇ ̷̡̼͍̏̔͗̔̂̈́͛̕D̸̘͖͆̋͌͑̕'̸̨̧̼̳͂̀̐̑̿̆V̵̝͉͉͕̭̹̹̣͋̃͑̆̕͠e̶͚̋́́́̅͘͘͝ ̸̠̓͋̽̒̕͝B̴͓̮͇̗̯͖̬̰̌̀̾͂͋̌͂È̵̢̛͈̾̏͒̕̕e̵̠͙̟̹̦͉̅̒̈̅̌͐͘͜͝Ń̷̡̳͈̈̓̒̿̽̕ ̸̖͚̳̚H̵̱̆̆͐̕ã̷̧͕͓̳͖͔͉͆͋͒́͝Ṕ̵̪͗̈́̔̈́̚͝p̴͉̰̣̝̼͋͐̓̾ẏ̴̦͓̘͕͍̍̐̋̃͒͂̃!̵̯̣̼͎͈̩̃͊̽̋͂̏͝͝ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ w̵̭͒͋̌̀̓́̈͋Ę̷͓̩͚̺̥͝͠ͅ ̷̪̝̩͔̼̞̠́͆̂̿͛̚͘͜C̸̱̞͛́̕ ̷̱̫͔̖̅O̶͕̭̰̯̪͍̎̀̃͆͜U̸͇̭̽̂̈́̀̕l̷͈͚̝̬̖̈́̿̇ ̷̡̼͍̏̔͗̔̂̈́͛̕D̸̘͖͆̋͌͑̕'̸̨̧̼̳͂̀̐̑̿̆V̵̝͉͉͕̭̹̹̣͋̃͑̆̕͠e̶͚̋́́́̅͘͘͝ ̸̠̓͋̽̒̕͝B̴͓̮͇̗̯͖̬̰̌̀̾͂͋̌͂È̵̢̛͈̾̏͒̕̕e̵̠͙̟̹̦͉̅̒̈̅̌͐͘͜͝Ń̷̡̳͈̈̓̒̿̽̕ ̸̖͚̳̚H̵̱̆̆͐̕ã̷̧͕͓̳͖͔͉͆͋͒́͝Ṕ̵̪͗̈́̔̈́̚͝p̴͉̰̣̝̼͋͐̓̾ẏ̴̦͓̘͕͍̍̐̋̃͒͂̃!̵̯̣̼͎͈̩̃͊̽̋͂̏͝͝ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈ W̷̧̝͖̩̳͙͕̮̌̈́̐̍͑̽͂Ḫ̴̬͋̆̈̄͆̔̒͘Ÿ̸̡́̓̀̉͒́̐?̶̧̖͓̤̪̰̯̉̿̈"
"How could you let us die?"
"You promised!"
"Beast."
~~AMONGST US~~
When the nightmare stopped and he had finally regained control over his body, he could do nothing more than sit on the edge of the bed, his face held between his palms.
He didn't speak – couldn't and sat there in silence.
The longer that he spent in his room, the sicker he felt. He couldn't bear it, and stood up from the bed, approaching the door and opening it so that he could leave, seeking comfort in any other place besides the room that granted him that nightmare.
However, he hesitates.
It was dark and he could barely see anything outside of his room, there could be something in the shadows, hiding and waiting for him to come out, there could be more hallucinations worse than the one he was shown. However,he swallowed his fears and leaves the room, the door shutting with a quiet click. As he moved in the small hallway, his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.
Making sure his steps were as silent as possible, he travelled down the stairs that lead to their large living room. As he neared the living room, he paused.
'What is that noise?' He asked himself.
Jaune's eyes narrowed as he concentrates on identifying the noise that came from the living room.
'Is that… scribbling?'
Slowly, he took the final steps that lead to the living room and found the source of the scribbling noise he heard.
"D-dad?"
Augustus turns around to find Jaune standing by the stairs, staring back at him.
"Jaune? What are you doing up so late?" his father asked.
"I uhm… I had a… I had a nightmare," Jaune answers, scratching the back of his head.
His father sighs and asks, "Another one?"
"S-sorry," He mutters, looking down, "I-I'll head back to my room now."
As Jaune turned back to leave, Augustus couldn't help but think back to the conversation that he and his daughter had in the forest.
"You stupid old man!" the memory of his daughter screamed at him, "Haven't you noticed? Jaune needs help!"
"Jaune, wait," Augustus called to him.
Jaune stops in his tracks and looks back to his father to see him pulling out a chair from the dining table. His father then gestured for him to take a seat, to which he complied to.
"Tell me son. What's wrong?"
"W-what?"
"Tell me what's wrong. What happened, what nightmare you had," Augustus answered, "So I can help you."
Jaune could only blink owlishly.
"It's alright, I don't need to help," Jaune says quickly, "It was only a nightmare, so its fine."
"Is it the same reoccurring ones you had a few nights ago?" His father asks.
"No?"
"So, it was different this time? What did you see?" Augustus pressed.
