Okay, so I lied, I actually continued this one before Wild Faerie Dance, only because I'm soooo hyper and couldn't focus. Wanna know why I'm hyper? ROTG comes out on DVD tomorrow. I wanna get it lol, just to see the ending. Don't tell me anything! So get reading, this is really good I think!

Pitch was tired, tired and bored. Try as he might, he couldn't sleep, not since...since...

He couldn't remember. It was probably the ball, though, probably around that time.

Why did everything backfire so badly? When he'd gone up against the Guardians, he really thought he'd have a better chance than that. He knew it was a result of years of pent-up frustration, and somehow, that didn't make things any better. It made him even angrier, like he wasn't worth their time or thoughts, being ignored. The worst thing was, though, what he was doing now.

Feeling regret.

In all honesty, it was stupid. He wasn't supposed to care, wasn't supposed to be normal and feely like everyone else. He just didn't like it. But there was that part, in the back of his mind, that kept telling him things.

What if they never forgive you? Look at it this way. You destroyed most of their possessions and almost shot them out of existence, not to mention offended most of them personally. North, North might. Bunnymund wouldn't, evidently, you ruined Easter completely and gave Hope a deck in the face. Tooth might - scratch that, you messed with the teeth. Not good. Sandy? Sandman wants to kill you, after all, you killed him. And don't even get started on Jack, he'd probably freeze you first and ask questions later.

No, no, the Guardians were out of the question. He couldn't do anything about the overwhelming feeling of guilt, pitiful as it was, and of course, no one on the Council of Darkness would care. A) the name sort of spoke for itself, no one really had any compassion, unless Melanctha counted, and B) he'd been expelled from that anyway, after "ruining the balance of things."

So that left Pitch, and the ten-or-so Fearlings that hadn't turned against him (the rest were off doing who-knows-what) alone, in a hole in the ground, pretty much drowning in both despair and depression.

Like the good old days,

he though gloomily, we're back to square one.

The ball hadn't been too bad - how long ago was that, a month at most? Besides the fact that Autumn used him as her personal slave, it wasn't horrible. (To be honest, he actually didn't mind following her around as much as he would have like to. She was enjoyable.) And he'd actually played the violin for the faeries again*, like he'd used to before everything had gotten so...

Depressing.

To interrupt all his thoughts, a sort of giggle echoed through the lair. He looked up sharply from the floor, jolting his chair backwards. Mara (one of the favorite of the Fearlings) snorted, pawing at the ground. She moved backwards, toward the corner of the room. Mara? Afraid?

Pitch stood and peered around him. The laugh sounded again, creepy in all of its aspects, even down to that he couldn't see who was laughing. Why hadn't he thought of lights before? The darkness suddenly didn't seem so comforting.

"Afraid?" a voice called, laughing again. It seemed to come from behind him. Pitch jumped and turned around.

"Thought so," the voice said, giggling and moving from different parts of the room. He couldn't tell where it was coming from. It was then that he noticed a thin layer of mist had crept all around him.

"Who's there?" he called, not scared, exactly, but very wary.

"An old friend, Black. Don't play coy with me," the voice called, distinctly feminine, he noted, but couldn't put his finger on who it was.

"I don't know who you are. I'm not playing," he spat, annoyedly. The mist was getting thicker with each passing minute he spent standing there. Trying to find the chair, he stumbled - he could hear Mara whinny from somewhere.

"Snarky, as always," it said. "I thought you'd recognize me. After all, we were such good friends."

There was sarcasm in there, he could tell. He didn't like whoever it was, that was for sure, but he was too aggravated to think. Shadows that were not of his own creation circled him. They had a mist-like form, not like real shadows, but melted into everything and left smoky trails behind them. The figure was that of a girl - long hair.

"Highly doubtable," he said, looking around him to find the source.

"I think the word you're looking for is dubious. But, I wouldn't expect you to have a great vocabulary - you never were suited to much. In fact, you couldn't even pull off the job they gave you in the Golden Ages!"

That struck a nerve. He didn't want it to, but it did - and it seemed that the person had planned it to.

"Fortunately for you, that worked to your advantage. You helped plunge the world into chaos, delicious, mortifying chaos. Screaming and terror and panic, everywhere...but there's rules, to follow, and, once again, you've broken them."

"Who are you?!" he yelled, hardly covering the emotions that the voice had caught on to. All he received in response was more dry, sarcastic laughter.

Before he could manage another ventured question, a face emerged quickly in front of him. It had raven hair that covered one side of it and bright eyes - this was all he could make out before it disappeared. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he whirled around to find nothing but a glowing, blackish-purple light.

"Missed me," the voice sang, moving back around behind him. He turned around again, to find nothing, and it responded with "You can't catch a shadow, Pitch."

