NightNoises
DISCLAIMER: I do not own YuGiOh, and never will. So there.
Warning: Somewhat different take on a well-known character, and the death of another character.
Contest entry for Zoo-chan's uhhh... contest. ^.^;;
Darkness. His world was filled with Darkness. Everything was soaked in it; gorged with it; filled to the brim with black, stifling, suffocating Darkness. The Darkness that over took all of him, filled his mind with the shadows and consumed his light.
He hated the Darkness.
Hated the way it hid everything, changed it and twisted it until it was something of pure fear. Terror and fright, mixing with the Darkness and chasing him through the dark corners of his mind.
So many dark corners.
He had so many secrets, so many fears and hates and loathes. The Darkness used them, warped his secret fears into new monsters, things that could be sensed just out of ear shot, that roamed just out of eye sight.
But not all the things that moved in the Darkness-that-held-his-mind were made from his mind.
"Tomb Robber...? Where are you hiding?"
A soft voice. That was his most feared fear. His most terrifying terror. A voice that seemed soft, almost longing. It wanted to caress him, hold him, be with him forever.
He was shaking with fear.
Buried in the Darkness. It was ironic, he who had wanted the Darkness, claimed to _be_ the Darkness, was hiding from one darker than him. One who could fill the Darkness with secret fears and forbidden whispers. It revived things he thought long dead. He pressed himself tighter against... What was it? He wasn't sure any more. This place he was trapped in... Was it his soul room? It had been, he thought he could remember it being his, but now? Now it was filled to the brim with Darkness, until all he knew in this room of his supposed-soul was fear. And the Darkness that had hidden everything he knew as himself away.
"Deepdeep Darkness..." The voice purred. It seemed to move in the pitch black blanket of Darkness and Shadow. "Pretty snow-hair Tomb Robber, how does it feel to be buried in deepdeep Darkness? Smothering in the wonderful Shadows and suffering and PaIn that is part of the Darkness? Poor Tomb Robber... Didn't you want to be part of the Darkness? Didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?!"
Footsteps.
They seemed to echo and fold in on themselves, becoming more and more and more, until the room was filled with the sound of footsteps and it must be an army walking to create so much noise. But it was all drowned out. His heartbeat was so loud, it had to be louder then the footsteps could ever be. All the other one had to do was listen and he would be found.
Part of him screamed at him to run, run like a panicked animal, just try to get as far away as possible from the monster that pursued him. But for all his body screamed at him, he could not move. Could only try and stifle his terrified whimpers and breathing. Only hope that the monster could not find him, if he did not move.
"Snow-haired Tomb Robber doesn't want to play? Why doesn't snow-haired Tomb Robber want to play? Not like this game? Not like being surrounded by the Darkness and the Shadows and the pAIn? Why so scared snow-haired Tomb Robber? We won't hurt you... Tomb Robber can be a part of the Darkness, give himself to the Darkness and the Shadows and the PAin. All it takes is a little cut..."
All his senses were straining, trying to see/hear the other before it saw/heard him. The surface underneath his fingertips seemed to burn it's pattern of bumps and grooves into his skin, while the very air itself vibrated around him, a movement would disturb it, give him away. Eyes straining in the Darkness that surrounded him to see.... There! A light! Only a sliver, a tiny piece of hope shining in the gloom of this infernal prison. He wanted the light so bad, it was like a knife had been plunged into him. He wondered for a moment if he was bleeding, the wanting hurt so much. But still his body wouldn't let him move.
Sweat slid down his neck, trickled down his spine. Like blood flowing. Everything reminded him of blood.
The Darkness wasn't black, it was red. A red so deep, it seemed black. Dull, dried, old red. The room of his soul filled with a Darkness of blood.
Blood Red.
"Mmmm... A little cut Tomb Robber. Then you're a part of the Darkness. Wrapped within it, part of it always. Isn't it wonderful Tomb Robber? Isn't it? ISN'T IT?! The blade slides across your softsoft, pale skin, glides in a dance of it's own. Such sweet fluid trickles out of the cuts. Sweetsweet blood! Tangy and sweet and coppery and foul and liquid like life.
"Life fluid! Liquid LIFE!!
"It fills you, snow-haired Tomb Robber. Fills you to the brim, races around your body. You who want to be the Darkness. You can not be the Darkness. Not yet. Fill the Darkness with your life, and the Darkness will fill you with itself. And all will be suffering and screaming and crying and laughing and paIN. The Darkness wants you, Tomb Robber. Come play with the Darkness."
The voice was drawing closer, he could feel it approaching, sense it's every movement. He knew it could sense him as well. The chase seemed so futile. He could run, but the creature would always know where he was, always be a few steps behind him. It seemed so pointless, so much easier to give up except for one thing...
He didn't want to die.
A dash, across the Blood Red Darkness that enclosed the space around him, past phantom noises and images half-seen from the corner of his eye. Until the light, the tiny piece of Hope floated before him, gleamed off his hair, pale as snow.
A giggle in the shadows around him.
"Silly silly silly Tomb Robber! Don't you know that all light, all hope, all safety, is nothing but an illusion? All it does is make you believe you are safe, when really..."
A soft movement behind him. Bakura made to turn, to face his assailant, but crumpled instead. Blood flowed from his neck, slid down the pale column of his throat, stained his hair, white as snow, cold as winter, lifeless as the frost. It fluttered in delicate patterns across the marble skin, tracing the soft curves of dying flesh, still pumping out the vivid liquid of the patterns. The vacant eyes stared upwards at the face of his attacker, forever searching for his fear in the Darkness.
The Darkness that was stained with blood. The Darkness that drank in the blood to itself.
The soft voice laughed again. High-pitched, tinkling laughter that had no place in the Darkness and the suffering and the Shadows and the PaIN.
A slender, pale finger reached down. Plunged into the liquid life spilling from the empty husk before him.
"How does it feel silly-Tomb Robber, to be a part of the Darkness?"
The finger lifted and brushed along eagerly parted lips. He looked down on the still form and smiled, breathing in the aroma of the death and Darkness and PAIn. Trailed the bloodied knife along the dead flesh, carving useless patterns into it's pale surface and mingled the congealing first blood with the new.
Ryou smiled to himself, gazing with huge, strangely empty eyes at the lifeless form of his Yami. Licking the blood from the blade of the knife, as the glimmer of light that gave such hope, flickered and died, leaving the world filled with Darkness.
"How does it feel to be consumed?"