"Look, dad. It's fine, I'm fine," Jaune said, "It was only a onetime thing, it won't happen again. Why do you want to know anyways?"
"Well I… dammit, I'm not doing a very good job am I?" Augustus asks himself, "Sorry son, it's just… lately you've seem so… so…"
Jaune raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
"So tired. Tired and miserable."
Had he? He never noticed. Not that he had ever paid any attention to the way he acted around his friends and families.
"I just… I haven't been… I haven't been a very good father," Augustus sighs.
"What?"
"I haven't been a very good father," Augustus repeats, "I never spent any time with you or your sisters at all, except for Val. I'm always busy, away from Dom, taking on huntsman mission and always come home late."
Augustus takes a deep breath and lets go.
"What I'm trying to say is, is that I've been neglecting you for too long," He sighs, "I never cared enough to see how severe your situation is, I never cared to see if you are alright, I never asked if you need help and… and I never cared for you enough as a son."
"Dad…"
"So, I'm taking this chance to help you, so that I can be a better parent."
"…"
"…"
"You already are," Jaune mutters.
Jaune looks at his father for a bit before sighing and nodding.
"Did mom ever tell you about the nightmares I had?"
"No, your mother only said that you've been having nightmares, but she never specified."
"Well then…"
Jaune then begins to recount all of the events about Yharnam, the dream and the hunt, revealing everything to his father just as he had with his mother. He then recounts the nightmare he had about the weird eye in the ceiling and the corpses of the people he saw in the nightmare.
Augustus could only gawk at his son, eyes full of disbelief. This… this is what his son had been through? Even if it was just a nightmare, from what his son had told him, he had to go through literal hell. Dying over and over again, trying to survive in the city that was called Yharnam. And the nightmare that he had… it was… it wasn't something that a boy of his age should ever experience.
"I… Jaune… I'm so sorry," Augustus could breathe out shakily, "I'm so sorry that I never noticed… I… I really am a horrible parent."
Jaune doesn't respond and only looks to the floor, eyes drooping.
Augustus uses this moment to think. Trying to clear everything that he had just heard. This lasted for minutes, with no one uttering a single word.
From what he could understand. Ever since his son had killed himself in the dream within the dream, he hasn't ever been able to sleep. The corpses he saw in that weird nightmare he had just a few minutes before he came down here, resembled the people he saw in the dream he called Yharnam, specifically the three family members, Gascoigne, Viola and Violet. To Augustus, this can only lead to one answer.
He had trauma.
Augustus has seen something similar to this before. During one mission that involved grimm slaying in a far-away, poor frontier town. Augustus found a man stuck in a forest all by himself during his hunt. The man was a survivor of Mountain Glenn and was out gathering firewood for his furnace back home when he was attacked by grimm.
The man had spent over five days in the forest trying to find a way out. He never slept and never ate or drank anything. When questioned as to why he never slept, he said that he was scared to do so, and that every time he tried to sleep, he would see them in his dreams – grimm.
Although the scenario is different, the situation is similar, nonetheless.
His son had trauma due to the dreams he had experience overnight. In the dream, he felt every worse possible death that a child could experience. Not only that, but he also had a hero complex. The fact that he failed to save the family of three was already daunting enough, but the fact he killed the father was something that he should never have to go through.
Trauma, all because of a nightmare.
"Jaune…"
His son looked up at him, eyes half-lidded.
"How about this. Why don't we have a little spar?"
AN: Owo, a spar? A fight with daddy Augustus in the next chapter? oWo. God I think some residue of Chad's coffee is in my system.
Chad's coffee is insane, it's literally the healing blood in bloodborne, minus the beast transformation and rabid behaviour... actually that last part was a lie. My friends and I literally started fighting over the cup with Chad watching in the background like some sort of great one. You guys remember Rach from the AN at the end of the interlude? The one who typed the hehe rawr quote? Yeah no, she started hissing and went straight to beast mode after someone tried to steal the cup from her hands, not a joke, that is what happened.
At this point, I had so much of it I basically started building an immunity to it. I can now resist the calling of it whenever he tries to tempt me into drinking some, but if I'm desperate enough, I'll take it. My resistance to the addiction and hyperactive insanity now delays it for at least 20 or so minutes. Anyways, me and Chad eventually succumbed to its effects and started humming old songs and dancing like insane people during cricket. Fun times. By the way, the coffee is made up of farm fresh beans and ten tea spoons of sugar.
This must be the work of 'Luck Trade'. I recently got Eula (Guranteed) and I wanted to try and get her weapon. I got one final ten roll and I used it. Somehow, I got Skyward Spine and Aquila Favonia AND Rosaria at the same time. Gave AF to Jean and SS to Rosaria, I think I might also build her. And now 'Luck Trade' is bringing bad luck to me again.
God I think I made this too long. Anyways, I'll try to post a new chapter next week, 28th of May. I hope I get to post a new chapter for Fragmented Star too, I miss writing the chapters and I have so much lore planned out. Anyways, I'll see yall in the next chapter.