"I am a shadow," he responded, crossing his arms, but still glancing frantically at everything. There was nothing to see.

"Huh...not a very good one," the voice said, lowered to a whisper - it was coming from right next to him. He didn't dare move. "Besides, you've lost all the battles you've engaged in. You're not fit to be a shadow anyway."

Now, now he was really wary. That is, until the face appeared again, out of the mist, and he noted the girl had one green eye and one blue eye.

That made him mad.

"Eris, what in bloody-"

She made a noise of extreme frustration and the mist dissipated, leaving Eris standing before him. Her expression conveyed anger, impatience, and annoyance all rolled in one.

"Do you HAVE to RUIN my ENTRANCES?!" she yelled, crossing her arms, "That was a pretty good one, too!...Any other comments you'd like to make, besides making my day miserable?"

He glared right back. "Excuse me, I think you're the one invading my home. And insulting me."

"Home? Please, kiddo, this is a hole," Eris said, rolling her eyes. "And yes, I am, you're welcome."

Pitch looked at her incredulously. "And you don't care."

"No, no I don't. When I've got something to say I'm going to say it, regardless of personal boundaries," Eris retorted, looking very, very cross.

He didn't bother trying to reason with her. She was A) extremely stubborn, and B) scary. Well, not exactly scary, but creepy and dangerous, even to him. She didn't need belief from anyone - she wrecked havoc regardless of who thought she was real and who didn't.

"Any particular reason I've been honored with this...visit, today?" he asked drily. Two could play the sarcasm game.

"Aww, aren't you the cutest little child," Eris spat, the 'cutest' and 'little' sounding more like death threats than what they actually meant. "Of course there's a reason. Maybe I'd be a little nicer about it if you hadn't-"

"Hadn't what, ruined your chances of 'scaring' me? Here's something to think about - I'm fear itself, Eris."

"We're not on a first-name basis. You address me as Doom," she said, dismissively. She knew it would make him mad - she also knew that he was probably her senior, and she should have owed him a little respect.

Then again, Eris never did make room for manners. Especially, especially when she didn't like someone.

Eris didn't like most people.

"Doom, then, get it over with and get out," he snipped.

"I'd suggest using a more...positive tone than that, Pitch. There's a certain word your name rhymes with and I'd really, really hate to be reduced to using it."

"What do you want?" Pitch sighed, giving up. When she picked a fight, she won - it actually didn't bother him, everyone except Melanctha lost to her. At least he could take more than one sentence - she'd silenced Bunnymund with nine words, that he remembered.

"Well, I assume you know that I do a little handling in the matter of knowing stuff, whether it's future or past - either you do, or you're not half as bright as I give you credit for."

He scoffed. She didn't give him any credit.

"Recently, ah, recently, there's been some sketchiness in the matters surrounding you," Eris said, pointing a finger very abruptly at him, before pacing in a circle as was her way with these things.

"And this pertains to your little intrusion, how?"

"It pertains because I felt the inclination to warn you. Don't do anything stupid."

At his look of slight confusion, Eris rolled her eyes. "I love calamity. Destruction. Chaos. Discord. Conundrum. Panic. All that sort of thing. And do you know what happens when something gets in the way...of that?"

By now she'd reverted to misty-shadow form again, probably for emphasis. He'd done the same - not that it affected him any less, that she was doing it now.

"Enlighten me," Pitch said impatiently. He wanted her out - Eris was too much trouble to be taken lightly.

"I snap something in their life like a tooth. Pick."

She broke down the syllables, holding her fist as though it could actually do some damage. He knew her powers were strong, but he had to fight the urge to laugh at her with some difficulty. Pitch recalled when Melanctha had her held back from another Council member - she'd only had to use one hand. No, the Doomfae didn't have anything to threaten him with physically, unless she'd brought her scorpions. It was of a mental sort that she had an advantage.

"I see."

"Don't make this seem petty, Black," she said, a shadow twisting around his ankle, bringing him to the floor. He looked up, aggravated. Eris smiled down, a sinister, warning smile, having reverted to her normal - if normal could be used in relation to her - self.

"If you do anything out of line, per se..."

Somewhere a Fearling neighed, and it wasn't Mara. Pitch swallowed - Eris had some leverage over them, too?

"I'll be very, very irritated."

With a final laugh and "ta-ta," Eris vanished, as did the mist that had come with her.

The nervousness which was left in her wake, however, did not.

Eris is amazing. I love her. I do have to say, though, that although Eris is really dark and creepy and it's great to write about her, I like Autumn a little smidgeon better. That and Autumn's more volatile, even if Eris is...scarier.

Review, please...I do good? Great? Terribly? Let me know so I can make it better :) 'til then, working on Wild Faerie Dance chapter 3...